A Mummy’s Story

We sat down on the settee while we waited for the midwife. The weight of the room hitting me again, the weight of the 100s of terrible stories crushing your soul.  The midwife came into the room and explained that they had to act quickly to book an appointment at the fetal medicine unit at St Mary’s hospital in Manchester. The sonographer hadn’t quite explained everything at this point. The worst news was to come. The midwife explained that they couldn’t see that the heart was connected up. It hit me like a ton of bricks. We would have to wait an entire week now before we had our appointment with the obstetrician at St Mary’s to find out if our baby would survive.  Would I have to give birth to a dead baby? Why is this not going smoothly? Why us?  A week to ruminate on these questions. I was numb, I couldn’t really speak. It was such a long week...      

“Everyone is afraid of dying, until you lose a child... then you are afraid of living.” I couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve. In truth this is normal for me now, I haven’t slept properly since week 5 of pregnancy. I had pregnancy insomnia, then I didn’t really want to sleep when Evelyn was with us as the time I was asleep was time away from her. Since Evelyn passed away I don’t sleep due to grief, anxiety, PTSD and fear. I fear every day if I’m honest - sometimes I can cope with it and others it overwhelms completely.  So back to Christmas Eve. I was lay awake and I just ended up flicking through my phone. I messaged a few people hoping they might be up. I just sent messages of festive love. I ended up on Pinterest and I searched child loss. Sometimes it helps to see someone else put into words what you cannot. The above quote came up and it really summed up how this feels. You just don’t know what each day will bring, will it just be a slow ache all day or will something tri...