1. YOUR LOSS STORIES

      		2.  WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU.TELL US YOUR OWN STORY AND IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEND US A PHOTO OF YOURSELF EITHER 200 X 200 PIXELS OR 400 X 400 PIXELS.WE WILL THEN SHARE YOUR PERSONAL EXPERIENCES WITH OTHERS.
        MISCARRIAGE & INFANT LOSS MEMORIAL BOOK EMAIL: rosenthalenglish@onetel.net.uk
        see awards and links pages for more info My baby 'Keiron' by Terri Stephenson
        In September 2003, 4 days before my 16th birthday, I had a molar pregnancy. I was told on the 9th of September, when i was 10 and a half weeks pregnant, that all that was inside me was the placenta and that all it looked like was "a bunch of grapes" as the doctors so kindly put it. I may have only been 15 but i was looking forward to that baby more than anything. I had all of the signs and symptoms of a 'normal' pregnancy but there was no actual baby inside of me. I was then told that i had a cyst on one of my ovaries and it would have to be removed. Hearing this at 15 was the hardest thing. I know i was still a child myself but hearing that and that i may never concieve again was just heartbreaking. I blamed myself for it all even though the doctors told me it was no-ones fault. I then started taking it out on my then boyfriend and couldn't cope anymore and we split. My baby 'Keiron' as i call him would have been 1 on the 1st of April this year and i know its silly as he wasnt born, he wasnt even there, i still shed a few tears. I'll alwaya think of him as my first child if i do have children. Thanks for letting me get it all out as i have never been able to before.
        Terri
        April 2005

         15th April 2005










        ANN`S STORY
        In May this year,(2003) I lost my 2nd baby. My husband Lee and I already have a 6 year old boy Matthew who is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and for the past 3 years we have said that we would love for him to have another play mate. At the time we agreed to try again, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes (insulin dependant). So we postponed the idea until I was able to control my diabetes and be in good health to conceive. November 2001 I became pregnant this was the best news I could have ever wished for, but due to the job I was doing at that time my diabetes wasn't perfect, it wasn't dreadful, but it could have been better, anyway at 6 weeks I miscarried but didn't become aware of this until I was 12 weeks and losing blood. It was bad enough going through that but then I had 18 months of being made to feel bad and guilty and being told in a round about way from the nurses at the diabetic clinic, that it was my own fault for me losing my baby. No matter what my husband or other family members said I was to blame.

        In February this year I found out I was pregnant again, this was fantastic, but I have never been so scared, I made sure that my diabetes was controlled it was, fingers crossed this would go ok. The I had a fall at work down a flight of stairs, at the time the only part of me that was hurt was my pride. I telephone my hospital and explained what happened and I was told not to panic, if I hadn't lost blood then it should be ok. I reiterated that I had already lost 1 baby and was scared that I had done some damage, but again I was made to feel like I shouldn't mither. I was 8 weeks pregnant and it was my first appointment at the diabetic booking in clinic. They recommended that I have a scan due to me being diabetic and due to losing 1 baby. At the scan they couldn't detect a heartbeat. I feel as if my whole world has collapsed, only my husband and my mum knew I was pregnant again, but neither of them know what to say, they just look and smile. I don't know what to say to my husband I feel as though I have let him down so much, that due to having diabetes and trying so hard to be treated as an equal at work rather than a woman with an illness I can't even be a proper wife to him.
        I have cried till I thought I couldn't cry anymore but the tears still come and normally at the most embarrassing moment. My son has school mass 2 weeks after I miscarried, as my husband isn't Catholic but is a better Christian than a lot of the Catholics that I actually know he came to church with us. Our son was doing the first reading, my pride was fit to burst, but as soon as he stood in the pulpit looked at me and smiled I burst into tears thankfully I didn't make any noise, but my husband just looked and couldn't tell if I was crying because I was proud or because I was hurting. Each mass I have to force myself to stay as I am ready to walk out during mass because all I feel is empty and I sob.

        I am not sure if I have lost my faith I hope I haven't as it has been there for me through everything but now I just feel empty. I would love to try to conceive again, but I am not sure if I could put my family through anymore pain.

        I don't know what answers I am looking for, if I am looking any. I just want to get through the day of wanting what others find it so easy to have.

        Thanks for listening to me talk to much, it's like my tears once I start I can't stop.

        Ann

        2nd July 2003

        Stephanie`s Loss Story
        I had only known Steve, my then boyfriend, for a few months, yet here I was 22 weeks pregnant with our first child. Somehow I always new it was a boy. I was at my house, where I lived with my parents, waiting for Steve to finish work and pick me up, to spend the weekend at his uncles house, where he lived, like we always did. I had started to feel a bit poorly, lightheaded, earlier that day when I was out shopping, but I wasnt worried. As Steve arrived we sat down and had a cuddle. I was still feeling a bit rough, and promised Steve I would go straight to bed when we got to his house. That night I started running a fever, and felt awful, shivery. The next morning Steve took me to the doctors. I had started getting stomach cramps. The doctor sat us down and we listened to my babys heart beating. Everything is fine we were told. Worse case scenario you have a water infection. I wasnt concerned that he didnt take a sample, I trusted him. He prescribed me some anti biotics and said if the pain got too bad, I should take a couple of paracetamol. We were relieved and we went back to Steves house. As the doctor had said the pain did get worse, so dutifully I took paracetamol, and tried to get some sleep. That night was horrendous. The pain was awful, but I had never had a water infection before. The next morning I could barely even stand up. Steve wanted me to go to the hospital so he called a cab, and I struggled down the stairs and out to the road to wait for the cab. By now the pain was so bad my legs buckled underneath me. Steve panicked and called an ambulance. By the time the ambulance arrived, just minutes later I was bleeding heavily. I still didnt know what was happening. The ambulance driver must have though because as soon as we arrived he asked if they wanted me to be taken straight to the labour ward. Steve was sent to book me in and while he was gone the pain was so bad I begged the doctors to kill me. I was taken to the labour ward and they gave me an ultrasound. The doctor said they could not see the baby, and that I was in labour. My heart first broke when Steve asked, in all innocense if the baby would be okay. The doctor explanined that the baby would not survive. I was given pethidine to alleviate the pain a little. I was hysterical. I refused to open my legs as I thought that if I didnt push then my baby wouldnt be born. Finally though I had to push and my son was born. Steve turned to me in tears and said you were right, he is a boy. We were given our son, wrapped in a blanket. He only weighed 320 grams, and was so tiny, but he looked so perfect. I remember feeling his skin, still warm, and holding his tiny hand, and remarking on his big feet, like his dads. We had a blessing service for him, though neither of us are particularly religious, it just seemed like the right thing to do. The whole time I just couldnt stop crying. We named him Ben Steven. Eventually we had to hand him over to be taken down to the mortuary. I couldnt bear to let go of him. I just wanted to hold him forever. Steve took him and gave him to one of the nurses.
        This was the hardest day of my life. 2 weeks later we had him cremated, and decided to keep his ashes with us, I even carried them in a small satin bag on my wedding day,. However we have since found out that some of his organs were retained during his post mortem examination, and so we are to have him finally laid to rest complete later this year. It has taken me a long time to come to terms with the loss of Ben, I will never get over it as losing a child is not anything you can ever get over. I have since gone on to have two more children, a daughter now 18 months and a son now 6 months, but Ben is still a part of our family and he always will be. I still miss him every day, and I can see him in our two children as they are growing up. It is hard for me not having him here, but as someone wise once told me, could you imagine heaven with no children?


