Miscarriage. Stillbirth. Gutwrenching words aren't they. Every parent-to-be's worst nightmare.
But tragically it happens. It Happens.
After reading a post from a fellow mum who had recently suffered a miscarriage, it made me realise that it's still quite a 'taboo' subject. It still makes people uncomfortable and not everyone likes to disclose the fact that they've been through it.
In order to raise some awareness around the subject and to encourage people to fight the 'hush hush, deal with it on your own stigma' I have been chatting with and meeting up with numerous parents who have experienced the devastating truth that is miscarriage and stillbirth. They have been brave enough to share their stories.
But tragically it happens. It Happens.
After reading a post from a fellow mum who had recently suffered a miscarriage, it made me realise that it's still quite a 'taboo' subject. It still makes people uncomfortable and not everyone likes to disclose the fact that they've been through it.
In order to raise some awareness around the subject and to encourage people to fight the 'hush hush, deal with it on your own stigma' I have been chatting with and meeting up with numerous parents who have experienced the devastating truth that is miscarriage and stillbirth. They have been brave enough to share their stories.
We love you Daniel and we're always holding your hand
The next couple of weeks are a blur but one day will stay in my head
forever
My now husband and I decided to start trying for our own little family in 2013.
At the beginning I guess I was quite naïve in thinking that it would happen straight away. I'd take a pregnancy test the day after and it would be positive then I'd have my baby.
That didn't happen, after nearly a year of trying I was beginning to think it wouldn't happen that something was wrong with me but in March 2014 I finally had that positive pregnancy test. I was so happy I wanted to shout it from the rooftop!!!!
I went to work after finding out at the weekend and was getting on with my day but something in my head was telling me something wasn't right. I didn't feel excited anymore I felt scared and couldn't vision my pregnancy continuing. I couldn't see my bump growing or imagine what our baby would look like. I tried to push these thoughts to the back of my mind telling myself I was being paranoid so I busied myself with work to take my mind of it.
The next couple of weeks are a bit of a blur but one day will stay in my head forever.
I began to feel slight cramps whilst I was working and knew deep down this was it so I told my manger and asked if I could just go get checked out (I was 9 weeks pregnant). I drove myself to the hospital ringing my husband on the way and he met me there. I had a blood test and a wee sample taken in the hospital then got called through. The nurse told me that the pregnancy test they did from my wee sample was a very faint positive and my blood test revealed that the hormone levels were also very low, not what it should be at 9 weeks pregnant. I then had an internal scan to which the doctor revealed there was no heartbeat and I would eventually miscarry.
I felt my heart shatter.
As I looked at my husband I felt so guilty that I couldn't grow this little life inside me, that there was something wrong with me.
I went home and sure enough the following day I miscarried our baby. I didn't stop crying the whole day I shut everyone out, didn't want to see or speak to anyone especially my husband. All I felt was guilt whenever I looked at him.
Things obviously got better and we started trying again but sex became unenjoyable, purely doing it to get pregnant and it pushed me further away from my husband but in June 2014 I had another positive pregnancy test.
But 5 weeks after that test came back I miscarried again.
I felt useless and the lowest I've ever felt. Everyone around me was getting pregnant and having their babies so why couldn't I, what was wrong with me? I lost all hope and came to terms with the fact that it wasn't going to happen but when I finally relaxed and let myself be happy and positive I caught pregnant with our beautiful, now nearly 2 year old, daughter in October 2014.
The next 9 months weren't easy, I was up and down the hospital with reduced movements. Maybe most of it was in my head, maybe I was over protective after having lost 2 before but I'm so glad I did. I was induced on my due date, 1st July 2015, and had Ava 6 days later a good 8Ib9oz of pure perfection!!!
Any advice I can give is if you have any bad thoughts, feelings or reduced movements go get checked it doesn't matter if you are there every day, that's what the hospital and midwives are there for to help you and your baby.
At the beginning I guess I was quite naïve in thinking that it would happen straight away. I'd take a pregnancy test the day after and it would be positive then I'd have my baby.
That didn't happen, after nearly a year of trying I was beginning to think it wouldn't happen that something was wrong with me but in March 2014 I finally had that positive pregnancy test. I was so happy I wanted to shout it from the rooftop!!!!
I went to work after finding out at the weekend and was getting on with my day but something in my head was telling me something wasn't right. I didn't feel excited anymore I felt scared and couldn't vision my pregnancy continuing. I couldn't see my bump growing or imagine what our baby would look like. I tried to push these thoughts to the back of my mind telling myself I was being paranoid so I busied myself with work to take my mind of it.
The next couple of weeks are a bit of a blur but one day will stay in my head forever.
I began to feel slight cramps whilst I was working and knew deep down this was it so I told my manger and asked if I could just go get checked out (I was 9 weeks pregnant). I drove myself to the hospital ringing my husband on the way and he met me there. I had a blood test and a wee sample taken in the hospital then got called through. The nurse told me that the pregnancy test they did from my wee sample was a very faint positive and my blood test revealed that the hormone levels were also very low, not what it should be at 9 weeks pregnant. I then had an internal scan to which the doctor revealed there was no heartbeat and I would eventually miscarry.
I felt my heart shatter.
As I looked at my husband I felt so guilty that I couldn't grow this little life inside me, that there was something wrong with me.
