My boy...

(141 Posts)
MrsY Thu 03-May-12 09:33:51

I was due on April 14th with our son, a little brother for our three year old daughter. I’d had a difficult pregnancy and labour with our daughter (PET), and despite a few early bleeds, this pregnancy was ‘low risk’ so I was given the go ahead for a midwife led delivery at the birth centre. I’d had a couple of sweeps as my consultant was very keen for me not to go overdue. I’d had a bit of a show, and then on Easter Sunday the contractions started. I timed them through church and Sunday lunch without anyone noticing, and then my mum realised what was happening. We decided to go home and get settled, put our daughter to bed and see what happened. The contractions were getting stronger and closer, and we decided to call my mum to come over, in case we needed to go in. We called the birth centre at about 9pm and they said to go in. We left mum at the house and headed in, and we called my friend who’s a midwife and was going to be my second birth partner to meet us there.

When we got to the birth centre, the mw listened to the baby’s heartbeat, I was examined and was still only 3cm dilated. BP taken and was fine – phew, and the midwife checked through all my notes and then broke the news that my latest set of blood results indicated my iron were too low and I would have to deliver at the main hospital as I my risk level was too high for the birth centre. I was devastated. Because I was still on 3cm, we headed home, thinking that if things picked up we would have to go to the hospital. When we got home, the mw called and said that she had checked the blood results on her system, and it was different than the ones in my book; I had been given the wrong results, so I was fine and could go back to the birth centre when the time was right.

Managed to get some sleep, as the contractions eased off about 3am. In the morning, mum left and we got back to normal. J’s parents called round to see if we needed anything and they decided to take our daughter home with them to give us time to rest and in case things kicked off. We spent the day pottering round with contractions coming on and off throughout. We went to bed and J ran me a bath when the contractions picked up again. They were coming about every 5 mins apart, and were getting really strong, so we called the birth centre again, about 3:30-ish. They said to go in, so in we went. We explained what had happened the night before, and she started her obs. BP was higher than normal, and then she tried to check his heartbeat, but couldn’t find it. She re-assured me that it didn’t necessarily mean what we thought it meant, but said they would have to blue light us to the hospital. We were praying so hard as we waited for the ambulance. J was going to drive behind the ambulance, and I asked for the gas and air, partly so I could manage the pain of the contractions, partly so I could suspend my fears until we knew what was going on.

During the half hour journey to the hospital, I zoned in and out of the paramedic and mw’s conversation but spent most of the time praying everything would be ok. When we got to the delivery room, J and our friend E were waiting for us. They told me I’d need to move onto the bed, and as I moved, I felt the baby’s head. I’d gone to 10cm and the baby was crowning. E told me to open my eyes and focus on what she said, and calmed me down enough to concentrate on pushing. Two pushes later and I had delivered him. He was taken straight away for resus. For 15 mins we heard them try and give our son life, but I knew that it was no use. E had seen him and realised that he had probably gone a few hours before birth, and had warned us that he probably wouldn’t make it. I remember saying at one point ‘they’re going to stop soon, aren’t they?’ and she said they probably would. I very nearly asked them to stop, but couldn’t quite bring myself to.

After 15 minutes, they stopped and one guy came over to tell us that our son hadn’t made it. Then it was like something from a book or film. I heard a noise that sounded like an injured wild animal, and realised it was me making the noise.

Our son, Benedict John Peanut was born at 6am on Tuesday, April 10th.

treedelivery Mon 25-Jun-12 22:51:20

(((((((((hugs)))))))))

MrsY Wed 27-Jun-12 15:04:56

Grief is a lake. Sometimes it is choppy and sometimes it is calm. But the water is deep and the water is cold. When you're thrown in, you are so shocked you don't feel the water, but you allow yourself to be taken by the current. You can try and tread water, but you'll never stay in once place for long. The water is so deep that you can't keep your head above water level. You are drowning. Then, you realise that if you stand on tip-toes, you can just stretch tall enough to breathe. It's hard and it's tiring, but you have to do it. You just keep praying that you're strong enough to keep standing on your tip-toes.