        10th June 2003

        THERESA FORCES HOSPITAL POLICY CHANGES
        In July, 2001, my husband Jeff and I found out we were going to have another baby. Our little Matthew was nine months old at the time, and he would soon have a playmate! I was rather surprised at how easily I got pregnant this time, considering it took a year and half to get pregnant with Matthew. I knew it must be all a part of God’s plan.

        Days passed, and I was looking forward to my appointment for an early ultrasound. My doctor had told me I should always have an ultrasound early on to rule out ectopic pregnancy, since I had had endometriosis in the past. I went in when I was exactly six weeks along. The technician warned me not to be alarmed if she wouldn’t be able to find the heartbeat yet since it was still so early. Sure enough, my little baby’s heartbeat was not detected yet, but it measured at 5 weeks 6 days, very close to what was expected. The doctor had me come in one week later for reassurance in seeing the heartbeat.

        I went in exactly one week later, expecting everything to be right on track, especially since I was feeling a bit of morning sickness by this time. I was shocked to hear the technician say casually, "I’m concerned about the growth, and I’m not able to find the heartbeat, but we’ll magnify the image when the doctor comes in." I had a sinking feeling that I was about to be told something awful. When the doctor and technician looked more closely, they were able to measure a slow heartbeat of 86 beats per minute, and the baby had not grown since the last visit--still measuring 5weeks 6days. My doctor then informed me that I would most likely miscarry, but there was a small chance of the baby catching up in growth and heart rate.

        I went home that day, and decided to take my progesterone that I had been prescribed early on more consistently, in hopes that this may give my baby a fighting chance. Yet, at the same time, I knew my baby was probably dying, and felt the need to prepare myself, my family, and my tiny baby inside me for its likely death. I said a baptismal prayer for the baby and made the sign of the cross. I told my baby that it was okay to let go if that is what it needed to do.

        I went back for a third ultrasound at my eighth week of pregnancy. Again, my baby still showed no growth past 5 weeks 6 days of pregnancy, and, after looking for what seemed like eternity, a heartbeat was found that I was told to be too slow to be measured. I felt that this news was almost worse than if I had been told my baby had already died. What if taking the progesterone was forcing my baby to hang on when that was not what was meant to be? What was God’s will for this baby? How could I carry a dying baby, a baby that many people around me didn’t even know about yet since it was still early in my pregnancy, indefinitely? I felt so very far away from God.

        I went home, feeling stuck in a limbo between life and death. I am ashamed to say that the thought crossed my mind that I could understand where someone may feel it would be easier to just have an abortion when they know their baby will die anyway. I would never ever do this, I know, but, for a moment, I could relate to that desperation. I stopped taking the progesterone, since my doctor said it would not make a difference for the baby’s survival one way or the other, it would just possibly prolong the miscarriage from happening after the baby had died. A few days after the ultrasound I woke up with no more morning sickness, no more tiredness. I knew my baby had left me. Not physically, but spiritually. I felt empty, still carrying the remains of my tiny baby, yet not carrying its spirit.

        My doctor was going on vacation the following week, so she had me wait two more weeks to come in for another ultrasound. By my next appointment I would have been ten weeks pregnant. The technician seemed to know right away that my baby died. It measured the same as before--no more growth, no heartbeat, and the sac appeared to be collapsing. Yet, looking back, it seemed as if the diagnosis was made so quickly. The technician called the doctor in, explained the results that were found, the doctor glanced at the screen, instead of looking intently and carefully as she had done in the past, and confirmed that there was no heartbeat. She went on to explain what a d&c is. When I first was told that my baby may not make it, I immediately thought I would fight anyone who would try to convince me to have a d&c once the baby died. But by now, it seemed to be the only option. I hadn’t had any bleeding or other symptoms of the miscarriage happening on its own. My doctor also explained that if they didn’t take the baby's remains soon, it could result in an infection that would have serious consequences such as infertility, and could even cause a massive infection in me. I asked how long I could wait, and my doctor gave me one week before requiring a d&c.

        I went home feeling trapped and helpless. I prayed everyday that the Lord would guide me in this terrible journey, that His will be done, not mine. My husband and I belong to a natural family planning organization, so I thought I would try to contact a natural family planning doctor to get their opinion on if the d&c was really necessary. I also needed to be sure that the ultrasound was completely accurate in diagnosing miscarriage and detecting the absence of my baby’s heartbeat. I poured my heart out on one doctor’s answering machine, but he never called back. I tried calling another NFP doctor, but he wasn’t in that day. I felt abandoned by God when I needed Him to speak to me so badly. I then turned to my close friend who was in medical school at the time. I thought she may be able to give me good advice since we also share very similar values. She did agree that the d&c was necessary since she had been told that very serious complications could result from retaining a dead baby for a long period of time. She went on to explain that a d&c just cleans out the uterus, as if it really wasn’t a big deal. Trusting her opinion, I decided I should keep my appointment for the d&c for the following week.