I went home and sure enough the following day I miscarried our baby. I didn't stop crying the whole day I shut everyone out, didn't want to see or speak to anyone especially my husband. All I felt was guilt whenever I looked at him.
Things obviously got better and we started trying again but sex became unenjoyable, purely doing it to get pregnant and it pushed me further away from my husband but in June 2014 I had another positive pregnancy test.
But 5 weeks after that test came back I miscarried again.
I felt useless and the lowest I've ever felt. Everyone around me was getting pregnant and having their babies so why couldn't I, what was wrong with me? I lost all hope and came to terms with the fact that it wasn't going to happen but when I finally relaxed and let myself be happy and positive I caught pregnant with our beautiful, now nearly 2 year old, daughter in October 2014.
The next 9 months weren't easy, I was up and down the hospital with reduced movements. Maybe most of it was in my head, maybe I was over protective after having lost 2 before but I'm so glad I did. I was induced on my due date, 1st July 2015, and had Ava 6 days later a good 8Ib9oz of pure perfection!!!
Any advice I can give is if you have any bad thoughts, feelings or reduced movements go get checked it doesn't matter if you are there every day, that's what the hospital and midwives are there for to help you and your baby.
I felt like a failure
We started TTC our 2nd in the June. We were over the moon when I got my first positive pregnancy test on the 15th November. We worked out that I would be due on the 26th June. One of my best friend's son's birthday.
Nearly 2 weeks after my BFP on the 25th November I visited the Doctor as I'd been having some one sided pain. She sent me to the hospital. They scanned me which showed no sign of pregnancy. They also did bloods which came back pregnant but very low at only 15. They said I was either very early, going to miscarry or it was an ectopic. I had known deep down since my first BFP that something wasn't right. My symptoms had been very minimal and kind of gradually disappearing.
I went into work on the Tuesday very upset but determined to get through the day.
At around 10am I started bleeding, the tears began. I knew it was the end.
On the Wednesday I went for repeat bloods which were now negative for pregnancy confirming I had miscarried at 5+3 on the 26th November. I was completely and utterly crushed. I went home and cried in bed. It was heartbreaking telling our son that Mummy no longer had a baby in her tummy. Thankfully he was still really young so didn't understand properly.
We decided to start TTC again straight away. I got my second BFP on the 25th January. Due 4th October. I tested again on the 27th January and the line had begun to fade.
The following morning I started bleeding.
I had miscarried again. I begged my Doctor to send me for tests but 1 miscarriage is very common and 2 is also quite common so they won't until you've had 3. My Doctor was confident we wouldn't suffer another miscarriage as a 3rd was rare.
I got my 3rd BFP on the 24th February, just days before my birthday. I was 4 weeks pregnant and due on the 3rd November.
I started bleeding 2 weeks later.
I had confirmation from the hospital that I had miscarried again on the 9th March. I honestly felt like my whole world was collapsing around me. How had this happened to us not once, not twice but THREE times!?
We weren't bad people, we were good parents. We didn't deserve this.
I felt like a failure.
Why wasn't my body doing the one thing it was meant to do? It had done it before so why not now? I went back to my Doctor and he was heartbroken too. He's honestly one of the best Doctors I've ever come across. He helped us in more ways than I ever thought a Doctor would. He sent us straight for testing after my 3rd miscarriage. In March we had a couple of appointments. I had bloods taken for Karyotyping (checks for chromosome abnormalities), Blood Clotting Disorder, Thyroid etc and my husband had bloods done for Karyotyping. Results were supposed to take around 6 weeks.
At the beginning of April I had my progesterone levels checked which came back normal. I also had to have some bloods redone at the hospital due to "technical error".
I remember one day being sat in the hospital waiting to see gynaecology when a nurse came out to ask if I was there for a scan. I said no with a lump in my throat. 10 minutes later she came out and asked me again.
How I managed to keep the tears in I don't know. My husband was furious. It's so bad how RLI is set out, gynaecology should not be in the same waiting room as the waiting room that pregnant women sit in and wait for scans. It's heart wrenching watching all those excited couples coming out of the room whilst your heart is aching for yet another baby you've lost.
On the 8th May I got my 4th BFP. I was due on the 14th January. I rushed to the Doctors that day and he put me straight on 75mg Aspirin and 5mg high dose folic acid. I was seen at the hospital on the 13th May and I was diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Syndrome (APS) and Factor V Leiden. My first pregnancy was low risk, I had no complications during pregnancy. APS is something that can just develop whereas Factor V is a genetic problem.
I'm not sure why I developed APS after my first pregnancy or why I had the problems I had but I guess we will never know. They prescribed Clexane injections after my APS and Factor V diagnosis. I had to inject myself every single day of pregnancy, I was black and blue but I would do anything if it meant being able to hold our baby at the end of pregnancy. I suffered with really bad morning sickness and began throwing up blood due to the Aspirin. I couldn't and wouldn't stop taking the Aspirin so was given another pill (Omeprazole) to take each day to help protect my stomach from the Aspirin. I was classed as high risk during the pregnancy as APS could cause you to lose your baby at any stage in pregnancy, I was also at risk of early severe pre-eclampsia and severe fetal growth restriction. As you can imagine I was a nervous wreck. The hospital were brilliant. They allowed me to have a few early scans to reassure us. We didn't announce to our family until after we saw a heartbeat. We couldn't see their heartache again either. At 16 weeks and 4 days we found out we were having a little boy. We were absolutely over the moon. Due to the Clexane injections I had to have growth scans at 28, 32 and 36 weeks as they can sometimes cause baby to be small. The first 2 went perfectly. He was gaining weight well and everyone was happy. At my 36 week scan he hadn't gained very much weight and the registrar was unhappy so sent me for a Doppler scan to check the blood supply from the cord as sometimes with APS the placenta can start to deteriorate. Thankfully the cord was fine. A week later we went for a repeat Doppler scan and thankfully all was still fine but was too early for a repeat growth scan.
