On the 30th or September 2021, I phoned Tom to hurry him home from work desperate to share with him some exciting news. I wouldn’t let myself believe that our dreams were coming true and I could be pregnant, we’d just started our house renovation, a new chapter of life was beginning…and all I could think was bloody hell we’re lucky.
We were both so excited by the news, something we’d been talking about for a while. Our dreams became a reality and we felt like the luckiest people in the world.
We spent the following weeks and in fact the next 7 months planning and envisaging our future as a 3. Tom, ours son and me. Watching my bump growing, buying things for Baby Wicks, making plans for what our life would be like with our gorgeous baby boy we’d hold in our arms.
I spoke and sung to Baby Wicks everyday, I got used to feeling like I was never alone, feeling every wriggle, elbow and kick he made. I loved every minute of it all. My confidence in myself was growing and Although life was busy, I got into a habit of Sharing my pregnancy and pictures on social media to keep our friends and family updated. I wanted everyone to share in our joy. We were so beyond excited to become parents. Amongst the sickness, backache and the pregnancy heartburn- Life was so exciting!
On the 22nd of March 2022, sadly, our whole world got turned upside down and those dreams of what our future would be like were cruelly snatched away from us. The unthinkable, the unimaginable was happening.
At 29 weeks and 5 days pregnant, we went to Wrexham Maelor for a growth scan. It was at 12:22 that day we heard those dreaded words “I’m sorry, I can’t find a heartbeat”. 7 words. 7 words that lead to so much heartache, tears and devastation.
Ours hearts broke. Time stood still. In complete and utter shock that this was happening. They couldn’t be right. Surely. This couldn’t happen to us? Why would it happen to us? Does this even happen at 30 weeks? Are we the only ones? Did we do something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Was something wrong with our baby? The questions hung in the air and The helplessness of the situation was engulfing.
The sonographer lead us to the labour ward where we were greeted by the staff. I had only imagined setting foot on that ward when I was about to give birth to our son and bring him home. Never in my life did I ever believe we would be here for the total opposite reason. The steps I took that day were like what I can only describe as an out of body experience.
The staff working on the labour ward at the hospital were incredible. So kind. So caring. So reassuring that I had done nothing wrong. Listening to every word we said and comforting us with their kindnesses with every tear we cried. One even sat on the floor with me and held my hand as I sobbed crippled to the floor wanting the ground to swallow me whole.
Every midwife, consultant, student midwife, every single member of staff working on that labour ward, went out of there way to show us the best of humanity at every turn of events that day….they showed us compassion, respect and support - and even to this day I don’t think I could ever find the words to tell them how grateful I am for holding our hands on the loneliest, hardest, saddest journey of our lives.
The consultant told us that it didn’t look like we’d get a reason as to why this had happened. There appeared to be no anomalies. I was healthy. Baby Wicks appeared healthy. From that very moment the consultant explained that over half of people who experience a stillbirth never ever get a reason as to why. There were No reason as to why our boy hadn’t been able to take a breath in this world. And we had no choice but to accept it.
It quickly became apparent how much a stillborn baby also affects the midwives and consultants who have to share this news and make plans for moving the situation forward… no matter how heartbreaking it can be. They are obligated to give you medication and important information and ask you to make decisions, even though they know you’re not taking any of it in. You can see in their eyes they want to take your pain away.
Despite all of the compassion and support we had been shown that day, and all the reassurance that I had done not a single throng wrong, I left the hospital feeling lonely. Empty. Guilty. Guilty that I hadn’t provided Tom with the little boy he so wanted and deserved to bring home, guilty our parents wouldn’t have a grandchild to hold in their arms. I felt physically lonely and empty as Baby Wicks didn’t wriggle or kick inside me any more…and I knew I’d never feel him do so again. My heart was completely broken but above anything, I left the hospital that day and felt like I had failed. I had failed my son, my family and failed in my role as a mother. I wanted to run away and hide from the world I was so disappointed in myself and there was no way I could fix this.
When I got home I started looking through the information booklets that we’d been given, and reverted to googling, desperately trying to soak in how this can happen so late on and with no apparent reason….and that’s when I realised that this situation is not as uncommon as I thought…I wasn’t alone. I’d become part of the worlds worst girl gang.
