Our Story
James’ pregnancy was a shock but in the end a much-wanted surprise. The pregnancy was going well until we hit 33 weeks. It was a regular Monday night, I didn’t feel right so I used an at-home blood pressure machine, which gave a high reading. We kept an eye on it but the levels were creeping up, so off we went to get it checked late Monday night.
On paper I’m asthmatic and so was refused the blood pressure medication Labetalol and instead I was prescribed Nifedipine. Eventually it worked and my blood pressure moved lower, so we were sent home on Tuesday morning on the instruction that we come back Wednesday to have my blood pressure checked, a scan and to go on the heartbeat monitor.
On the Wednesday, when asked how I felt, I explained how awful the tablets were making me feel. My symptoms were extreme dizziness, panic attacks, extreme exhaustion alongside a few other things. A doctor on maternity triage explained this was normal side effects for the medication. The scan came back normal, and we had a great reading on the monitor for the baby’s heartbeat.
My partner and I went home feeling reassured that everything was well with the baby. I woke up on the Thursday morning and noticed I wasn’t getting any ‘big kicks’ but felt some sort of movement. We carried out our normal day taking Christmas decorations down, but I noticed the whole day went by without any ‘big kicks’. I tried the usual things to get baby moving; cold water, sugar, loud music, jumping, but nothing worked to feel a strong movement. In that moment in my heart I knew something was wrong.
We went to the hospital and we were seen straight away. The monitor didn’t pick up a heartbeat so we were taken into a private room while we waited for a consultant to come and scan. He came and scanned me in complete silence, before going to get another consultant. They scanned me again and broke the worst five words any parent can hear during pregnancy: ‘Sorry, there isn’t a heartbeat’.
Our world collapsed. I remember hearing a scream but not realising it was coming from me. I had to get out of the hospital, I needed to and wanted to run from it all – surely if I run, it would just all stop? It would be a mistake?
We did go home but returned the next day to find out what the next steps were because, to be frank, no one truly knows or is ever prepared for what happens if your baby dies late in in pregnancy.
We were given some tablets to take and was sent home for 48 hours ‘while they worked’. There was a chance I would go in to labour naturally but i didn’t. Two days later on 2nd January we went back with my bags, now packed for a completely different scenario from what we first anticipated when I originally packed them.
I was given a drug to induce labour, and slowly but surely the contractions came and intensified. At 7am on the 3rd January our gorgeous baby was born. How can a baby’s silence be so deafening? James’ daddy cut the cord and told me we’d had a boy. We had 48 special and precious hours with our son.
We took a lock of his hair, his hand and footprints, we took photos, I changed his nappy…we squeezed in as many memories as possible in very small amount of time. Some family came to meet James, to say hello and goodbye in one sweet moment.
Passing our son over to our bereavement midwife and leaving that hospital with nothing but a box of memories and a teddy completely and utterly broke us. That’s not how things are meant to happen. I don’t remember the drive home, I don’t remember the following two days. The first memory I have is leaning into his memory box screaming for my baby. The pain is still there, we’ve just learnt to live with the pain, the want and love for our boy which is what’s lead us to this point…to do as much as we can in his memory as possible, so please join us along the way in honour of all the babies who grew their wings to soon xx