4 days later his movements changed, I know my baby and I knew something wasn't right. I went up to the hospital for monitoring. I had been up the odd time earlier in pregnancy and everything had been fine. He did the usual thing, kicking like mad as soon as they strapped me up to the monitor. This time round he didn't. He was moving but not very much. They decided that due to the reduced movement, poor weight gain and the APS that it was safer for me to be induced. The hospital was busy so I wasn't induced fully straight away but had regular monitoring. When there was a room spare in the delivery room I went down and had my waters broken and our beautiful baby boy was born under an hour later weighing a healthy 6lb 10oz.
It was the most amazing feeling, finally being able to hold our baby boy in our arms. My anxiety didn't stop there. I checked on him a million times a day. I couldn't believe he was mine.
Throughout everything I found out who my real friends were and who weren't. People I thought I could lean on turned out be not so supportive. I was told "you didn't miscarry, you started your period" all because my miscarriages were before 6 weeks. I don't know if it's just me but that second that I got my positive test I had my future planned out in seconds, dreaming of feeling my baby kick, giving birth then watching them grow up with their big brother but then it was ripped away from us, 3 bloody times!
I was not myself during those few months, I was miserable and I cried a lot. My son and husband were the only thing that kept me going. I don't know what I would have done without them. I couldn't be around pregnant women, it hurt, it didn't mean I wasn't happy for them, I was unhappy for myself, I should have been enjoying being pregnant beside them but instead I was feeling empty inside and struggling to get up in the morning. I was a bitter miserable woman.
My pregnancy was scary, I didn't get to enjoy it how I should have or how I wanted because I was terrified throughout. Even now years later I'm terrified of losing my boys. As time goes on I've learnt to live with it, or at least I think I have, that is until someone asks me and I burst in to tears. I feel guilty for crying. If I hadn't experienced those miscarriages I wouldn't have my amazingly funny, caring and beautiful little boy. I'm so lucky to have my boys. So, so lucky.
Life does go on but I won't ever forget or heal fully.
I'm a different person to the one I was. I always thought I wanted a child of each gender but after experiencing what we did it made me realise that gender was not at all important. I couldn't have cared less whether our baby was a girl or a boy, all I cared about was that I got to bring a healthy baby home. No longer naive and living in a bubble.
You grow up being told about contraception. One sneeze and your pregnant. No-one tells you just how difficult the journey can actually be.
Nearly 2 weeks after my BFP on the 25th November I visited the Doctor as I'd been having some one sided pain. She sent me to the hospital. They scanned me which showed no sign of pregnancy. They also did bloods which came back pregnant but very low at only 15. They said I was either very early, going to miscarry or it was an ectopic. I had known deep down since my first BFP that something wasn't right. My symptoms had been very minimal and kind of gradually disappearing.
I went into work on the Tuesday very upset but determined to get through the day.
At around 10am I started bleeding, the tears began. I knew it was the end.
On the Wednesday I went for repeat bloods which were now negative for pregnancy confirming I had miscarried at 5+3 on the 26th November. I was completely and utterly crushed. I went home and cried in bed. It was heartbreaking telling our son that Mummy no longer had a baby in her tummy. Thankfully he was still really young so didn't understand properly.
We decided to start TTC again straight away. I got my second BFP on the 25th January. Due 4th October. I tested again on the 27th January and the line had begun to fade.
The following morning I started bleeding.
I had miscarried again. I begged my Doctor to send me for tests but 1 miscarriage is very common and 2 is also quite common so they won't until you've had 3. My Doctor was confident we wouldn't suffer another miscarriage as a 3rd was rare.
I got my 3rd BFP on the 24th February, just days before my birthday. I was 4 weeks pregnant and due on the 3rd November.
I started bleeding 2 weeks later.
I had confirmation from the hospital that I had miscarried again on the 9th March. I honestly felt like my whole world was collapsing around me. How had this happened to us not once, not twice but THREE times!?
We weren't bad people, we were good parents. We didn't deserve this.
I felt like a failure.
Why wasn't my body doing the one thing it was meant to do? It had done it before so why not now? I went back to my Doctor and he was heartbroken too. He's honestly one of the best Doctors I've ever come across. He helped us in more ways than I ever thought a Doctor would. He sent us straight for testing after my 3rd miscarriage. In March we had a couple of appointments. I had bloods taken for Karyotyping (checks for chromosome abnormalities), Blood Clotting Disorder, Thyroid etc and my husband had bloods done for Karyotyping. Results were supposed to take around 6 weeks.
At the beginning of April I had my progesterone levels checked which came back normal. I also had to have some bloods redone at the hospital due to "technical error".
I remember one day being sat in the hospital waiting to see gynaecology when a nurse came out to ask if I was there for a scan. I said no with a lump in my throat. 10 minutes later she came out and asked me again.
