"This is the hardest thing we have ever had to do as yesterday we said hello and goodbye to our beautiful little angel. Born at 27 weeks old at 20.37 on 12/9/18 our little Jay Eddy came into our world weighing 1lb 5oz. We always joked that there wasn’t enough room in the world for a 3rd Jeddy and having seen him he is far too beautiful to stay with us. Words cannot even describe how much love we have for our little man and even though we don’t have him for long he’ll be with us forever. The care that we’ve been given at the Royal Gwent is exceptional and we’ve had time to get to know our little soldier which is a blessing! We love you Jay Eddy with all of our hearts and we’ll carry you with us always 💙💙💙💙 love mummy & daddy xxxx"
I wondered how on earth to start these blog posts as it’s not something that is talked about enough, so I thought I’d re-share my post on Facebook when we announced it to our friends to start off with. Then I thought I’d share our story, just the basic outline. I’ve never written a blog post before, can you tell?
If you re-wind back to before it all happened you’d find just typical parents-to-be, worrying about what on earth we were getting ourselves into and the overwhelming excitement at what lay before us. I have to say the pregnancy was pretty easy really when you compare it to the stories of others. I fell pregnant straight after stopping contraception and had no morning sickness. There was nothing I really could complain about much aside from a bit of back pain and the ridiculously hot summer we had.
Every appointment with the midwife was fine, there were absolutely no abnormalities to report and all tests were clear. My blood pressure was normal, there was just no sign of what was to come.
The day we hit 24 weeks I was so giddy because in my head that was it, absolutely nothing could go wrong now apart from being early or late but the pregnancy was viable and so I thought I would have my baby and it would be all alright.
Nobody tells you that that’s not the case. Nobody tells you that horrific things can still happen and at 27 weeks we found that out the hard way. We had been to see some friends and had a trip to the zoo, nothing remotely strenuous or stressful. Our little boy had always been quiet at weekends and it had been no different on this particular Saturday. I had felt him do a little flip when we were in the car on the way to the zoo and then as per usual nothing for the rest of the day. Sunday rolled around and he was being particularly stubborn, or so I thought, as I could not get him to move at all. We tried all the tips and tricks and decided that enough was enough we needed to go and make sure he was ok.
He wasn’t. Our baby didn’t have a heartbeat. There was nothing we could do. Nothing can prepare you for that, nothing. The pain is unbearable. It is excruciating. It never stops.
Looking back now things are very blurry, information on what was going to happen next and support booklets being given to us, all haze into each other. Jamie became my focal point, I looked to him, I didn’t know what to do. We had to make decisions but I just wanted to stop time, to stop everything. The heartbreaking moment of telling our respective parents was something you never think you’ll have to do. Picking each other up after the calls is harrowing. The look of pain on Jamie’s face that I just desperately wanted to erase for him but couldn’t because I felt exactly the same.
We had to stay in hospital as at this point we found out that my blood pressure was scarily high and I was immediately monitored every 15 minutes and put on tablets to regulate it. A decision was made to give me the tablet that would bring on labour as they were worried about my blood pressure rising. So it began….I was bringing my baby into the world.
I gave birth to our little boy naturally on a Wednesday evening, 3 years to the day that we had got engaged. I’d seen enough tv episodes of a certain tv show to know what to expect but its the silence that is deafening when you bring a baby into the world that has already died. There is no crying, no rush to get the baby straight to skin. My experience was surreal, it was like it wasn’t happening, like I was looking down on this incredibly sad scene that I wasn’t involved in. Maybe that was the gas and air? Me being me, there was always going to be complications and so it soon became apparent that my placenta wasn’t detaching, which led to me having to go to theatre to have it manually removed. Another ordeal for us to face. We got through it, we had to.
We met our little man and named him Jay so that he would have a part of both of his parents with him always. He was perfect. He was beautiful. He was ours. It wasn’t fair.
We were lucky that we got to spend time with him and we can only thank the hospital staff at the Royal Gwent in Newport. They were amazing. They took photos for us and made a footprints and handprints card for us. They gave us the time we needed with Jay and gave us space to be together. We held him, we cried. We spoke to him, we cried. We showed him pictures of our dogs, we cried. We showed him videos of us dancing, we cried. We took photo after photo of our son so that we’d always have them to look back on.
We are determined to talk about him all the time, he will not be forgotten. He is a part of us. We are fundamentally changed. My son might not be here but I am still a mother.