Well the evening went well for me, I got to listen to Cathi’s presentation and then speak to the room along with several other bereaved parents. Last night I wrote out everything I wanted to say, and unfortunately I forgot that when I sit and really write about Devin and the emotional aspect of it I, uh, I get emotional. I choked up through the entire thing, which I never do anymore, not for a long time. But then again I don’t usually address a roomful of people about the little regrets I have about Devin. But I think I said what I needed to say.

Here’s what I wrote (what I said may not have been exact!). I questioned a few things, such as whether to mention the infertility. I did, because I felt that it was relevant in understanding the context of our loss.

::

My name is Natalie. My husband and I have had two losses after several years of infertility and IVF cycles.

Our son, Devin, our first child, was stillborn two and a half years ago at 35 weeks gestation. It was an easy, uncomplicated pregnancy. His movements had gotten slower and less frequent, but I thought that was normal at the end. I had no idea that a stillbirth was even possible in a healthy pregnancy. I wish someone had told me to do kick counts. At my scheduled appointment my Midwife couldn’t find a heartbeat, and an ultrasound confirmed his death. I chose to be induced immediately and gave birth later that same day.

That day is both one of my worst and most cherished memories. The labor and birth, if you could separate it from the grief, were what I had wanted for a live birth. I clung to that. I had given birth, I was a mother. It was one thing that went right that day, that gave me some kind of peace and pride in myself and my body.

My nurses and midwives were wonderful, patient and kind. One of the midwives sat with me for the entire morning. The hour between my ultrasound and my husband’s arrival was the most horrifying time of my life. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without someone holding my hand.

When Devin was born everyone in the room cried. It made me feel like he really mattered. He was treated gently and with respect. I was relieved that the nurse was looking after him while I slept. She took hand and footprints and gave us a birth “certificate”; things that were solid and real and proved he was here. But she didn’t get a lock of his hair, and we didn’t think of it at the time.

I was told I could hold him as long as I wanted to, but it felt strange to us. It never occurred to me to unwrap the blanket from him and look him over. I never saw his little his feet. I never even checked to make sure he was a boy. Looking back, I wish someone had told us it was okay. We were so concerned about what would seem “weird” or morbid.

We were given the outfit they had dressed him in, which was really a nice thought, but it was disappointing to me. It was something that I never would have chosen for him. I wish we had been given options, since we had nothing with us.

My biggest regret is the pictures. We had no camera with us. The nurse took some, which was a relief at the time. Unfortunately she not a photographer. The photos are blurry and there are very few of them. I could tell she took care, posing Devin with a little bear – it was just that the quality of the camera and lighting and focus were lacking. I had never heard of Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, and even if I had I doubt I would have thought of calling someone. I wish, more than anything, I had more than one good photo of my son.

Coming back for my post-natal check-up was extremely hard, and it was a huge relief that they pulled me straight into an exam room so I didn’t have to sit in the waiting room.

The doctor later called me himself with the autopsy results as soon as he got them. He sat down with my husband and I to explain everything in the report, which helped us find some closure and understanding.

My second loss was an ectopic last year, diagnosed at 6 weeks when I started having severe pain. I am grateful that my concerns were taken seriously, even though I felt like I was being paranoid. An ultrasound confirmed the ectopic and I had surgery later that day to remove my right tube.

To my husband and I the ectopic wasn’t the same as the loss of our son, but at the same time it was the loss of hope. It had been three years of trying to have a baby, and it was looking like we might never bring home a child. There was a lot of anger and disbelief. I remember laughing because it was just so unbelievable that I was going through another loss. I was glad everyone understood that I wasn’t crazy.

Now every time I have a doctor’s appointment I just hope they have glanced at my chart so I don’t have to explain everything all over again. I don’t mind talking about it, but it’s so much easier when someone already knows.