How I managed to keep the tears in I don't know. My husband was furious. It's so bad how RLI is set out, gynaecology should not be in the same waiting room as the waiting room that pregnant women sit in and wait for scans. It's heart wrenching watching all those excited couples coming out of the room whilst your heart is aching for yet another baby you've lost.
On the 8th May I got my 4th BFP. I was due on the 14th January. I rushed to the Doctors that day and he put me straight on 75mg Aspirin and 5mg high dose folic acid. I was seen at the hospital on the 13th May and I was diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Syndrome (APS) and Factor V Leiden. My first pregnancy was low risk, I had no complications during pregnancy. APS is something that can just develop whereas Factor V is a genetic problem.
I'm not sure why I developed APS after my first pregnancy or why I had the problems I had but I guess we will never know. They prescribed Clexane injections after my APS and Factor V diagnosis. I had to inject myself every single day of pregnancy, I was black and blue but I would do anything if it meant being able to hold our baby at the end of pregnancy. I suffered with really bad morning sickness and began throwing up blood due to the Aspirin. I couldn't and wouldn't stop taking the Aspirin so was given another pill (Omeprazole) to take each day to help protect my stomach from the Aspirin. I was classed as high risk during the pregnancy as APS could cause you to lose your baby at any stage in pregnancy, I was also at risk of early severe pre-eclampsia and severe fetal growth restriction. As you can imagine I was a nervous wreck. The hospital were brilliant. They allowed me to have a few early scans to reassure us. We didn't announce to our family until after we saw a heartbeat. We couldn't see their heartache again either. At 16 weeks and 4 days we found out we were having a little boy. We were absolutely over the moon. Due to the Clexane injections I had to have growth scans at 28, 32 and 36 weeks as they can sometimes cause baby to be small. The first 2 went perfectly. He was gaining weight well and everyone was happy. At my 36 week scan he hadn't gained very much weight and the registrar was unhappy so sent me for a Doppler scan to check the blood supply from the cord as sometimes with APS the placenta can start to deteriorate. Thankfully the cord was fine. A week later we went for a repeat Doppler scan and thankfully all was still fine but was too early for a repeat growth scan.
4 days later his movements changed, I know my baby and I knew something wasn't right. I went up to the hospital for monitoring. I had been up the odd time earlier in pregnancy and everything had been fine. He did the usual thing, kicking like mad as soon as they strapped me up to the monitor. This time round he didn't. He was moving but not very much. They decided that due to the reduced movement, poor weight gain and the APS that it was safer for me to be induced. The hospital was busy so I wasn't induced fully straight away but had regular monitoring. When there was a room spare in the delivery room I went down and had my waters broken and our beautiful baby boy was born under an hour later weighing a healthy 6lb 10oz.
It was the most amazing feeling, finally being able to hold our baby boy in our arms. My anxiety didn't stop there. I checked on him a million times a day. I couldn't believe he was mine.
Throughout everything I found out who my real friends were and who weren't. People I thought I could lean on turned out be not so supportive. I was told "you didn't miscarry, you started your period" all because my miscarriages were before 6 weeks. I don't know if it's just me but that second that I got my positive test I had my future planned out in seconds, dreaming of feeling my baby kick, giving birth then watching them grow up with their big brother but then it was ripped away from us, 3 bloody times!
I was not myself during those few months, I was miserable and I cried a lot. My son and husband were the only thing that kept me going. I don't know what I would have done without them. I couldn't be around pregnant women, it hurt, it didn't mean I wasn't happy for them, I was unhappy for myself, I should have been enjoying being pregnant beside them but instead I was feeling empty inside and struggling to get up in the morning. I was a bitter miserable woman.
My pregnancy was scary, I didn't get to enjoy it how I should have or how I wanted because I was terrified throughout. Even now years later I'm terrified of losing my boys. As time goes on I've learnt to live with it, or at least I think I have, that is until someone asks me and I burst in to tears. I feel guilty for crying. If I hadn't experienced those miscarriages I wouldn't have my amazingly funny, caring and beautiful little boy. I'm so lucky to have my boys. So, so lucky.
Life does go on but I won't ever forget or heal fully.
I'm a different person to the one I was. I always thought I wanted a child of each gender but after experiencing what we did it made me realise that gender was not at all important. I couldn't have cared less whether our baby was a girl or a boy, all I cared about was that I got to bring a healthy baby home. No longer naive and living in a bubble.
You grow up being told about contraception. One sneeze and your pregnant. No-one tells you just how difficult the journey can actually be.
I had to give birth while I was feeling like dying
I found out I was pregnant 4 weeks after my youngest son's 1st birthday. I got a BFP on 25th May 2015. I could not believe it as we had only just decided to try for number 4 and it seemed too good to be true (although I had always gotten pregnant pretty quickly!). I peed on about 3million sticks that week and absolutely was definitely pregnant!
I had an early scan, due to being super impatient at about 9 weeks and saw that everything was as it should be. Baby's heart was beating, everything measured perfectly and it was happy days. I announced my pregnancy that day as by number 4 I had no fears that anything could go wrong after seeing that perfect scan!
I had my 12 week scan and then another private scan at 16 weeks where we found out we were expecting our 4th boy. We were over the moon and starting deciding on names. After my 20 week scan and seeing that everything was still perfect I started to wash all of the boy's old baby clothes and muslins, bought tiny nappies etc. Started getting prepared for our newest family member.
