Trigger warning: miscarriage, infant loss
Update
Hi guys! It’s been a while, I know. Lots going on here at the grove, although mostly personal, not so much the house. I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of September, which was awesome of course! The first ultrasound was great, we saw a heartbeat, but I felt it was too small. Because of my history with Fynn having no heartbeat at 38+1, I was apprehensive to get too attached. But at around 11 weeks, I was getting more excited. Also because of Fynn, I was referred to the care of the gynaecologist and at our first appointment there it turned out the heartbeat had stopped. This was around the end of October.
So then you get a choice to wait until the pregnancy terminates on its own, or you can get medication to help terminate it. I took that last option and took the medication during the weekend, after which the embryo passed the following Wednesday. We buried it under Fynn’s place in the garden. A spot where we planted a Helleborus or winter rose, spread some of Fynn’s ashes, and placed a little light.
Dealing with this loss
I did take some time to come to terms with this loss, and yeah it was sad. But I did feel it was better this way. In a way, I was glad that the heartbeat had stopped on its own and we didn’t have to make a difficult decision when finding out there was something wrong with the baby. Compared to Fynn, his loss was harder to come to terms with. Because he was fully grown, nothing wrong with him, perfect in every way. No real explanation, probably a chord accident which was wrapped around his neck very tightly.
And then it was November. And I started to remember last year. When at the middle of November I went on maternity leave, feeling joyous. Getting the last things ready for Fynn’s arrival. Not knowing how it would end. Not knowing that I would be getting the last of the shopping on Friday December 4th 2020, some formula, and getting the news at the end of the day, that it would no longer be necessary. So let me tell you Fynn’s story.
Fynn not moving
You see, at around half past 1 in the afternoon I realized that Fynn hadn’t moved in a while. I couldn’t even remember when the last time had been. I called the hospital and they asked me if I felt like he was moving less or not at all. And I said, not at all, suddenly realizing this. They told me to come in to check everything out. I was home alone at that time because Pat was working, he would be due to clock out at 2 pm. By the time I got off the phone, it was around that time, so I texted him, saying I would be going to the hospital and he asked me if he should come as well. Even though I was contemplating whether this was necessary, my subconscious was already typing yes.
It would be faster for both of us to just meet there, so that’s what we did. We both drove to the hospital and met in the parking lot, then went to the department and were checked in. We were brought to a room, much like we had before (I had developed high blood pressure in the end), and were told someone would come in soon and set everything up.
Trying to find a heartbeat
Pretty soon a nurse came in, to set up the CTG. She tried to find the heartbeat of the baby, but couldn’t find it. So she said, “let me get someone to do an ultrasound, that way we can find it before you get too anxious”. I looked at Pat sitting in his chair and he looked back, trying to reassure me. The nurse came back, along with a gynaecologist in training with the ultrasound and she used it to find a heartbeat. And she said, there is no heartbeat. Just like that.
I started screaming “no, no, no” and Pat came to me with tears in his eyes and we just clung to each other. She asked me if I had done anything differently in the last days, “no”. Had I done drugs, “no”, feeling judged. I heard her say something like, let me get the OB/GYN in charge. And I felt a little hope, maybe she got it wrong…
But then the gynaecologist in charge came, he looked and said I’m afraid I have to tell you the most difficult thing I can tell someone at the end of a pregnancy. The baby has no heartbeat. And we were crying. They gave us some time alone. I realize now that a lot happened that afternoon/night. And a lot is blurry as to the order of things or the exact wording.
My sister called at some point, because my niece wanted to talk to me. Which she texted me right after. I texted back saying I was in the hospital, to which she asked if everything was okay. I said no and that the baby’s heartbeat had stopped. After that, I sent a text to the family group text that Fynn had died. My mom was confused, not knowing who Fynn was. It was the first time I had used his name because we had planned to keep it a secret until his birth.
Arranging things
Anyway, tests were done to check whether I had gotten pre-eclampsia, I hadn’t. I suppose other blood tests were done as well, but nothing was found. They informed us of the next steps, they gave us information folders on the next steps and an appointment was made for Sunday to talk further about the next steps. Meanwhile, my sister arrived with my niece. We drove home, where I stayed with my niece and my sister and Pat went back to get the second car. They went home and Pat and I went to sleep.
Saturday we spent just sitting and watching shows, crying intermittently and talking. Reading the folders and figuring out where to go from there. Sunday Pat called the funeral service provider to set some things up. Pat looked up some awesome songs for the funeral service which we listened and cried to. We went back to the hospital and talked to our own OB/GYN and the nurse appointed to our care on Friday. They helped us with some great ideas for remembering him. And we set up the day I would be induced, Wednesday. We informed our birth photographer, because we still wanted photos of the birth and of Fynn, especially now.
Recognizing Fynn
Monday Pat set up an appointment with the municipality. We were not married and we weren’t registered partners (which has the same status as marriage in the Netherlands), which meant he had to officially recognize the child as his. Now, normally this can be done during the registry of birth, no problem. However, during the weekend we found out that in the case of stillborn children, if not recognized before birth, the child will get its mother’s last name. And we wanted the children to have his last name. So he needed to officially recognize him ASAP.
Luckily the municipality was understanding and we could come that very day. After we went back to the hospital to get my medication. During the trip there I told Pat, I just want to do something else. Ok, like what? Well, maybe a garden center or something, just something to take my mind off this, to not be in the house and dwelling on everything. So to the garden center we went. We had a blast, honestly. We found a fantastic Helleborus, and I immediately said “how about we take this home for Fynn, your family has something with roses, this is a winter rose, our baby boy is born in December, so this is so appropriate”. He agreed, we took it home along with some Christmas stuff.
Going into labor
That evening I went to bed around 9 or so. Around 10 I felt like I was having contractions, not exactly knowing for sure, being a first-time mom and all that. Pat came to bed and I told him, I feel like I’m having contractions, but I’m not sure. He asked if there was enough time to go to sleep, to which I said, yeah. At around 1 am I felt the contractions were about 7 or 8 minutes apart and decided to call the hospital because I didn’t know what the protocol was delivering a stillborn. They told me to come in, I woke up Pat (he just told me this was at 1:37 am), and off we went.
During the drive, the contractions sped up to around 5 minutes apart. When we got to the hospital we first got the spiel of what to expect when giving birth to a stillborn, which we already heard on Sunday. That took about half an hour. Then they set up the birthing bath, which was in my birth plan and which I still wanted to do. Turns out the bath couldn’t be used in that particular room so off we went to a different room. Me in my nightgown with my butt hanging out across the hallway. The nurse and Pat then set up the bath.
Now it was just getting through the contractions till it was time to push. At one point they asked me to get out of the bath so they could do an ultrasound to check something, don’t know exactly what anymore. What I do know is that it hurt getting out of the bath and onto the bed. That position was painful.
Fynn’s birth
Back to the bath I went and at around 4:15 AM I got to push. I had to pause at some point because apparently the chord was wrapped around Fynn’s neck and it was making it hard to deliver him. Pat cut the chord and after that, it was two more pushes and he was born at 4:45 AM. In silence. But he was beautiful. And perfect. 3395 grams, 52 cm, and lifeless. We cried, we laughed, we hugged and held him. Later that day we dressed him and took him home for a little while because four days later we said goodbye to him surrounded by our loved ones.
I feel like I haven’t told you everything, or not enough, because there is just so much to tell. Maybe I’ll share it later, but if you have read this far, thank you for reading our story. And thank you for allowing me to get it off my chest.
