The next few posts will be hard to write, and hard for those reading them. But I feel a need to share, and hope that you will bear with me while I work through my thoughts.
It's Christmas Day, and my daughter is in the morgue. This will be something of a bombshell for many, who didn't even know I was pregnant... for which I apologise... but I have never been one to live out my pregnancy via social media. The plan was to post snuggly newborn photos in Feb, ideally accompanied by a glass of bubbly following my planned home birth. Unfortunately, no part of that plan has come to pass.
My daughter, Holly Rose, was born and died on 22nd December, weighing exactly 3lb (a very respectable weight for a baby born prematurely at 30 weeks). It's hard to believe that this time only a few days ago, I was having a "normal," though difficult, pregnancy, and planning a home-birth in February.
Then I was diagnosed with polyhydramnios on 21st December, and things escalated very quickly when it became clear that my baby was very unwell in the womb. Less than 24 hours after going to hospital for a routine scan, I had a caesarian-section to try and give her any chance at all, but she only lived for around 15 minutes.
She very probably had Edwards Syndrome. Nothing we could have done would have changed the outcome and she had a surprisingly peaceful and sensitive birth. She died in our arms listening to a recording of me singing to her. In these awful circumstances, it is the best outcome we could have hoped for.
Her condition was missed at scans and screenings, so we were blissfully unaware. I genuinely consider this to be a blessing, as we were spared some very difficult decisions, and nature took its course - there is nothing we could have done to change the outcome, and I do take comfort from that. We were also fortunate to spend those precious 15 minutes with her, and she was incredibly beautiful. Holly is amazingly perfect in so many ways. And yet very clearly so poorly in others.
My son is almost six (with his birthday coming up on New Year's Eve), and consequently, life must go on. We have stumbled through Christmas (including running out of petrol on the way home from Christmas Dinner... I mean, as if things could get any worse?!). I've managed to carry on almost as normal, though I am secretly haunted by the fact that it's Christmas Day, and my daughter is in the morgue. It's very hard to accept.
Things happened so, so quickly, it's very hard to get my head around these last few days. A lot of the time I feel fine...ish... although I also seem to be suffering some sort of brain fog/short-term memory loss, which I really hope isn't permanent! I don't really know whether I'm coming or going at the moment, I am just trying to plod on for my son.
We have to arrange her funeral ourselves, because she lived for those 15 minutes. It hasn't been possible to get hold of anyone over the Christmas period, so we are a bit in limbo. Likewise, we need to register her birth and death (and apparently have only five days in which to do so!) but this has also proved impossible due to the fact everything is closed. Ironically, we had actively avoided trying to conceive another Christmas baby... This is not how I planned to spend Christmas.
Above is a photo of my son, and my daughter Holly Rose, together. She may have only lived for 15 minutes, but she will forever be in our hearts.
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