I had a scan at 29 + 5 after seeing a Groupon deal for 4d scans and because we had decided that this baby would complete our family and so we wanted to make the most of every second. We went along and saw Harlan (whose name we had decided on by this point) and he was perfect. Moving around, covering his face, sticking his tongue out. It was truly beautiful. We were so amazed that we bought all of the images on a disc as we couldn't choose any we didn't want to buy!
A week and a half later, on a Wednesday evening (at 31 + 3) I started having fairly strong contractions. I had never had braxton hicks in any of my previous pregnancies so I thought it was a little unusual but carried on with my evening, eventually going to bed at 10pm. I laid in bed for an hour and did not feel Harlan move. I tried poking him, turning over, jiggling.... all the things that usually would have him dancing around in there. At this point I started to worry a little. I called the hospital a little after 11pm and the midwife asked me to come in so that they could monitor him and put my mind at rest.
I woke my husband up and told him I would be back soon but that I was just popping to the hospital to be checked over. I didn't pack a bag, I didn't get dressed, I just jumped in the car in my joggers and a sweatshirt and drove to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital the midwife was lovely. She said they would just pop the doppler on and check that he was doing ok.
When she put the doppler on there was no noise. No galloping, no nothing. She told me not to worry, he was probably just being awkward. After what seemed like an eternity of trying she went to get the consultant. The consultant couldn't pick up any sounds either. My mind was racing but I thought it was just some terrible coincidence that nobody could get the Doppler to work.
Shortly after this the doctor came back in with a portable ultrasound machine. He sat on the bed while he scanned me so that I couldn't see the screen and that was the moment that I knew something was definitely wrong.
I knew he didn't want me to see what he could see.
After asking a colleague in to confirm what he could see, the doctor told me that he was sorry but that my baby had no heartbeat.
I have never felt pain like that in my life.
I didn't know what it meant for words to hit you until that moment. His words did hit me, like a tonne of bricks. I couldn't speak, I just cried and cried. A student midwife who had been chatting to me was there and she held me as I crumbled and I will never forget her. I felt so alone in that moment and she was there for me. I kept thinking of my 3 boys at home and how I had to tell them their brother was dead. I didn't want to hurt them and I knew I would have to.
They managed to get me to ring my husband and he arranged someone to look after the children while he came to the hospital.
I remember thinking I wanted to run, run away and hide, but that I couldn't because it was my body. Harlan was still inside me. I had to give birth while I was feeling like dying. That thought struck me so clearly and I was devastated.
The doctors wanted to induce me but because I was already having contractions and because they weren't worried about Harlan's safety they said I could labour for the rest of the night and see if I progressed naturally. By 8am things had really got going and I was happy to get on with the birth myself. I gave birth to Harlan at 10:25am having had no pain relief and to be honest the birth was amazing. I felt empowered and I felt like I had been strong for him in the only way that I could. I brought him into the world in the same beautiful was as I had his brothers and I look back fondly on that moment.
My husband held Harlan first. I needed time to prepare myself. Giving birth and not hearing the baby cry is a very odd experience. Not feeling them latch on to your breast, not holding their warm little body to your skin. I ached for those things in that moment. As I was in the delivery ward I could hear other babies crying the whole time I was there and it broke my heart every time.
When I did hold Harlan, I felt the pain all over again. He was so beautiful but he couldn't look at me, he couldn't set off on his journey of life, he was just still. Just quiet and cold and still.
Harlan spent the whole day with us. We dressed him, my dad and stepmum came and they held him. I didn't feel like it was so important at the time, to me he was a shell, the shell of my baby, the soul that I had spent 31 weeks building and feeling move around inside me. The still little body wasn't my son. But now when I look back, I wish I'd taken more time to learn his features and to just hold him. I would give anything to just hold him again, even for a minute.
That week we had floods and power cuts in our area which made it an even more difficult week. The funeral was delayed because the registry office was closed and we couldn't get food easily or entertain the children. I was in a fog of grief. I felt hopeless.
Harlan's funeral was so sad. I wish there was a word for how it feels to cremate your baby. Devastating, frustrating, painful.... none of them are enough.
Harlan James Read-Moore was born sleeping on 3rd December 2015 and cremated on 14th December 2015.
Lydia x
I had an early scan, due to being super impatient at about 9 weeks and saw that everything was as it should be. Baby's heart was beating, everything measured perfectly and it was happy days. I announced my pregnancy that day as by number 4 I had no fears that anything could go wrong after seeing that perfect scan!
I had my 12 week scan and then another private scan at 16 weeks where we found out we were expecting our 4th boy. We were over the moon and starting deciding on names. After my 20 week scan and seeing that everything was still perfect I started to wash all of the boy's old baby clothes and muslins, bought tiny nappies etc. Started getting prepared for our newest family member.
I had a scan at 29 + 5 after seeing a Groupon deal for 4d scans and because we had decided that this baby would complete our family and so we wanted to make the most of every second. We went along and saw Harlan (whose name we had decided on by this point) and he was perfect. Moving around, covering his face, sticking his tongue out. It was truly beautiful. We were so amazed that we bought all of the images on a disc as we couldn't choose any we didn't want to buy!
