I was pregnant with our fourth child.
I loved our children but had suffered post natal depression quite severely with the third, and had three kids under five, the oldest with special needs. The fourth pregnancy was completely unexpected, but with time we became excited at the new life that was coming.
At 20 weeks I became very unwell and was admitted to A and E. I was in agony and wondered if my appendix was causing trouble. The doctor told me he needed to operate and I just wanted him to fix the pain! I awoke to be told that I had had a little boy, that he had died in surgery, and that I had to have a hysterectomy.
Our son’s placenta had grown like a cancer and had penetrated the wall of my uterus, and it had burst. I had lost four litres of blood.
To save my life, they had to cut off our son’s blood supply. Our son of 20 weeks gestation was tiny, but perfect in every way, and looked like our oldest son. The nursing staff dressed him in a gown and took photos for us, and we gave him a funeral and still visit his grave regularly as part of our healing process.
Why should we not? Why should he deserve any less as an acknowledgement of the value of his life? We are grateful to have had this little man in our lives, even if only for 20 weeks. God bless you, Luke.