Darling Benedict. It's so hard to breathe without you. I recently read that every day I live is a day closer to living with you for eternity. Sometimes I feel so tempted to speed things up and be with you now. You should be with your mummy, you must be so scared. But my husband has lost his son, my mum has lost her grandson and my daughter has lost her brother, all of which I am responsible for. I can't be responsible for more loss and sadness. I hope that until I join you and hold you in my arms, you are happy and safe with our friends and family in heaven. I love you so much.

treedelivery Fri 29-Jun-12 22:30:57

You have a heavy heart my love. What a lot you are carrying.

Try to share your load where you can, your husband loves you and will want to share your load. Perhaps if you carry some of his grief and he some of yours, somehow the load will feel lighter.

I don't believe Benedict is scared you know. I think he is actually peaceful, resting and waiting. Bathed in golden light and warm breezes and unaware of time or space. You will have eternity with him, when the time is right. Until then keep a watch out for the golden light and warm breezes. Little reminders that eternity awaits you, when the time is right.

Now, you are needed here. You have some more work to do with your dd and your husband and your family. This is only a little time in comparison to eternity. Hang on and keep treading water. You will get stonger at it and the golden light and warm breezes will warm the water.

I hope you don't think I'm bonkers. The sunset shone in my window all evening and it made gold ripples on my wall. It is warm here today and the breeze has an almost tropical heat and softness to it. It has been a beautiful evening and I thought often of you and our other dear one who shared pain recently. xxx

mrsY I also see grief like water... for me, it comes in waves. Sometimes they are huge, and I go under, and they scare me with their force. Then they subside, and become more gentle, and I can bob along on the top. Sometimes I can feel the sun on my face. Sometimes the salt hurts my eyes. Below, the water always moves under me, taking me somewhere, a force of nature stronger than me. Like you, I look forward to arriving on a far shore where I know I will be with Mia again.

I also worried for a while that Mia was scared without me. But I kept on receiving little messages which told me she is still with us, in ways I cannot understand, but ways I now simply accept. In the same way, Benedict is with you, in the beauty of nature, in the song of the birds, in the smiles of his siblings. He will always be there, and he is a part of you. That, I can promise you.

MrsY Tue 03-Jul-12 14:49:12

Thanks both.

It's amazing how much the tone of my posts change when I read back. I can definately tell how high the water level was each time I posted.

MrsY Tue 10-Jul-12 08:49:10

We're on our holiday right now. Our lovely family holiday that we planned and booked with such excitement. It's lovely, but we should have our boy with us, he should be splashing in the pool and experiencing this happy time with us. I feel so guilty for carrying on and doing all the things that we should be doing with him, without him.

B, I love you so very much. I miss you always and will come and see you soon. xxxx

MrsY Mon 20-Aug-12 14:18:35

My darling boy. I miss you so much. All I want to do is curl up and be with you.

Oh, yes, I recognise that feeling... it is just impossible, isn't it? Such a small request, you'd think it would be so easy to fulfil. x

BabyBorn Sat 25-Aug-12 11:48:24

Mrs Y. I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I read this and cried my eyes out. I had my dd on the 15th of April, so when I was giving birth you had already lost your son. I'm so so sorry. Life is very cruel. My thoughts are with you.

Xxx

MammyToMany Sat 25-Aug-12 12:12:05

I am so so sorry for the list of your beautiful boy.

Your words have moved me to tears, I am thinking of you all xx

MammyToMany Sat 25-Aug-12 12:12:36

Loss not 'list' sorry.

MrsY Sat 25-Aug-12 12:31:11

Thank you both very much.

Mias, it's certainly a 'life's not fair' moment.

Benedict will always be with you. I hope the water becomes still and less choppy as time passes.
You write so movingly and beautifully about your peanut, he knew only love and comfort. He was special.
Thinking of you xxxx

MOSagain Sun 26-Aug-12 17:27:29

Thinking of you today MrsY and sending you lots of hugs. Also, just another reminder, it is nothing you did sweetie, it was just one of those horribly cruel things that sadly happen to wonderful people xxx

nkf Sun 26-Aug-12 17:31:15

Heartbreaking. I am so sorry.

MrsPoxY Tue 13-Aug-13 22:34:07

xxx

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