        I dreaded each day that passed as I waited and hoped and prayed I would be spared from going through the d&c, and be able to deliver my tiny baby’s body at home. Monday came, and I knew that was not going to happen. I had an awful heavy feeling in me as my husband and I drove to the hospital. I knew this would be the worst day of my life. The nurse who dealt with me was rather cavalier and unsympathetic. I expressed some concern to her, wanting reassurance that the ultrasound was correct and there was absolutely no way my baby was still alive. She said yes, it sounded pretty certain from what I described that my baby had died. She asked if I would like to speak with a chaplain, but I declined, feeling as if it would not change anything. When getting things ready, the nurse tried making small talk by telling me all about how her husband could not stand kids. Not the most appropriate thing to say to someone experiencing the loss of their baby. I asked my doctor when she arrived to go over the ultrasound results once again. This was the first time I asked to see the picture of my baby. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t think to ask to see the screen in all my ultrasounds. My doctor went over the results matter-of-factly, conveying the feeling of wanting to move on with her day. I felt I had no choice but to go through with the d&c. I was given a mild sedative, so at the time it didn’t seem so bad. Looking back now, I feel as if I was deprived the opportunity to mourn my baby as it was being taken from me so violently. I was never given a chance to see what was left of it, or told that I had the option to bury my baby’s remains myself. I was given no miscarriage support resources or information. I felt like I was treated the same as if I had had an abortion.

        I went home still feeling relaxed from the drugs I had been given. It didn’t hit me until dinner time what I had been through. I broke down and cried, telling my husband that I would never be able to get over seeing my baby being taken from me in such a cruel manner. I felt betrayed by everyone--my doctor, who told me a d&c really isn’t an invasive procedure, my friend, who said it just "cleans out the uterus," the NFP doctor who never called me back--I could have been spared this awful day had he only taken two minutes to give his opinion to me. This day led to months of feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and anger. I felt deprived of being able to mourn my baby because I was so preoccupied with worry that my baby could have still been alive and I allowed them to kill it, or that I went against God’s will in some way. I felt so far away from God. I lived in darkness.

        At Christmastime I went to a communal penance at my church. I decided I needed to get my courage up to confess my feelings to the priest. In the confessional, I mentioned my worry that I could have harmed my baby since I trusted its life to just an ultrasound. Immediately the priest said, "absolutely not, your baby had died, you knew and the doctor knew. You could have gotten a disease if you hadn’t had the d&c. You’re not trying to kill yourself, are you?" Then I said, "but I feel like I had an abortion." He reminded me that an abortion is the killing of an innocent life, and my baby wasn’t there, it had already gone to heaven. As I sat in church thinking of what he said, tears came to my eyes in relief of this heavy burden that had been lifted. This day was a turning point for me. I truly felt God’s grace and healing that evening. I came home and said the rosary with the special children’s rosary I have in my baby’s memorial box, and felt peace. Christmas came one week later. I wrote in my journal that night to my little sweet pea in heaven. I asked my baby to pray for his family here on earth, and that we may be blessed with another child in our family. I asked him to tell Jesus happy birthday for me. One week later, on New Year’s Eve, I discovered to my great surprise, I WAS PREGNANT!! The Lord heard me, and answered a wonderful YES to my prayer.

        This pregnancy brought its own uncertainties when a large blood clot was discovered by the placenta. My baby was given a 50/50 chance of survival early in the pregnancy. I went for follow-up ultrasounds every two weeks, and each one brought more hope as the blood clot began to dissolve itself. I prayed each day through this difficult time that the Lord would keep His healing hand upon my baby. Where there was life, there was hope, and I had my hope and faith in Him. We finally were given a completely clean bill of health--myself and my baby--halfway through the pregnancy. I could finally relax, enjoy this time, and look forward to her birth.

        In late August, our dear Anna Maria was born. We chose the name Anna, since it means, "God’s blessing," or, "grace." It was through God’s grace that she was with us. Anna is also a form of Anne, who is the Blessed Virgin Mary’s mother. We knew she would be a good example for our little Anna throughout her life. We were truly blessed.

        Life seemed wonderful, being home with my two-year old and now newborn, also. Then, once Anna turned about six weeks old, I felt a strong surge of guilt and confusion once again about our baby that had died. Maybe I felt guilty being so happy. I’m not sure what exactly propelled me back into a state of darkness, but something felt unresolved, I felt I had more work to do for our little one in heaven.

        I then came upon Myke and Miriam Rosenthal’s website that is dedicated to memorializing babies who have died. My husband and I decided it was time to name our child we lost. We chose the name John Gabriel. I consider his birthday to be around the time he was conceived since he was never given a birthday like babies who survive. His life here on earth was confined to before birth, and it began when he was conceived. I found it fitting to name him after the saint whose feast day fell around that same time. I looked up in my saints book for the appropriate name to fit his special birthday. John the Baptist stood out to me, and fell on exactly the date I believe he was conceived. John was also my grandfather’s name, so it felt right. John Gabriel--I am his mother, and he is my child.

        I was proud to have given my child a name--giving him the acknowledgment and dignity he deserves. Yet this also intensified my feelings of loss. I thought back to the day at the hospital when his little body was taken from me. I wanted to know what was done with him, and where he was buried. I requested a copy of the pathology report, which stated that no fetal parts were found upon gross examination, but it didn’t state if it was found microscopically. What did all of this mean? I immediately called and asked to speak with the pathologist. I was alarmed when he told me that, since no fetal tissue was grossly identifiable, some samples were taken for testing and saved in paraffin blocks and slides, and the rest was incinerated with other medical waste! I could not believe what I was hearing. A year and a half earlier, a few days after the d&c, I called pathology at the hospital to make sure the remains from my miscarriage would be given a burial. I was told that yes, in fact, the remains would be picked up by a funeral home and buried in a cemetery. What had brought me comfort for the past year and half--that my baby’s remains were treated respectfully and buried, was a lie.

