This is a long post, and sad, so I apologise in advance if it upsets anyone. It was helpful for me to write it, I have to say; and I sincerely hope that in future it might be of some help to someone facing the same situation as us - this is what happened to us after our second trimester baby died in the womb.
Thomas was born at 12.55am on the 25th August. As some of you might recall, I had already started havering about VBAC, so I am proud of the fact that in the end I got through his birth (with wonderful support from dh and our midwife) on just gas and air. I decided I wanted to try and give him the birth I'd have tried for if things had turned out differently. I do also react badly to morphine both physically and psychologically, before anyone thinks I am a complete masochist.
I was admitted Saturday morning and finally went into the Delivery Suite at 10.50pm. During the day I was given two lots of prostaglandins vaginally, and then one lot by mouth. I only had major contractions for about 2.5 hours.
Thomas was very small and fragile, so although we were able to see him and spend time with him, it was not possible to hold him or dress him which we had been told we might be able to do. He was very beautiful to our eyes but at 20 weeks did not look as though he ever had much of a chance. We have some photos and a smudgy set of footprints. We chose the name Thomas because it had no family resonances (nor did we know any little Thomases), but when we met our dear boy, he was so small all I could think of was Tom Thumb. The hospital wrapped him in a shawl we had brought for him, and supplied a tiny Moses basket for him.
I was out by late morning the next day. While there, we saw at least three people who looked after us when DS1 was born, and they remembered us (or said they did), which was very kind. The hospital relocated in 2001 and the new building has a special room for people in our situation, endowed by parents who went through something similar last year. So for all of the time except for three hours in delivery, we were in a quiet room, aside from the main action, and equipped with its own bathroom, a double bed, CARPET, TV, fridge, sink, kettle etc, and a sofa. Not unlike a Travelodge, to be honest. We had plenty of company when we wanted it, as staff kept popping in to chat, and one-to-one care right through the night.
I will never forget the midwife who helped me deliver Thomas. She only qualified last year and her chosen speciality is helping young single mums on two local estates with severe social problems. She was simply wonderful. The hospital also has a new, pilot project which funds a part-time Bereavement Midwife. We had to wait over a week for her to come back from leave, which was hard, and if I?m honest, there were times when I felt abandoned and forgotten after we were discharged from hospital. But we know about the terrible staffing problems there and we know the intentions were always good. When we finally met the Bereavement Midwife it was like meeting the best sort of well-informed old friend. She knew ALL the answers to ALL my questions ? and being an A* nosy parker I had a lot of them.
We decided to have a postmortem for Thomas and that has now been done. We will get the results, along with all my test results, at the beginning of October. We have only a 50/50 chance of finding a definite reason for his death, which is one of the hardest things to take at the moment.
In the meantime we are planning a service of thanksgiving for him at our parish church. We have friends (one of them is married to the Assistant Parish Priest who will conduct the service) who have been through similar hard times and they have helped us with making arrangements. Someone had to tell us that with very small bodies a lot of crematoria will not supply ashes, and I?m glad that someone was not an undertaker.
I am so relieved and touched that throughout what we went through Thomas was referred to as our baby and not a miscarriage. He had his own hospital notes and ID tags, despite what we all knew in advance. I'm up and down emotionally, as you can imagine, I don't need to say more than that. Physically I'm OK and recovering well. I didn?t get any milk, thank goodness ? at nearly 21 weeks it can go either way and no-one could predict this for me.
Life goes on at home. DS1 took the news (simply told in response to a question) sadly but was playing cheerily with Brio ten minutes later, which we found reassuring given he is only three. He has been such a source of comfort to us ? we had his picture with us in hospital to remind us of what we had to be thankful for back at home, and that what happened to us last month (it feels like 1,000 years ago sometimes) is NOT the way it usually is.
As others have said on this site, you find out who your fearless, committed friends really are when the chips are down. Our house and phone have been shunned as though plague-stricken by some people whom we had hoped would ring or even e-mail. Other friends have been fantastic. I implore all Mumsnetters who might ever have friends in our situation, don?t hesitate ? pick up that phone. I can almost guarantee they will be touched and delighted to hear from you, even if they are not up to talking much.
And all the messages posted about Thomas here have helped so much too. We will be printing them out to add to his Memory Book. Every evening (and there have been some) that our home felt like a place of doom, it was cheering to remember that so many people were thinking of us ? and the Slagging off the Childcare Gurus thread brought a smile to my face when nothing else worked! Thank you all.