A week and a half later, on a Wednesday evening (at 31 + 3) I started having fairly strong contractions. I had never had braxton hicks in any of my previous pregnancies so I thought it was a little unusual but carried on with my evening, eventually going to bed at 10pm. I laid in bed for an hour and did not feel Harlan move. I tried poking him, turning over, jiggling.... all the things that usually would have him dancing around in there. At this point I started to worry a little. I called the hospital a little after 11pm and the midwife asked me to come in so that they could monitor him and put my mind at rest.
I woke my husband up and told him I would be back soon but that I was just popping to the hospital to be checked over. I didn't pack a bag, I didn't get dressed, I just jumped in the car in my joggers and a sweatshirt and drove to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital the midwife was lovely. She said they would just pop the doppler on and check that he was doing ok.
When she put the doppler on there was no noise. No galloping, no nothing. She told me not to worry, he was probably just being awkward. After what seemed like an eternity of trying she went to get the consultant. The consultant couldn't pick up any sounds either. My mind was racing but I thought it was just some terrible coincidence that nobody could get the Doppler to work.
Shortly after this the doctor came back in with a portable ultrasound machine. He sat on the bed while he scanned me so that I couldn't see the screen and that was the moment that I knew something was definitely wrong.
I knew he didn't want me to see what he could see.
After asking a colleague in to confirm what he could see, the doctor told me that he was sorry but that my baby had no heartbeat.
I have never felt pain like that in my life.
I didn't know what it meant for words to hit you until that moment. His words did hit me, like a tonne of bricks. I couldn't speak, I just cried and cried. A student midwife who had been chatting to me was there and she held me as I crumbled and I will never forget her. I felt so alone in that moment and she was there for me. I kept thinking of my 3 boys at home and how I had to tell them their brother was dead. I didn't want to hurt them and I knew I would have to.
They managed to get me to ring my husband and he arranged someone to look after the children while he came to the hospital.
I remember thinking I wanted to run, run away and hide, but that I couldn't because it was my body. Harlan was still inside me. I had to give birth while I was feeling like dying. That thought struck me so clearly and I was devastated.
The doctors wanted to induce me but because I was already having contractions and because they weren't worried about Harlan's safety they said I could labour for the rest of the night and see if I progressed naturally. By 8am things had really got going and I was happy to get on with the birth myself. I gave birth to Harlan at 10:25am having had no pain relief and to be honest the birth was amazing. I felt empowered and I felt like I had been strong for him in the only way that I could. I brought him into the world in the same beautiful was as I had his brothers and I look back fondly on that moment.
My husband held Harlan first. I needed time to prepare myself. Giving birth and not hearing the baby cry is a very odd experience. Not feeling them latch on to your breast, not holding their warm little body to your skin. I ached for those things in that moment. As I was in the delivery ward I could hear other babies crying the whole time I was there and it broke my heart every time.
When I did hold Harlan, I felt the pain all over again. He was so beautiful but he couldn't look at me, he couldn't set off on his journey of life, he was just still. Just quiet and cold and still.
Harlan spent the whole day with us. We dressed him, my dad and stepmum came and they held him. I didn't feel like it was so important at the time, to me he was a shell, the shell of my baby, the soul that I had spent 31 weeks building and feeling move around inside me. The still little body wasn't my son. But now when I look back, I wish I'd taken more time to learn his features and to just hold him. I would give anything to just hold him again, even for a minute.
That week we had floods and power cuts in our area which made it an even more difficult week. The funeral was delayed because the registry office was closed and we couldn't get food easily or entertain the children. I was in a fog of grief. I felt hopeless.
Harlan's funeral was so sad. I wish there was a word for how it feels to cremate your baby. Devastating, frustrating, painful.... none of them are enough.
Harlan James Read-Moore was born sleeping on 3rd December 2015 and cremated on 14th December 2015.
Lydia x
Holding Harlan - Coping with a stillborn son as a dad
My amazing wife Lydia wrote honestly and movingly about the loss of our son who was Stillborn in December 2015.
I decided that I wanted to do the same from my point of view. Partly due to my hope that it may help other Dads who find themselves in this situation and partly because I hope it will act as a cathartic release for me and help me move forward. I write this as it comes to my mind and as far as possible, without editing or re-wording.
His name was Harlan and despite everything that happened, he was beautiful and he was ours. With him was our excitement, our hopes and our aspirations for him and all of our amazing family. I could imagine our four boys running around together, looking after each other and growing old together.
I had taken this for granted as I have other children and I knew that Lydia treated pregnancy so preciously that there would be nothing to worry about. I took things for granted.
One night, Lydia had woken me to say that she could not feel Harlan move and was just nipping to the hospital to get checked out. I stayed at home to look after the other kids and expected her message me in an hour or two with ‘false alarm – all is fine’ or words to that effect. Worries about pregnancy is such a natural thing and we had been for check-ups, tests and scans for all of the other pregnancies. It was just a normal thing.
Unfortunately, on that day, it wasn’t fine and Lydia found out that Harlan did not have a heartbeat.
She rang me in tears and I could hear from her voice a sense of desperation, disbelief and helplessness that I have rarely (if ever) heard from her. She needed me there and I needed to be there. I managed to arrange for some family members to come to look after the children and jumped in the car to the hospital.
On the way there, hundreds of things running through my mind, one thing came to the top – she needs to give birth to him.
How on earth can she be expected to give birth when he has died? How can she do that?
The most intense, difficult and beautiful thing was about to be ruined forever for all of us. How would she cope with that? How would it affect us as a couple? Will she ever be the same again?