        I decided to inquire further into this issue, wanting to see the document that stated what exactly was done with all of the remains. I spoke with several different people who worked in pathology, and everyone gave me a different answer. This disturbed me greatly--why, did it seem, was there no record of how they disposed of the remains of my miscarriage? I spoke with the head of pathology, and she in turn sent me a letter stating that, "policies and procedures are for internal use only." Something seemed not right. I decided I needed to contact the State Department of Health to get answers. I was told I had a valid complaint, but it was suggested I first speak with the hospital’s patient representative and see if they would be willing to resolve this first, before filing a formal complaint. I tried this, and immediately received a call back from the same pathologist I spoke with earlier. He stated that he was disturbed I had called the health department wanting answers to questions about something that happened a year and a half ago. I explained the situation to him, that I was given false information by his department in the first place, and that I had a right to know what exactly had happened. He said that when I first called, shortly after the d&c, the person I spoke with assumed I was talking about identifiable fetal tissue--which does get sent for burial, since it is state law to respectfully dispose of (meaning burial or cremation) any identifiable fetal parts(i.e. cartilage, skeletal structure, etc) . Yet if that person had taken the time to look up my case, and would have seen there was no "grossly identifiable" fetal tissue, since my baby stopped developing very early in pregnancy, they could have told me it in fact would not be buried, but incinerated, and I would have been given the opportunity to pick up the remains from them myself and arrange for a burial. They deprived my family, including this child, of its right to a proper and respectful burial.

        Speaking as a mother who has two living children and one who has died, it makes no difference the size of that child, whether it was twenty inches at its time of death or one centimeter. It is still just as much my child. As I spoke with the pathologist, he came to realize my concerns. I really was just calling to get a copy of the document stating what had been done with the remains. Instead, to my amazement, he offered to release all of the remaining tissue the lab had saved as samples from my miscarriage to me. Although he refused to release the slides, which are small samples made from the larger paraffin blocks of tissue, he did agree to release the paraffin blocks, which is the bulk of what they still had. Although he did not see fetal tissue in the slides, he said that there was a chance there was some in the paraffin blocks that was not seen. Disturbing as it is, hospital pathology does not look closely for fetal remains when examining what is left from a miscarriage, only for abnormalities.

        I was relieved to be given the chance to give this child a dignified burial of what was left. I had been in touch with a woman who has a pregnancy loss ministry at a nearby catholic church, and she offered her parish’s services to our family, since the church also had its own cemetery, and even a special area for babies that die before birth. They provided a very small casket, as well as a short graveside service with the priest. I felt the Lord heard my prayers, and knew my sorrow--I had always wished I had a place to go to remember this child. I had felt as if the opportunity for fully acknowledging this baby’s life and death had passed, and no one seemed to care. Although I still felt angry that any of the remains were treated like waste and incinerated, I was so very grateful that my family has been given the gift of burying the remains that still existed. I wrapped the remains in a small piece of baby blanket, and put some prayer cards in the casket, too. My husband suggested we also include a picture of our family, which we did, as well as the blessed children’s rosary that I had kept in baby John’s memorial box. What was left of John’s remains were buried respectfully and peacefully, as he deserved. God’s grace at work once again.

        Was this why these feelings had come back? Was it because I needed to give this child a burial as he deserved? Was this all I needed to do to find complete closure? I didn’t feel at peace yet. I knew I could do more. If I didn’t, who would? Because of what I had gone through, I recognized the need for change--at the clinic where my miscarriage was diagnosed, and also at the hospital. The day surgery center at the hospital--where moms go who are in need of a d&c due to miscarriage--seemed to be a good place to start. I was given nothing when I was there as a patient, nobody acknowledged our child or our loss. I decided to make memorial kits to donate. I started by sewing quilted pouches, and filled them with pregnancy loss support group contacts, grief education, as well as suggestions for memorializing one’s baby, and information on parents’ legal rights to their baby’s remains. I also included some poems that I found meaningful. I brought these to the hospital, in hopes of giving families comfort and acknowledgment of their loss.

        I then thought it may be helpful to write a letter to my clinic, suggesting that they begin sensitivity training for their staff, and also obtain resources to give to families who experience pregnancy loss. I included a sample of my memorial kit contents, and offered to donate anything that may be needed. I received a letter back from the clinic’s medical director stating that they will indeed begin to educate their staff more fully, and they would ensure that they will find the proper resources--educational material and support--to supply to families who come to them in their time of loss.

        Although I felt some relief in that my clinic acknowledged their neglect and insensitivity in dealing with the loss of my little John, I still had strong feelings of anger and resentment toward the hospital, who I felt treated me as if I had an abortion. I did take into account that the pathologist was sensitive in releasing what was left of John’s remains, yet I knew that hospital policies and procedures needed to change, so no families would slip through the cracks again, as mine did. I could be silent about it no longer.

        I sat down one night and wrote a long letter to several hospital administrators, including the president, vice president, the heads of day surgery and pathology, as well as the medical director. I wrote a detailed, lengthy letter, feeling better and better as I typed, wanting everyone to be aware of every detail, of every little thing they did or neglected to do that hurt me and my family. I wanted them to take responsibility for depriving me of my legal right to my deceased baby, for taking from me the opportunity to bury my baby in full. I wanted them to acknowledge the loss of my child. I also included suggestions for change. I especially urged the hospital administration to adopt a policy of saving and sending for burial all remains from any pregnancy loss, whether the baby’s tissue is "grossly identifiable" or not. I requested the hospital to implement a system where families are given a consent form on the day they arrive at the hospital explaining their rights and options to their baby’s remains. I went on to explain the poor treatment I received from the nurse, and asked that they give all staff who deal with families experiencing pregnancy loss sensitivity training. Finally, intimidating as it was, I requested a meeting with everyone I sent this letter to, informing them that I wanted to hear what they are doing now to prevent such mistreatment from happening again in the future. I needed to see change.

