The Grief

In April 2015, I was in the last trimester with my second son, Patrick. It had been a textbook pregnancy with no issues or concerns. On April 17th, at 39 weeks, I become aware that his movements had changed. The night before he had been kicking footballs and doing flips, but now he was unusually still. 

The next morning, Saturday April 18th, I went to the hospital. Arriving at 9.30am, I had a CTG reader placed on me and we found that Patrick had turned breech. 

After reviewing the first CTG reading, a doctor said that Patrick needed to be delivered as the reading was very flat and he was showing signs of distress.

However, at some point the plan changed. The consultant on that day overruled the c-section and decided to perform an ECV - an External Cephalic Version. This was unsuccessful. A kleihauer test was done (I am negative blooded) and that was that. We were told to come back on Wednesday, in four days time, when another consultant would attempt another ECV. We left the hospital at 6.30pm. 

The next day, at 7pm, I received a phone call from the midwife that had first booked me in the previous day. She had the results of the kleihauer test. She said that it was a bit high, that usually they are 'ok' with a test reading of four. I asked her what my reading was and I thought she would say 7 or 8, but she said the blood test was 19. I asked whether I should come in and she told me the consultant was in no rush, to come in the next morning and they would give me more anti-D.

That night, at 9.30pm I felt Patrick kick strongly and I commented to my husband that he was still breech, that the kicks had been low down. 

At 10.30pm that day, Sunday April 19th, I received a phone call from a midwife asking me to come into the hospital because they wanted to check on Patrick. I was scanned but no heartbeat could be found.

My beautiful boy had died.

Patrick was born at 8.50pm on a Tuesday night, on April 21st, 2015. He weighed 7 pound 1 ounce and is the heaviest of my babies. He was perfect. As my husband said, 'he just looked like he was sleeping'.

Life has been tough since he died. Although I can never undo what happened, I can choose to make something positive out of the mistakes and negligence that caused my son's death; I can choose to help others through the murkiness of grief. 

This is where I find hope.