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27^th September 2011

Today was a very hard day.  Our friend picked Sam up early to take him to playgroup for us and we went for a coffee.  I needed a new pack of maternity pads and John went into the chemist to save me having to go.  The lady in the chemist was gushing and asked him how old his baby was.  Such kind words become so cruel at times like this.

We sat in the coffee shop preparing ourselves for a trip back to the hospital to register Emilie-Rose on the still birth register – a legality.  Nothing could have prepared us for this.  Once at the hospital we were greeted by Val, our family support worker who told us ‘this is going to be hard for you’.  We were taken up to the registry office where we met our registrar – a very well meaning lady who unfortunately was not prepared for meeting a grieving couple.  We filled in the necessary forms and I broke down at putting ‘full time mother’ in the occupation box.  I had taken a bold step to take a career break to look after Samuel and Emilie-Rose.  I think this is the first time it dawned on me that I was going to have alot of adjusting to do.  After registering we came out of the registrar’s office and were greeted by a waiting room full of happy couples and their new babies.  Again I felt every eye on us as we stumbled through the waiting room and out into the corridor where once again I broke down. 

We then had some more time to spend with Emilie who had been laid in a tiny crib in a special nursery room.  She looked so quiet and peaceful – my beautiful little angel.  I leant down to touch her and was startled by how cold she was.  This scared me and I nearly refused to hold her but Val encouraged me to do so.  Once I’d got her I wondered how I was ever going to let her go again.  My arms literally felt empty without her and holding her was the only thing that remotely filled that gap.  I knew that she was just a body and not really my beautiful girl – I know that my real baby is in heaven and that one day I will get to meet her but clutching to her body was the only thing I could do to feel close to her.  We spent a while with her before speaking to a bereavement counsellor and discussing funeral arrangements with Val.  Leaving Emilie at the hospital that last time is the hardest thing I have ever had to do and once again the crippling sorrow I had felt came crashing back down on top of me.

We told Samuel what had happened tonight.  We showed him some photos of her this afternoon and then left him to ask about her when he was ready.  He asked at bedtime.  I explained that Emilie had been very poorly and that she was unable to come home from hospital.  I used the word ‘died’ to try and enforce a sense of normality.  I showed him a picture of Jesus ascending into heaven and explained that she was in heaven with Jesus and that he wouldn’t be able to see or hear her.  Through the questions he asked I think he is beginning to understand.  Telling Sam was possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.