        Only a couple days after sending my letter, I received a call from the hospital’s patient representative who said she could set up a meeting if I would like, but wanted me to speak with their pregnancy loss coordinator first to see if she could answer some questions. Curious to see what she had to say, I agreed. This coordinator in turn contacted me, and explained the changes that had recently taken place. There is now a parental consent form that is given to families, explaining their options for burial--whether they want their own burial, or request the hospital to handle it. Parents also have the option of only having a gross examination performed on their baby’s remains, not microscopic, so that no samples are required to be kept by the hospital, and the remains can be buried in full. I was relieved to hear that they are recognizing the need for informed consent, giving parents ultimate rights to their baby’s remains. She also explained that all nurse managers of every department that deals with families who lose babies before birth will meet to organize training for their staff in order to provide better care and service to such families. She then went on to tell me that, because of my letter, the head of pathology is now in the process of drafting a new policy that she will present to the medical board for final approval stating that all miscarriage remains will be required to be sent for burial if the parents choose not to claim them for their own burial. The hospital I attended is one of several within a system of hospitals. The pregnancy loss coordinator informed me that this policy will begin at the hospital I was at, and in time will most likely be adopted at all hospitals within the system.

        This was what I was fighting for--I so badly wanted the hospital to acknowledge and respect those babies who had died, as well as the families left behind. I knew that if this policy could be put in place, even if families in the midst of their grief could not choose to bury their baby, it would still be done.

        Through this struggle, I have felt intimidated, scared, and even doubted myself. I figured the administrators at this hospital must think I am crazy since I had bothered them so much. But now, I see. God has guided me all along, gently, firmly. Maybe this is my answer. My baby John’s life--and death--has made a difference. Many babies that die so very early will now be buried instead of discarded as waste, they will be acknowledged and respected, because of my little John Gabriel.

        I am not done yet, though. The pregnancy loss coordinator at the hospital has asked me to write a letter to the editor of the hospital system’s newsletter about my experience, and the changes taking place because of it. She thought this may be a good way for hospital employees and others within the system to take notice of changes that are taking place, and that still need to happen. I also plan to write a letter to the Minnesota State Department of Health, requesting that public health policies be developed that would regulate and oversee how all hospitals handle remains of babies that die before birth, especially early in pregnancy, when it gets overlooked so easily. There is still work to do, but there is hope!

        This has been a long journey, one that continues. But I know God is working through me. I know the importance of respecting all life, no matter how tiny, no matter how brief.
        As it states in Psalm 139:13-16:
        "You created every part of me;
        you put me together in my mother’s womb.
        I praise you because you are to be feared;
        all you do is strange and wonderful.
        I know it with all my heart.
        When my bones were being formed,
        carefully put together in my mother’s womb,
        when I was growing there in secret,
        you knew that I was there--
        you saw me before I was born.
        The days allotted to me
        had all been recorded in your book,
        before any of them ever began."

        23RD MAY 2003

        Valerie Bush`s story about Joshua Michael.
        I would like to share my recent loss with you.

        I lost my son, Joshua Michael, on April 11th, 2003, after only getting 5 precious days with him. I was pushing during a normal, uneventful delivery and suddenly the doctor lost his heart rate. He did an emergency c-section and Joshua was taken to the NICU where he was revived and appeared to be doing well. After doing some tests, they found that he had no brain activity because a kink in the cord had cut off his oxygen supply for too long during delivery. We got to spend five precious days with Joshua in the NICU before his little organs started to fail and he slipped away from us. The hospital allowed us to keep every blanket and item that had touched him. Those and the over 300 pictures we took over those five days have become our most cherished possessions.

        I think of Joshua all the time. I have gone through so many different emotions since we lost him. Sometimes it makes me smile to think of him and sometimes I cry because I miss him so much. I believe he is in heaven and that brings me great comfort to know he is happy and safe but sometimes I just want him here so badly. If anyone is interested, a friend of mine gave me a great book called, "Mommy, Please Don't Cry." Of course, I cried through the entire book but felt such comfort after I finished reading it. I now have read it several times. It is a book written about heaven through a baby's eyes.

        I plan on trying to conceive again starting in July. My doctor has said I need to wait three months to heal from the c-section. I also need some time for emotional healing. Nothing will ever replace Joshua. He will always be my first born child, a big brother to our future children, but my husband and I have so much love to give we are ready to have more children to give that love to. Not to mention a complete nursery and closet full of Dreft washed clothing and every baby accessory on the market. We have decided we want to keep every item for our next child because we spent so much time and care picking out every single thing that we can't bear getting rid of it to get something different. My doctor and I have discussed it and my next delivery will be a scheduled c-section both because I already had one and also, for my own state of mind I have requested one. I feel very lucky that I have a very supportive doctor throughout this. He is willing to do whatever it takes to help me and my husband get through this and move forward with our next pregnancy.

        We try to look for the positives that have come out of our situation though sometimes it is hard to see through the pain. My husband, John, and I have grown closer than we ever thought married couples could be. We have reached a level in our relationship we didn't even know was possible. We have also learned so much about life and grown closer in our faith. Our families have also gained these things through us though I don't believe to the degree that we have. I think we will also be much different parents to our future children than we would have been without this experience. Of course, I wish Joshua was here every second but nothing I can say or do will ever bring him back so it is important to me to try to focus on these positive things I can gain from the experience and someday I know I will join him again for eternity in heaven.

        I want to thank you all for allowing me to share my story and my thoughts and feelings.
        13th May 2003

        ANNE COLLIGAN SHARES HER STORY
        At the age of 23 I was diagnosed with endometriosis and told that I
        would probably never have any children, or if I did it would take me
        years. I underwent treatment for 5 years, which stopped in May 1995,
        and at the age of 28 married a wonderful man in July of the same
        year. You can imagine my surprise when I was six weeks married and
        discovered I was six weeks pregnant. We were over the moon. I gave
        birth to a daughter, by ceserean section due to the fact that she was
        breach, in April 1996. She is now seven years old and a healthy happy
        child. For those of you who do not know what endometriosis is, it is
        a disease of the womb, which causes severe period pain and can cause
        infertility. A cure for this is preganancy, therefore you are in a
        catch 22 situation.

        I was lucky, in that, my pregnancy cured my endomertiosis.

        By the time my daughter reached the age of three we decided it was
        time to try again. Unfortunately the endometriosis had returned and,
        after two years of trying I sought help from my GP.

        I was refered back to my gyn doctor who, over the last two years, has
        performed two surgical proceedures and placed me on different hormone
        treatments to try to improve my chances of conceiving a child.

