Three days after our
wedding, I took a pregnancy test. I didn’t exactly believe I was pregnant- we
had been trying unsuccessfully for a year, including a very early miscarriage
in November. So when those two lines appeared, as clear as they could be, I
cried with happiness. I could not believe my luck, I had both my babies with me
on my wedding day!
I got symptoms straight
away- morning sickness, tiredness, cravings for spicy foods, weight gain,
nightmares.. You name it. We told our immediate family and everyone was just so
excited. Our family was complete.
As time went on, I worried.
I worried about too much weight gain, how much I was eating, that something
wasn’t right, cramping.. I wasn’t allowing myself to enjoy it. I had an early
ultrasound that showed no heartbeat, but at five weeks apparently it was
normal. Except I wasn’t five weeks, I was six – I knew the date of conception
so I was sure. Even so, I carried on as normal, and waited until eight weeks.
The ultrasound showed a heartbeat, and I was relieved. Again, my dates were
pushed back, but only by a couple of days so nothing to worry about. Then, at
eleven weeks, I had more cramping and spotting. So off we went again to
emergency, for an eight hour wait and an ultrasound by a doctor who admitted
she could see nothing because she had no experience with an ultrasound machine.
So an appointment for two days later was made, and we went home. I had lost
hope, plus I had started vomiting up everything I ate or drank. Eleven weeks
seemed too late for morning sickness to suddenly get so bad. The Tuesday came
and we had our ultrasound. There it was, a living baby. Relief again. I kept
vomiting for a week, everything I ate and most of what I drank. Then, just as
suddenly, it stopped.
Before our twelve week scan
I mentally prepared myself for the worst, the pregnancy had just felt so
different from my last. It was either a girl this time, or something was not
quite right. When we went in, the familiar sigh of relief when a moving baby
with a strong heartbeat popped up on the screen. Again, dates pushed back by a
couple of days, but all looked well. We came home, announced on Facebook, and
began getting excited now. I was past the safe point!
Two days before I turned
fourteen weeks, I went home from work because of light spotting and cramps.
After the experiences we’d had at the hospital, we decided it would be less
stressful if I just spent the weekend laying on the couch resting. On the
Sunday, we went and bought our fancy new double pram.
That week, I felt
fantastic. I had my energy back, my belly was looking pregnant and not just
fat, I was eating normally again, I was really enjoying myself. The next week,
my husband went away for work and I spent the time cleaning the house out –
nesting – no cupboard was left unscrubbed. My mother in law came over from Adelaide to take us to
the Wiggles and come with us to the private 3D gender scan at sixteen weeks.
The night before the gender
scan, I lay in bed thinking horrible thoughts. Tomorrow was not going to be
good. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to call my brother and tell him not to
come. I knew I the words I was going to hear. I didn’t sleep well, and soon it
was morning. I told my husband and his mum I was nervous, and it was strange
because I was never nervous about any of Jacob’s scans. In the car on the way
there I said “can I go in first and make sure everything is ok, then everyone
else come in?”
Maybe baby wouldn’t
cooperate and we wouldn’t find out the gender, maybe that was the bad feeling I
had. Or maybe it was just the normal nerves of pregnancy. Either way, my heart
was racing.
I lay down on the bed, my
mum, brother and his girlfriend, my husband, son and mother in law all in the
room too. My mother in law started to film everyone on her phone, and when the
ultrasound tech held up her hand for her to stop, my heart sank. She asked me
how many weeks I was meant to be, sixteen, where was I meant to be having
baby.. I looked at the screen and the stillness of my baby was heartbreaking.
There it was, just floating.
“I’m sorry, there’s no
heartbeat”
My mother in law and I
broke in to loud sobs, it took a moment for everyone else in the room to
realise. My husband brought my son to me and he cuddled me, everyone came to
hug me and say they were sorry. My baby.
I called the hospital and
made an appointment for the next day to discuss options. I felt disgusting. My
baby had died and was just floating in there, my body had let me think I was
pregnant and lied to me. How ridiculous, I can’t even tell if my baby is alive
or dead. I couldn’t even keep it alive, my one job.
The next day we went to the
hospital, where the most lovely midwife in the world took us into a little room
and explained what was to happen. She told me that I would have to be
induced to birth the baby. I was in shock, how was I meant to go into a
birthing suite with mothers giving birth to beautiful healthy babies, and walk
out with nothing? She said we could take baby home to bury it, or they could
deal with the remains. There was no procedure for babies born under twenty
weeks, so basically it would be thrown away. I wanted them to knock me out,
take it out and get rid of it. I was so angry.