I cannot describe the amount of panic and despondency I felt as I drove the 20 minutes to the hospital.
Our worlds were collapsing.
Our worlds HAD collapsed. How do we get through this? It hasn’t even started yet! What happens next? And on and on and on.
Reflecting on that time, I can see this was entirely a normal reaction to the situation. It was a tragedy, it was the stuff of nightmares. All I can tell you is that I felt like an absolute failure. How could I be so selfish to think of myself in a time like this? Why wasn’t I with her when she went to the hospital? Why didn’t I do more? I should have carried that heavy bag, taken more time off work, done more with the kids. Why, why, why?
Lydia has written beautifully about the experience she went through and I do not want to attempt to do that again. I can tell you from my point of view that I will never, ever see an act of bravery and determination that will come close to Lydia giving birth to Harlan. In the most dire of circumstances, came an amazing moment.
I was wracked with worry about how I would react when I saw my dead baby boy. How would he look? Would he be cold? Would I want to be near him?
The most amazing, beautiful little boy was born sleeping.
I took him from the midwife and held him in my arms, staring at him and imagining what it would be like if he beat all of the odds and took a breath. I cuddled him and broke down into tears. I looked at Lydia and couldn’t find the words. I knew I wanted to say that he was beautiful and that I was so proud of her for doing this for Harlan and me but I couldn’t get any words out. I just hugged him in the same way as I hugged all of my other boys. I then knew the answers to the questions I was worried about and for other Dads in the same situation, please take comfort.
They are beautiful, they are yours.
They are warm and they have been nurtured and cared for by Mum until the end. It may be different for others but at that time, I just wanted to hold him and be there.
I cannot imagine how Lydia was feeling, although we have talked about it since. I passed Harlan over to her and we sat with him all day. I am sure we were bewildered and distraught for most of that day but I do vividly remember being so proud of her and feeling that we had done the best we could have in the circumstances. Harlan had been born sleeping and there was nothing we could do about that but we had met him, cuddled him and spent time with him. The hospital were amazing and gave us clothes to dress him and left us to be with him for as long as we needed. We have a lock of his hair and casts of his hands and feet. At the time this was a blur but now, it is so precious.
One of my most vivid memories is me sitting at Harlan’s cremation, early on a Monday morning and holding him on my knee. In a plain white casket with beautiful flowers on top. Not knowing how to feel but knowing that I needed to be there for my wife and my kids. Making sure that the funeral was not a ‘scary’ thing for them but to say goodbye to Harlan and support Lydia who was heartbroken. The kids ran around and drew smiles from the small group who had joined us. In a lot of ways, it was a lovely send off. It was a sign of the strength of us as a couple, of our family and of our friends who were so supportive during that time.
To say goodbye to our beautiful boy in that way was a blessing in amongst the tragedy, fear and sadness that we had been through over the last few weeks.
I hold onto that memory as it gives me a huge amount of comfort that I did something ‘right’ and I was able to be ‘useful’ when so much of what had happened felt beyond my control and during which I felt so ‘useless’. I would have given anything to have had some control over what was happening or to have the ability to take away the pain and suffering from Lydia. I am at peace for the most part knowing that we did the best we could have and knowing that we are working hard to remember Harlan and make sure he is part of our family as we move forward.
I also recognise that I haven’t grieved long enough or hard enough yet. My strength is dealing with crisis and making sure others are okay. I feed off that and get my value from it. I am sure other people feel the same as this and for them, I hope this helps. Grieving is a natural and healthy thing. It NEEDS to happen or, as happened to me, you push it all down and hope it will be fine. It isn’t fine. It starts to affect your life, your relationship and everything that is important to you.
I am heartbroken that Harlan is not here.
I have a part of my life missing and I will never get that back. However, I have so much to be grateful for with my family and my amazing wife. This shared experience, despite the sadness, has strengthened us all and made us appreciate the things around us. Having been through it, it wasn’t as scary as imagining it. It has parts of joy and happiness in amongst the hopelessness and worry.
I am a Dad to Harlan as much as any of my kids and I will always be sad that I can’t be with him.
I do not take things for granted.
I decided that I wanted to do the same from my point of view. Partly due to my hope that it may help other Dads who find themselves in this situation and partly because I hope it will act as a cathartic release for me and help me move forward. I write this as it comes to my mind and as far as possible, without editing or re-wording.
His name was Harlan and despite everything that happened, he was beautiful and he was ours. With him was our excitement, our hopes and our aspirations for him and all of our amazing family. I could imagine our four boys running around together, looking after each other and growing old together.
I had taken this for granted as I have other children and I knew that Lydia treated pregnancy so preciously that there would be nothing to worry about. I took things for granted.
One night, Lydia had woken me to say that she could not feel Harlan move and was just nipping to the hospital to get checked out. I stayed at home to look after the other kids and expected her message me in an hour or two with ‘false alarm – all is fine’ or words to that effect. Worries about pregnancy is such a natural thing and we had been for check-ups, tests and scans for all of the other pregnancies. It was just a normal thing.
Unfortunately, on that day, it wasn’t fine and Lydia found out that Harlan did not have a heartbeat.
She rang me in tears and I could hear from her voice a sense of desperation, disbelief and helplessness that I have rarely (if ever) heard from her. She needed me there and I needed to be there. I managed to arrange for some family members to come to look after the children and jumped in the car to the hospital.