        I had set myself a date to stop trying for another child. I decided
        that if I had not become pregnant by the time I was 36 I would give
        up trying. My husband and I agreed that this was a sensible approach
        to take, otherwise, it could take over our lives. I was desperate to
        have another child and my daughter was desperate for a brother or
        sister.

        I was due to turn 36 n 7 April 2003. To my delight I discovered that
        I was pregnant on 15 March 2003. I could not believe how lucky I was.
        I had the pregnancy confirmed on 22 March 2003. Within a week I was
        experiencing cramping. I tried to see my GP, but was told that this
        sometimes happens in the early stages and I should only worry if
        bleeding starts. I contacted my gynecologist and was told to come for
        a scan. Unfortunately it was too early to tell if all was ok and I
        had to return a week later. At approximately 6 weeks a heartbeat was
        found and I was the happiest woman in the world.

        A few days later I started to bleed and a further scan was done and
        all seemed to be well. I think they thought I was a bit of a nutter
        as I kept phoning and asking questions about the pains and bleeding I
        had. A week later the bleeding continued and it was much worse. I
        phoned the clinic and was told to come up straight away. They told me
        no heartbeat was found on the ultrasound and I was having a
        miscarriage.

        Because of the problems I already had it was advisable to have the
        evacuation procedure carried out. This was done on the 10th of April
        2003.

        My daughter's birthday is 12 April and I was not able to take her out
        with her friends that day, as I was still recovering from the
        procedure. She does not know about her brother or sister who should
        have been, but I will tell her when she is older, and can understand
        what it all means.

        My husband had picked names for the baby, Michael Joseph for a boy
        and Ruth for a girl. I hope that one day I will conceive again, but
        find it difficult to believe.

        I pray to God everyday for my baby who should have been, and ask
        forgiveness for anything that I might have done to cause the
        miscarriage.

        I pray for all of you who have suffered far more than I. Reading your
        stories has made me realise how lucky I am to have what I have. My
        daughter is my gift from God and I am grateful everyday that she is
        here.

        Thank you all for your stories which are a great support. I wish you
        all good health and happiness in the future.

        May God bless you all

        Anne

        10TH MAY 2003

        ANGELA WILLIAMS SHARES HER STORY
        My name is Angela Williams, I am a 31 year old mother of three, I just suffered a big loss, the loss of my unborn baby, I was 16 weeks pregnant, and I went to see my doctor for a 2 week check up, and I was told the worst news ever, that my babys heart had stopped beating, they did two ultra sounds to confirm that my baby had died, my husband and I made funeral arrangements for our baby, we went into the hospital the next day, to deliver our baby, we didn't even know what sex the baby was, we had chose a name out for either a girl or boy, I delivered a 3 oz and 6 1/2 inch long baby boy, he had all of his body, he was just very small, we named him Blaine Michael Williams, he was a beautiful little angel, we cried and cried, our baby died because of the umbilico cord was wrapped around his whole body, and his neck, I was sent home the same day that I had my baby, with just some papers talking about grieving, but wasn't offered any counciling or anything! we had a grave ! side funeral for our son, and I havent been the same since, I am a different person now, a grieving mother, its been 5 weeks since his birth/death and I cry every day, I go to the cemetery to sit where he was burried, I know hes not there, but its a quiet place, and i talk to him, I tell him how much hes loved and how he was so wanted and we miss him, I have a hard time sleeping at night, because I have nightmares all over, what happend, I just want to know if this pain of not having my baby boy in my arms will ever go away? I know that Blaine is in heaven, and hes watching me, I feel that hes being rocked in Gods arms now
        thank you for reading my story
        Angela Williams

        23rd April 2003

        LORRAINE CROSLAND SHARES HER STORY
        This is my story that I would like tos hare with everyone firstly to make
        people know that they are not on their own and to try and make myself comes
        to terms with it a little.

        The only thing that I have ever wanted is a baby so after getting married in
        June 1995 we decided to try for a baby something we both craved for, in
        August something made me go to the doctors as I had missed my period and
        felt very strange inside. On arriving at my doctors on the Monday and
        informing him of the situation he said that he would get me have a blood
        test/urine test & a Scan on the Wednesday all three of these came back
        NEGATIVE, something was wrong but the doctor just thought that because it
        was what we wanted so much sometimes you can imagine that you are pregant
        and you are not and that is what he thought was happening to me.

        I left the doctors not feleling happy about this at all so I made another
        appointment for the next day luckily enough and I explained that I was not
        happy about the weight that I was putting on and the feeling that I was
        having, he basically again though I was exagerating but finally said to me
        ok well I can see you are worried about it and I told him that he did not
        understand but that I WAS pregnant, he said if I could make another
        apointment for the next Monday and he would see about getting me to hospital
        for some tests.

        The next day I went to work as usual feeling very tired exausted and strange
        really but like another other day I have had over the past few weeks.
        Finished work at around 4:45pm and driving home in sleet and snow at the end
        of August and all of a sudden I felt quite faint/hot/and very strange like I
        was not longer there. I had to open all the windows in my car luckily
        enough I had automatic windows and still felt very hot as you can imagine
        people were looking at me with my windows open with how bad the weather was.
        When I eventually arrived home about 10 minutes later I could hardly get out
        of my car in so much pain in my stomach and I thought that because I had not
        felt to well and that I had not been on my period for 2 months that it was
        starting now but as the pain grew worse and worse and after 2 hours my
        husband phoned the doctor who immediately said that I had a pedicitus, but I
        kept coming in and out of consiousness and every breath sent thunders of
        pain through my body and I seriously thought that I was dying.

        Eventually I was rushed of to hospital and could not remember a thing until
        I woke up 4 days later being informed by my husband that I had had a
        ruptured ectopic pregnancy with twins and that the surgeon had had to remove
        1 tube which left me with a scar from one side of my stomach to the other
        and I was in hospital for 2 weeks. I was informed later by my specialist
        that I would be able to have a child but it would be more diufficult and I
        would only have around a 40% chance. After trying for over a year
        afterwards I fell pregnant and luckily enough gave birth to a beautiful baby
        boy 7lb 10oz on October 8th 1998.