We went home and talked. We
cried. We cried loud sobs that were just pure agony and sadness. We cried
together, agreeing not to look at each other and just let it out. We talked
about it, and giving birth seemed to be the most dignified way to end our baby's
story. I made my peace with it, and actually looked forward to the pain of the
contractions. I was it's mother, it was what I was meant to do. My brother came
over and we talked about what to do with the tiny body, he said we couldn’t
just throw it in the bin. We should cremate it. I went back for another
ultrasound at 4pm, and there it was, so still and so perfect. The man said it
was probably a boy. Our son.
After the gender scan, I
still held out some hope that she was wrong, she didn’t try hard enough, check
again! But there was no mistaking it now, there he was, he was gone. He had died
at around fourteen weeks – the time I left work early and rested. That’s why I
felt so good, my body had been working double time to fight to keep the little
man alive. I had been nesting because I was going to have a baby soon.
We went to my brother’s
house because our house seemed so empty, so quiet. I was booked for induction
at 9am the next morning. I didn’t want to go to bed because it meant when I
woke up it would be the day. I suddenly didn’t want them to take him, he was my
baby, he was meant to be with me. I didn’t want to let him go, I was meant to
protect him.
I went to bed and,
surprisingly, fell straight to sleep. I woke up at 4.30am with stomach pain. I
got up to check if I was bleeding, creeping down the hallway trying not to wake
anybody up. I went to the toilet, and a bloody fluid started coming out. I
quietly opened the linen cupboard and got the darkest towel I could find, grabbed
a roll of toilet paper, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. I held on
to the sink through the pain, then remembered what a girl had recently told me
about the feeling of needing to push. I felt it, but only slightly. I got a wad
of toilet paper and started to push. There he was. His cord was still attached
so I knew I couldn’t lift him up yet. I waddled down the hallway – all the time
thinking I hope my brother doesn’t wake up and see this! – and woke up my
husband.
“I’ve had him, I’ve had
him” I waddled back to the bathroom. My husband came in and I explained that
the placenta hadn’t come out, and call the ambulance just in case. He woke up
my brother who called the ambulance, and then another contraction and the
placenta came out and it was done. We lifted him up and had a look. He was so
cute, so complete, so tiny. His little hand was on his head, and we could see
that it was definitely a boy. Our tiny Cameron. I had him all by myself, just
the two of us, just as I was meant to. My final act as his mother.
There were no
complications, the hospital was happy to check him and let us leave, and by 9.13am
we were in the car to go home. It was over. There was baby Cameron on my lap,
wrapped in a beautiful little blanket that a charity makes for miscarried
babies, so perfect and sleeping. I went home and made him a little hat to keep
his head warm, and his tiny mouth opened when I put it on. I couldn’t believe
how much he already looked like his brother, it didn’t seem possible.
We went for lunch, and went
to my brother’s house. We wanted to make his birthday a happy day, and worry
about sadness later. It was so surreal, no one in the world knew what had just
happened to us.
My heart aches for my son.
For the hopes, the plans, the emptiness inside of my belly. I know that he was
never meant for this world, in the traditional sense, because my body had been
fighting to keep him alive and I was amazed that the little warrior had made it
this far. He made it far enough for his life to have such immense meaning.
I was angry at my body for
lying to me, for being his coffin, for not doing more to keep him alive. Now I
am in awe of my body, I am amazing. My body made sure I had time to go to that
ultrasound, to deal with my grief, to make the right choice, to be alone and
ready and give him the birth he deserved. It could have happened any time in
the two weeks before, in any other way, and I would have been terrified.
Instead, I was at peace, and it was beautiful.
He was brought to me to
teach me to love myself, my body, my life. He has strengthened relationships of
all of the people around me. There were so many key players – my husband, my
brother and his girlfriend, my family and inlaws, my online mothers group and
the one amazing woman who had been through the same thing and shared her story
with me and will never know how much strength she gave me, the midwife who was
the most caring person I have ever met, my friend that made me a care package
with all of my favourite things, the people who sent flowers, texts, facebook
messages/comments, the Pregnancy Loss Australia charity, the church that made
him a blanket to keep him warm, the lady who came to pick up his body to be
cremated and hugged me, and most of all- me. I am changed forever. Cameron will
affect lives in ways that most people can’t manage in a lifetime.
I love my baby boy. I will
miss him every single day. The tears will fall, my chest will tighten, my mind
will wander. There will be hard days. But if I could do it all again, I would
go through all of the pain just to find this peace.
Sleep well, little man.
Mummy loves you.