Tilly's story: Part 1 - Hopes and Dreams

My first few posts are going to be about Tilly's story, about her fight for survival and her strength to overcome. I'm not writing this to torture myself by reliving it all, I'm writing it because I'm scared of forgetting. Even the parts that are almost too painful to think about, I don't want to forget. Unfortunately, memories are all I have.

On the 29th December 2017 I saw those 2 faint lines on not 1, not 2 but 3 pregnancy tests. I couldn't believe it. I really thought it was too good to be true, things like this didn't happen to me. It was from then that the anxiety started. I for some reason didn't truly believe that in 8 months time I would be bringing a baby home.

A few weeks later when I suspected myself to be 7 weeks pregnant, I started with pain and spotting and ended up at our local hospital after a phone call with 111. Medical jargon was banded around the room by the Drs as we sat there waiting to see if our baby was still alive. They didn't know. I returned the next day for a scan and was told that there was only a yolk sac and this meant I was only measuring at 5 weeks. I convinced myself that being 5 weeks was impossible. I convinced myself that it was a molar pregnancy which wasn't going to develop any further. 2 weeks of torturous limbo later I returned for a further scan and I had again convinced myself it was going to be bad news. The scan began and it was then, for the first time, that I saw my baby's heart beating away.

The first time that I allowed myself to believe it.

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The Halcyon Suite

I admit that before Tilly was born I had never heard of maternity bereavement suites. I guess I had never had reason to and to be honest I wish I still didn't. Ignorance was bliss. After Tilly was born, I experienced 2 bereavement suites; The Halycon Suite at the RVI in Newcastle and due to some complications I also experienced the Willow Suite at the RLI in Lancaster. The following blog post is therefore drawn from my experiences at these two. A bereavement suite is a room, usually on or close by to the delivery suite/labour ward. It is a room where women either give birth to their babies or where they go, as a family, after their babies have been delivered elsewhere. As the name suggests, the mums and dads that stay in these suites are the parents of babies that have so sadly, passed away. They are wonderful rooms, designed with such compassion and care. They are often sound proofed or far enough away from other rooms so that you can't hear women in labour or even more ...

Maternity Leave with Empty Arms - 3 months

3 months ago today, on the 26th May, we welcomed our first born Tilly to the world. Then just 34 minutes later our hearts shattered as we had to say goodbye. I struggle with thinking about the "what ifs" because there are so, so many and they can be very confusing and painful for my grieving mind. What if she had survived being born at 25+1 weeks? I imagine even 3 months later that I probably would still be sitting next to her in Neonatal Care, reading to her, holding her hand and willing her to be strong. And then what if everything had been fine, what if I'd had a normal, healthy pregnancy? I imagine being 38+2 weeks pregnant. I imagine being pretty uncomfortable by now, hurrying up the weeks ahead. I imagine a finished nursery filled with freshly washed, new clothes for our eagerly awaited arrival. I imagine our beautiful pram in the corner of our living room; the pram that we had to cancel when our world fell apart. I remember reading the maternity policy at work wh...

Tilly's Story: Part 8 - Welcome to the World Little One

That evening after my MRI scan, I felt totally exhausted. Ian and I sat in the day room watching Coronation Street but I just wanted my bed. A discomfort in my abdomen that I had been aware of all day had started to worsen. I waddled back down to my room but by now I could hardly bear to sit down. The pain was worsening by the second. Ian helped me onto the bed and went to find a midwife. I'm not sure exactly what he said to her, maybe there wasn't enough urgency in his voice. All I know is that she didn't come quick enough. I remember seeing her sauntering down the corridor chatting away to a student midwife as I writhed around the bed in pain, my bump now beginning to feel like it was on fire. I had never felt pain like it. Things began to happen very quickly after this and my memory of it all starts to become a bit patchy. So forgive me if this post may seem a little disjointed. Maybe the patchiness is because of the drugs they started to plough into me or maybe it...

My Empty Arms

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