We will always remember our angel baby

We started trying for a baby in 2013 and it was almost two years before we fell pregnant. My irregular cycle made it difficult for us to conceive and doctors suggested that I might not even be ovulating. We trialled a series of drugs in order to stimulate ovulation and I eventually fell pregnant during the spring of 2015.

The 20-week scan

We had heard the baby’s heartbeat at 16 weeks, so we had no reason to suspect anything was going to be wrong at our 20-week scan. If anything, the midwife had done a fabulous job at calming my nerves.

At the hospital, my name was finally called. Nothing could have prepared me for what would happen during the next few minutes. The sonographer asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby and I excitedly told her that we didn’t want to find out. This seems so trivial now as just a few moments later, we found out that we had lost our baby. Sadly, no heartbeat could be found.

Heartbreak

We left the room desperately trying not to look at the faces of the expectant mothers, who were waiting for their scans. After travelling home in tears, barely able to catch my breath, I tried to gather my thoughts. I felt extremely guilty that my body had let us down and, just like that, all our future plans had been crushed. An hour or so later, we received a call from the hospital requesting that we go in to discuss how things would proceed. I still didn’t register what lay ahead.

More devastating news

The drive to the hospital felt like one of the longest journeys of my life. We met with a consultant who was very considerate and understanding. It was then that we received the devastating news that I would be expected to deliver the baby. Comprehending this was a mammoth task. I was told that I would need to take certain drugs to induce labour.

We were shown to the bereavement suite, a self-contained unit specifically for women experiencing a loss. We waited in the room for over two hours for the drugs to arrive and blood tests to be organised. At the time, I hated being in that room, shut away from other people as if this was some kind of secret. Later, however, this room became a huge comfort to me; a sanctuary during such a difficult time.

We returned home and the waiting process began. I knew that at some point during the next 24 to 48 hours, I could go into labour. Later that same day my mum came around. We hugged, we cried, and we talked, but nothing could take the pain away.

Back to the hospital

48 hours later, there had been no signs of labour. As instructed, we rang the hospital to organise when we could go in and receive more drugs to move the process forward. The response from the hospital was to come in whenever we were ready. I was torn between doing what was right for my body and desperately wanting to cling on to my baby.

We arrived at the bereavement suite and were given further information about what would happen. This time the room felt different. It was peaceful; it was our room where we would meet our baby.

Every few hours, the midwives would ask me how I was feeling. I had no idea what I was supposed to ‘feel’, or even what a contraction was. We hadn’t done anything to prepare for birth and had only briefly discussed antenatal classes. I wasn’t expecting to give birth for another four months.

As things progressed, we were taken to the delivery suite. Despite my initial fears about being surrounded by happy mums-to-be, it was a very quiet, private room. I was given gas and air for the contractions that were slowly taking hold. I did, however, feel like a bit of a fraud. All this support was being given to me, but my baby had already died.

Since the loss of baby Alex, we have gone on to have two more beautiful children, a little boy called Conor and a little girl called Megan. We sadly suffered another miscarriage in-between their births, so we feel extremely lucky that we have the family that we have always longed for. We will always remember our angel baby, Alex, and he continues to be a big part of our lives.

Our son's arrival

Not long after arriving in the delivery suite, I felt the urge to push. I genuinely didn’t think I would have this feeling, as my baby was so small, but I was secretly glad I got to experience some of the same things that any other mum-to-be would go through. The midwife gently advised me to ‘let go’, and very quickly, our baby was born. It was so hard letting go, especially as I knew that this would be the last intimate contact I would have with my baby.

Minutes later, we got to meet our baby. As soon as I caught a glimpse, I remember thinking that our baby, Alex, was so beautiful. I can honestly say that seeing our baby was the best decision we made. To this day I treasure the images and footprints captured by our midwife – they help me to feel close to him.

Since the loss of baby Alex, we have gone on to have two more beautiful children, a little boy called Conor and a little girl called Megan. We sadly suffered another miscarriage in-between their births, so we feel extremely lucky that we have the family that we have always longed for. We will always remember our angel baby, Alex, and he continues to be a big part of our lives.

1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss – and most parents never find out why due to a shocking lack of research. It doesn't have to be this way – and Tommy’s research is finding the answers. But research into pregnancy loss is currently seriously underfunded compared to other medical conditions.

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