        In 2002 myself and my husband decided we would like another child so that is
        what we were going to try and do on September 11th 2002 I was 11 weeks 6
        days pregnant and felt absolutely fine as I had for the time before and
        started to bleed offensively had to be rushed into hospital and I had caught
        and infection which had caused them to have no choice but to remove the
        baby, this was devastating I thought that it was all happening again.

        I only had to spend 1 day in hospital but 6 weeks of work afterwards to try
        and get back to normal, how marl they expected me to be able to get after
        that I dont know.

        The doctors told me that I could wait for 1 normal period then they felt
        there was no need for us to wait to try and conceive again so that is what
        we did. Boxing day 2002 I was 11 weeks and started spotting a little after
        having allot of rest no stress generally I was hardly doing a thing. My
        doctor suggested that I go for an early scan in the morning and I would have
        to pick a note up from him at the surgery. The next day arrived I was still
        spotting a little bit and trying not to get stressed or worried because I
        knew that that would not help my situation, we arrived at the doctors and
        all of a sudden I felt this urge to go to the toilet, rushed of and the
        blood was just pooring out with big clots, I was again rushed to hospital as
        a suspected ectopic was thought and once arriving at the hospital I had to
        have numerous internal examinations which did not make me feel too great,
        they wanted me to stay in and hopefully over the next couple of days I would
        pass the featus and other things, well I dont know how many people have had
        to do this, but just lying in hospital and every time you want to go to the
        toilet having to inspect it to see if your baby has come out or not is the
        worst thing ever.

        After 2 days I was getting very depressed and in allot of pain that they
        decided to take me down to theatre to perform a D&C and take the remainding
        items out.

        I am at the moment awaiting for tissue results to come back from the lab to
        see if there is anything wrong with my remainding tube (fingers crossed not)
        if not I want to wait for 3 months and try again.

        The thing is that I could be watching tv and suddenly think how can I sit
        here and watch this when I have not thought about the baby in around 10-15
        minutes and I feel like screaming and pulling all my hair out or trash the
        house. This is 2 weeks afterwards. I think because I have had 2
        miscarriages in 5 months that they have both come together. I try to put on
        a front for my husband and friends because I am not the emotional type, I am
        always there for others as a mother sort of a person and for me to breakdown
        etc I dont know how people would take it I am always thinking would they
        laugh at me, would they tell me to grow up WHAT??

        I am due to go back to work Monday 13th January and I am not looking forward
        to it at all.

        I feel so empty and alone inside and it is a horrible feeling. Somedays I
        just want to curl up and dye. I have a couple of friends who have been
        absolutely brilliant to me but sometimes I need a hug and to be told that I
        am not being stupid and silly and I am only human.

        God please give love to my babies that I never ever met or had chance to
        hold and tell them that I did love them for the time they were with me
        inside and not a day goes by without me thinking about them all.

        Love Mum Lorraine Always

        xx

        16TH JANUARY 2003

        "MY STORY" by LISA CRIDER
        My 16 WEEK checkup was on Valentines Day.I was excited to go to the appointment because I couldn`t wait to hear the baby`s heartbeat.When I got there,they were really busy so I sat in the waiting room for ever.I finally go in,and after a few minutes of checking,he couldn`t find the heartbeat.


        Now,my doctor has a way of talking which convinces you of what he`s saying.Normally,I`m one who never worries unless given a reason.So when he said the baby wasn`t cooperating ,was turned around,I believed him.He asked if I wanted to wait and we`d go into the other room for an ultrasound,if I wanted.He didn`t insist so I still wasn`t going crazy yet or anything.I had my "real" ultrasound scheduled for the next week,and he was willing to wait until then,but I wasn`t.


        So I waited until the other room got empty,and we went and he gave me an ultrasound.He still couldn`t find the heartbeat.I saw the screen the whole time,I saw her(I believe it`s her,can`t know for sure).I thought I saw it once,he did too,but it was fleeting.Then he told me that he wasn`t sure,that he wasn`t the ultrasound expert,and if I wanted I could wait until next week until my appointment,or he could get me in at the hospital the next day for an ultrasound with an "expert."


        Of course I went the next day,but at this point I still wasn`t loosing my mind.I stupidly didn`t even make my husband go with me.After having the US,I had to sit back in the waiting room.Then the tech came out and told me to stop by my doc office on the way home so he could exam me again.I called the doc office on my cell on the way there,and the nurse told me,yes,stop by,he wanted to talk to me.


        When she said that I knew I was in trouble,and cried the rest of the way there,which took about 5 minutes.I tried not to panic.I went in sat down,tried not to cry in the waiting room.I wasn`t sitting there for more than two minutes when they called me.My appointment the day before lasted 2.5 hours.When she called me I started crying,I knew there was only one reason to get me out of the waiting room so fast.



        He came in and confirmed that there was no heartbeat,that she had stopped growing 2-3 weeks earlier,at 13-14 weeks.Then he asked if I wanted to wait to see what my body would do,or if I wanted to take care of it right away.I said I`d wait.So he told me to come back on Tuesday if nothing happened in the next 3 days.


        So Tuesday I went in and he inserted something that would dilate me,and gauze to hold it in place.On Wednesday,the 20th,the day of my ultrasound appointment,I went in to be induced.The front desk messed up and sent me to the PERINATAL ultrasound department.I totally lost it then.But the woman there was so nice she walked me all the way back up to my room.


        The doc came in removed the DILATER and gauze.Now by this time I was emotionally and physically exhausted.Just lying there hurt.Every ounce of me hurt.He had to go in four times to remove everything.Then to have my cervix induced,he came every four hours to insert this pill that dissolves to a gel.Plus I was checked once or twice.Every time he touched me I felt like he was ripping me to pieces.


        This lasted all day on Wednesday.I kept getting shots for pain,and nausea,because of the pills,and they drew blood twice(because she botched the first one).In the meantime,I could hear the babies crying down the hall.It really was torture.


        At 0430hrs Thursday morning,and yes,I was awake,I got another shot to induce me.The pills didn`t work,but neither did this shot.The only thing the shot did was MAKE me vomit violently(not that I had anything in me).That was the last shot at delivering normally.When he came in at 8a.m.to check me,it hurt so bad that I screamed at him to stop.I just couldn`t take anymore of anything.