On the way there, hundreds of things running through my mind, one thing came to the top – she needs to give birth to him.
How on earth can she be expected to give birth when he has died? How can she do that?
The most intense, difficult and beautiful thing was about to be ruined forever for all of us. How would she cope with that? How would it affect us as a couple? Will she ever be the same again?
I cannot describe the amount of panic and despondency I felt as I drove the 20 minutes to the hospital.
Our worlds were collapsing.
Our worlds HAD collapsed. How do we get through this? It hasn’t even started yet! What happens next? And on and on and on.
Reflecting on that time, I can see this was entirely a normal reaction to the situation. It was a tragedy, it was the stuff of nightmares. All I can tell you is that I felt like an absolute failure. How could I be so selfish to think of myself in a time like this? Why wasn’t I with her when she went to the hospital? Why didn’t I do more? I should have carried that heavy bag, taken more time off work, done more with the kids. Why, why, why?
Lydia has written beautifully about the experience she went through and I do not want to attempt to do that again. I can tell you from my point of view that I will never, ever see an act of bravery and determination that will come close to Lydia giving birth to Harlan. In the most dire of circumstances, came an amazing moment.
I was wracked with worry about how I would react when I saw my dead baby boy. How would he look? Would he be cold? Would I want to be near him?
The most amazing, beautiful little boy was born sleeping.
I took him from the midwife and held him in my arms, staring at him and imagining what it would be like if he beat all of the odds and took a breath. I cuddled him and broke down into tears. I looked at Lydia and couldn’t find the words. I knew I wanted to say that he was beautiful and that I was so proud of her for doing this for Harlan and me but I couldn’t get any words out. I just hugged him in the same way as I hugged all of my other boys. I then knew the answers to the questions I was worried about and for other Dads in the same situation, please take comfort.
They are beautiful, they are yours.
They are warm and they have been nurtured and cared for by Mum until the end. It may be different for others but at that time, I just wanted to hold him and be there.
I cannot imagine how Lydia was feeling, although we have talked about it since. I passed Harlan over to her and we sat with him all day. I am sure we were bewildered and distraught for most of that day but I do vividly remember being so proud of her and feeling that we had done the best we could have in the circumstances. Harlan had been born sleeping and there was nothing we could do about that but we had met him, cuddled him and spent time with him. The hospital were amazing and gave us clothes to dress him and left us to be with him for as long as we needed. We have a lock of his hair and casts of his hands and feet. At the time this was a blur but now, it is so precious.
One of my most vivid memories is me sitting at Harlan’s cremation, early on a Monday morning and holding him on my knee. In a plain white casket with beautiful flowers on top. Not knowing how to feel but knowing that I needed to be there for my wife and my kids. Making sure that the funeral was not a ‘scary’ thing for them but to say goodbye to Harlan and support Lydia who was heartbroken. The kids ran around and drew smiles from the small group who had joined us. In a lot of ways, it was a lovely send off. It was a sign of the strength of us as a couple, of our family and of our friends who were so supportive during that time.
To say goodbye to our beautiful boy in that way was a blessing in amongst the tragedy, fear and sadness that we had been through over the last few weeks.
I hold onto that memory as it gives me a huge amount of comfort that I did something ‘right’ and I was able to be ‘useful’ when so much of what had happened felt beyond my control and during which I felt so ‘useless’. I would have given anything to have had some control over what was happening or to have the ability to take away the pain and suffering from Lydia. I am at peace for the most part knowing that we did the best we could have and knowing that we are working hard to remember Harlan and make sure he is part of our family as we move forward.
I also recognise that I haven’t grieved long enough or hard enough yet. My strength is dealing with crisis and making sure others are okay. I feed off that and get my value from it. I am sure other people feel the same as this and for them, I hope this helps. Grieving is a natural and healthy thing. It NEEDS to happen or, as happened to me, you push it all down and hope it will be fine. It isn’t fine. It starts to affect your life, your relationship and everything that is important to you.
I am heartbroken that Harlan is not here.
I have a part of my life missing and I will never get that back. However, I have so much to be grateful for with my family and my amazing wife. This shared experience, despite the sadness, has strengthened us all and made us appreciate the things around us. Having been through it, it wasn’t as scary as imagining it. It has parts of joy and happiness in amongst the hopelessness and worry.
I am a Dad to Harlan as much as any of my kids and I will always be sad that I can’t be with him.
I do not take things for granted.
In memory of the missed angels, the lost angels, and the never
forgotten angels.
I wrote this blog back in October for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, however I could never bring myself to press the big shiny ‘Publish’ button. For some reason, talking to friends and family about your angel baby is somewhat easier than opening your heart to the world wide web. But now, after watching the harrowing scenes on Coronation Street, I have re-read the words that had fallen onto the page back in October and it feels the right time to share this with you...
Nearly everyone I've spoken to haven mentioned Val and the Tigerlily Trust. After experiencing baby loss herself, Val now offers various support for families that have experienced loss too.
Val shares lots of supportive posts over on her facebook page. If you're looking for some help or support on navigating loss or if you're not really sure what you're looking for but have experienced loss then pop across and see what Val has to say.
Val shares lots of supportive posts over on her facebook page. If you're looking for some help or support on navigating loss or if you're not really sure what you're looking for but have experienced loss then pop across and see what Val has to say.