Minya 30th December 1992 - Stillborn

Our family of girls, Minya is 1hr old, Ariana the CDH baby is the one on the end, never could sit still!

We had a baby girl. Actually, we had three. We didn't think we could top the experience we'd had with our third daughter, she was a diaphragmatic hernia baby & she is still spicing up our life as I write this, but we did top that experience with the ultimate experience. Our fourth baby girl was born silent & still just after Christmas, 1992.

It was such a thrill to be pregnant again, this time it was going to be right. After our third, I was determined to enjoy every single moment of this precious fourth. Child birth without a room full of doctors, breast feeding at will, getting up twice a night would seem a breeze after what we had lived through, I was so looking forward to being so normal it would be boring to the outsider!

Maybe that's why I didn't tell my hubby straight away that morning that I had woken from a nightmare. My hands had flown to my 37week swollen belly at the same time my eyes had opened. My baby! Will you move for me? You are just sleeping aren't you?

She didn't move all day even though I pushed & prodded my belly. I was reminding myself all day that I was being paranoid, but why didn't I have any sensation in my belly anymore? Walk & talk normal & all will right itself, won't it?

That night I told hubby. He could always get her to move by talking to her, she liked his voice. He talked but she didn't move. What to do, wake all the girls up to go to hospital to be told that I was being paranoid! How about we re-assess this in the morning. I stayed awake all night thinking & crying but trying my hardest not to.

Morning arrived, so why hadn't my baby moved? We packed up the kids & headed off to hospital. All the way I was watching the clock & thinking to myself, "This is a practice run for when you are in labour, see how long it takes to get to hospital."

A whole half day in hospital to be told what I really knew, my baby was dead. The girls where sheltered from the initial impact of the morning thanks to the nurses. All they remember to this day is mum seriously crying, getting biscuits & lemonade to their hearts content, TV & colouring in.

My doctor said I could stay in hospital & be induced or I could come back tomorrow, but no later than that, I may even go into labour that night! I couldn't get my head wrapped around my baby being dead yet alone giving birth in the same day, so I chose the next day. On the practical side, I had to get someone to be with the girls who could handle their tears too. I needed my mum.

What a phone call. Ring ring, ring ring, "Mum .... mum .....", she's on the other end panicking. "What is it, Joanne is that you?" "Mum ... (get a grip Joanne, you have to tell her, stop your sobbing long enough to tell her) "..... mum, my baby is dead." Silence, then "no, no,..... that's not right ..... ohhhh nnooo..." . "Can you come mum ...... I have to have her tomorrow." Mum, through her own sobs said she was on her way. Mum lived 9hours drive away.

We had told the girls, they cried with me. That is until that third daughter of ours launched herself off the chair I was on & followed strangers down & out the hospital doors! (I did mention something earlier about spice didn't I?)

Our fourth girl arrived, no room full of doctors. No rushing around nurses, not much noise. For the very first time out of four, I had my baby delivered straight up to my tummy. For the next 16 hours, the only time I didn't have her in my arms was when she was in the arms of hubby, or the girls, or my parents or my sister. I knew I had a very limited time with her & I would not waste one minute of it, not even to sleep.

She had an autopsy done. I visited her for the next three days. The nurses would dress her for me so I didn't have to see any scars. Leaving her every day was so hard, but the last time I saw her was the hardest. The pain, the numbness, the tears, the lack of weight in your arms, the weight of milk in the breasts, the very last touch.

Her funeral was the first funeral I had been to. The words that nearly express that experience are; mind shattering, bleeding heart, surreal, gut wrenching pain, too real.

Years have passed. I can now talk about our little girl & not spontaneously dissolve into a flood of tears. The bone weary depth of wisdom that has come about from the death of our baby has been of help to others, needing to know "what to do" for a friend in grief. I have lost but I have also gained. My perspective on life is now more focused. If I can come out the other side of grief after my baby died, I can do anything.

The autopsy report told us that they had no idea why she had died. Seems ironic that the baby that had all the woes in the world, every reason to die didn't, & the baby that had no reason to die did? I still cry for my dead baby, I still miss her so. I am better at choosing my crying times now, only occasionally does it creep up on me, but that's alright too.

Our baby girl was named Minya. She died on Dec 28th & was born on Dec 30th, 1992. She will forever be with me.