A Mummy’s Story

I think most hospitals have rooms where, on the surface, they appear more comfortable, less clinical. These rooms are usually reserved for negative conversations and bad news, I suppose they hope that a less clinical room is more comforting. In Stepping Hill they have a room, I can’t remember it’s name - didn’t really want to - it is a warm pink, with big comfy sofas and lots of leaflets and books on various pregnancy conditions and support groups. On the surface its a nice room. The first time we were taken to this room was to discuss the high risk results I told you about previously. I cannot begin to describe the darkness I felt in this room. The air was heavy with the weight of all the conversations that had come before. I could feel the pain, the sadness, the anxiety and the tears shed by so many previously. It was as if the room sucked out any hope you may have and just left you in the dark. I never wanted to see this room again...

We found out I was pregnant in the summer of 2018. All seemed well at the 12 week scan, no concerns, and I had the blood test to screen for Down’s, Patau’s and Edward’s syndromes. All very routine. A few days later I received a voicemail from the midwives that they needed to discuss my results. We had to wait an entire weekend to be able to call them back, telling myself that everything would be fine, when inside my anxiety was creeping in. When I finally spoke to the midwife she explained that my blood test had come high risk for all 3 syndromes and my heart sank.  To put it in context only 5% of women get a high risk result. Low risk is deemed any woman with a result above a 1 in 150 chance of either syndrome. ‘Normally’ the chances of Down’s syndrome is roughly 1 in 350 for a woman of my age, Patau’s and Edward’s syndromes 1 in 5000 chance. My results showed a 1 in 5 chance of Down’s and a 1 in 32 chance of Patau’s and Edward’s syndromes. Now to clarify at this point th...

This weekend marks 6 months since my beautiful baby girl took her final breath. Every day that passes moves our time together further and further away. People think time is a healer, and in many cases it is, but in this case it isn’t. The more time that passes the more the emptiness grows, I’m clinging on for dear life to our time together. My heart hurts in the most unbearable way. I would trade in everything to spend 1 more second with her, looking at her, feeling her, breathing her in. I don’t have that choice.  We used to spend every afternoon having skin on skin cuddles, for hours and hours on end. It was our time, the best time of my life, just being with her, closing my eyes and imagining we were alone, that there was no hospital, no beeping, no tubes. I used to sing to her. I do think the trauma of our situation did affect me as so many songs I knew so well were not available to me to recall. However, there was one song, that, when I think of the lyrics, was ...

Reality... originally my plan was write this blog chronologically, however, there was a weekend that had a huge impact on my emotions and I thought it was important to write about this now. On a Friday afternoon, 4 weeks ago, I found out I was the preferred candidate for a new job at work. This job is absolutely perfect for me and I am perfect for the job, it’s a huge promotion and I was thrilled to accept the offer - as anyone would be. Now, however, events are all tinged with sadness, nothing occurs without an emptiness and a pain that doesn’t go away. I wouldn’t have this new job had I not lost Evelyn, my life at this time, due to her condition, would have been devoted to her care. This is my reality. We did celebrate my new role, it is a joyous thing to be recognised and promoted, but I wanted to share with you the truth in my heart.  The celebrations stopped abruptly by Saturday as we were at the church to meet the stonemason. He will be engraving the stone where Ev...