        He said he`d be back,and the nurse who was there the day before when I checked in,said she was going to talk to him,that he needed to do something.2.5 hours later I was knocked out,and he gave me a D & C.If I could`ve delivered,I would`ve gotten to see her,would`ve had pictures,would`ve had something more than I do.So don`t feel guilty that you mentioned yours,I`m glad that you have them.


        Once I woke up,all the physical pain that I had was gone.My throat hurt,because I had a tube down it while out,but I went from barely being able to move,to it all being gone.It was so weird.It made me feel guilty.My heartwas still in a thousand pieces,and still is,but my body didn`t hurt like it had just 90 minutes earlier.



        Leaving the hospital empty handed the next day hurt so much.It was not supposed to be that way.It`s been 6weeks since Valentine`s Day,5 weeks since she`s been gone from my body.I`ve cried oceans of tears.I think about her everyday.I haven`t been ablto sleep without dreams of PG.,heartbeats,ultrasounds and babies.



        Some days I can`t find the strength to do anything,just wait for the day to be over.Other days I`m filled with this nervous energy and I don`t know what to do with myself.It was on one of these days that I started running.I haven`t run for 10 years,but I ran 2 miles that day.I started out wanting my body to hurt as much as I did(of course I didn`t come close).Now I continue to run because it seems to be a bit therapeutic.I usually run after dark,THEN no one can see me cry.


        As time has gone by,one thing that really hurts is that people expect you to be "over it."I will NEVER be "over it."She was my baby.One that I had waited FOR a long time.ONE THAT WOULD HAVE GIVEN MY SON THE CHANCE TO BE A BIG BROTHER.I haven`t made it to the acceptance stage yet.Part ofme died when sh did,an I don`t know how to get back to where I WAS.I will love and miss her forever.


        IN MEMORY OF OLIVIA ROSE,TAKEN ALL TO SOON


        LOVE MOMMA



        LISA CRIDER



        MARCH 2002.
        01 APRIL 2002

        Angela Jones of Fiskerton,Lincoln,UK
        In 1982,i fell with my first child but miscarried 10 weeks later.i had no idea about the sex of my child until I went to the New Dawn Conference in 1977 where I experienced a lovely encounter with the Holy Spirit.
        It was on the 4th day of the conference I attended morning mass.during Mass I had a vision.I saw an oak tree.The tree split in half and the branches resembled fingers.The two halves of the tree came together and formed the shape of hands coming together in prayer.
        That afternoon we had a choice of which workshop we would like to attend,The family Treeand it was only to be listed once that week.I felt the Holy Spirit was guiding me>When I got to the chapel I was told to write down a list of my loved ones who had died.During the Mass I was pondering the sex of my child and in my mind I saw Our Lady carrying Jesus nd then I saw the colour blue.I thought to myself I am going to call him Peter.Then another thought "upon this rock I will build my church".I then watched a man walk up to the altar to say a reading.I heard him say "Your name is Peter and upon this rock I will build my church"I was God-Smacked.
        The next morning I asked some friends of mine if they would be Peter`s God Parents,we held a baptism service.
        God has given me a very special memory which I felt I would like to share with you.
        God bless you for your lovely idea I think your remembering the babies book is wonderful.
        I have a niece called Karen .She had a miscarriage last year(2001)Her baby`s name is Jo Towers.Would you please list her baby`s name in your book.(In Memorial Book 2)

        29th January 2002

        NEW SPECIAL CARE WING THANKS TO "BARBIE"
        Plucky American mother Barbara Barry was so horified by the way she was treated in her local American hospital when she had a miscarriage lately she decided to do something about it.
        Barbara of Hull,Massachusetts,U.S.A. decided to make a formal complaint to the top brass of the hospital.Instead of brushing her complaints under the carpet the hospital management decided to give "Barbie " her chance to help them to understand the needs of those who lost their babies through miscarriage,stillbirth,neonatal death and ectopic pregnancy.
        This courageous mother of 4 living children decided to ask other mothers and fathers for their experiences.The information just poured in from every corner of the globe.Australia,UK,Singapore,Canada were all represented in her final presentation to the hospital hierachy.Some of the points seemed to be constantly coming forward. These included staff not being trained properly to understand the grief and trauma of losing a child during pregnancy.The insensitivity of some hospitals who put those losing their babies through natural causes and grieving next to those who want to abort their babies.Lack of privacy and keeping parents informed as to what is going on when they are waiting for operations.Fathers being totally ignored as if they have no feelings and arent to be acknowledged.Babies not beeing buried properly.Not enough information given to the parents about options for burying the baby.Many parents upset that their baby is taken away from them for autopsy/postmortum without their permission.Lack of sympathy and understanding from nursing and medical staff.
        Barbara took a couple of weeks compilling her dosier and finaly presented it to the Hospital for their perusal Tuesday December 11th 2001.We pray that her hard work and determination will at least make one hospital in this world change their policy and treatment and policy towards those who already have so much to suffer with the lose of their baby.They have promised Barbie that they will be opening a special care wing in June and that they will have no problem staffing it!Apparently many staff have suffered the same experience!The pregnancy Loss Co-ordinator at the hospital concerned asked Barbie if she would be willing to speak to a panel to get final approval.Barbie told us exclusively "Of course I would be willing.This is what I have been working towards,I thank all those who gave me their personal experiences to enable me to confront the hospital authorities". Hopefully what happens in one hospital today will spread throughout America and all other countries that profess to be caring and understanding.Well done "Barbie".Lets hope you have really started something

        14th December 2000

        GERRY`S STORY
        "Hi

        I don't really know who else to turn to
        I saw your site and thought it may help.

        My story is different from the others in that I am male.
        It is kinda hard to know where to start, maybe with this it is best to
        start at the end.

        My beautiful wife is in the process of getting ready to leave me
        the pain of this is almost unbearable, but I can't blame her

        we have now lost 2 angels through miscariage in less than 2 years
        it is only now that I understand the hurt this caused Lorna, at the time
        I was of little support to her when she needed me most, I loved her so much
        that I could not bear to see her sad & so i acted as if nothing had happened,

        I thought that if we brushed things under the carpet and tried again
        the hurt would not exist a