Hope After Loss
Finding peace, joy & meaning after the loss of a baby.
On Monday night, the 4th of April 2016, I barely slept because I was in emotional turmoil. I thought it was because of the battle my father was facing, but in hindsight, I think my spirit might have known that there was more: I was about to experience the worst sorrow I have ever known.
On Tuesday evening, the 5th of April 2016, when I was 39 weeks pregnant, I realised that I hadn’t felt Kaleb move the entire day. It was as if my mind rewound everything that had happened and what I felt on that day and reported back to my conscious mind: there was no movement.
I applied pressure to my abdomen like I often did to wake him, but this time it felt different. It felt soft, lifeless, motionless, dead. I knew there was something seriously wrong. We immediately went to the hospital, but I knew it was too late. The uneasiness of the two wonderful midwives trying to pick up his heartbeat almost made me feel sorry for them. I wanted to assure them that I already knew, but I was in robot mode and just passively watched as life – or rather, death – unfolded.
While we waited for the doctor to arrive, minutes felt like hours. I was waiting for the words every mother dreaded to hear: ʺthere is no heartbeatʺ. When the gynaecologist confirmed what I never wanted to hear, I was calm, in my self-preservation bubble. Only the sobs of my husband reminded me that something awful was happening. I was in a dream, in a horrible dream, and maybe tomorrow I would realise that none of this actually happened.