Never the less, the subject of stillbirth is rarely spoken about. I’m not sure if that’s because no one wants to scare a pregnant women, or steal her naivety during pregnancy, or if it’s because people never know what to say, or struggle to find the words to use when you have lost your child or you don’t get to bring them home with you, or if it’s simply because the unthinkable can in fact, actually happen.
Desperate to reach out for some support I spoke to Amy, a friend of my mums who’d been through the same experience.
Amy gifted us 2 Nut Brown Hares - one for us and one for Baby Wicks, they were to be there with us on this journey, a small slice of comfort amongst this awfulness and something we could cling too….they became affectionately known as ‘Bun’.
On the 24th of March 2022 our beautiful baby boy was born at 10:10pm. Luckily, My labour was easy & He was perfect in every single way. In some ways knowing he was so perfect and seeing he looked like a sleeping baby was bitter sweet. He didn’t look in pain, he looked so peaceful and perfect sleeping….but the cruelness of the situation hung over me. I didn’t get to take my baby home when so so many others did.
The midwives who cared for the 3 of us in the Maelor were incredible. Their sensitivity, kindness and compassion is something that stays with me to this day. Even in my darkest of days I think about the love they showed us and how phenomenal they were. Again, I wish I had the words to express our thanks to them, but know that no amount of words would ever do it any justice. I hope that for those midwife’s in the room tonight, our want to make a change and our feelings of love for them is enough to know what an impact they have had on us.
Through our horrific journey, Both of the Buns came with us on every step. The Steps through the hospital corridors, the conversations and the medications, Me being induced, labour, birth, after birth decisions and discussions…. everything. Bun made us feel we weren’t alone. It gave us something to cling on to, something tangible we could hold in our hands. Something that was our Sons.
We navigated our way through did we want to see Baby Wicks? Did we want footprints and handprints taken? Did we want to name him? Did we want to hold him? Did we have an outfit for him? Questions we never thought we would have to answer about our son and at the end not be able to take him home…. Every step of the way our pair of Buns were there with us too. Out of all the questions we answered the evening he was born, The only question we definitely knew the answer to was that we wanted our son to have his Bun as soon as he arrived in this world. That way a piece of us would always be with him and a piece of him would always be with us.
The following few days saw us have to discuss post-mortem arrangements and agreements, register Baby Wicks’ life and death and make plans for the undertakers. Again conversations we never dreamed we would ever be having.
In those days that followed I felt overwhelmed with emptiness. Like nothing I had ever felt before. A physical emptiness because he wasn’t in my tummy anymore, but Baby Wicks wasn’t in my arms either. I had so much love to give and absolutely nothing to pour it into. Every step of the way I clung onto Bun for some comfort, taking strength from our son to get through the process and make him proud, a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone and in a way he was there with me.
The love, guidance and support we were given by our bereavement midwife Lucy through this stage was also incredible. She broke this process down into manageable chunks, guiding us through this unbearably painful decision making process 1 step, 1 decision at a time. Sharing in our sadness and normalising our grief. Again she showed us the very best of humanity through an awful situation.
Since we received this news and have lived through this unimaginably painful reality, our hearts have been broken. There have been days we’ve wiped one another’s tears away, days we’ve clung onto one another for dear life. Nights we’ve fallen asleep clinging onto bun. Days we’ve depended on our friends and family to get us through the day. But someone that’s been with us every step of the way is Bun.
On Mother’s Day, Tom and I, along with Baby Wicks’ grandparents, went to visit him at the hospital. Ours and Baby Wicks’ Buns were once again reunited & I was able to read to him the Guess How Much I Love You book, where the nut brown hares are the 2 characters. We left baby Wicks with his Bun again & took ours home with us as we’d done before when we said our final goodbyes.
Baby Wicks Bun was cremated with him, along with the book I’d read him, so that he would never be alone.
Until this day, Bun is still a huge part of our lives. Many will have seen me in the weeks and months since Baby Wicks birth clinging onto this little Bun for dear life. He gives me strength on the days I feel I don’t have any, guides us through the difficult path we’re on, but ultimately, his cute little face reminds us of how perfect our baby boy born sleeping is and how proud of him we are.
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