Saturday, 22 January 2011


It makes people uncomfortable if you say the word 'stillbirth'. I know why. I would probably have winced myself, before Bear.
This is what I would have thought: Victorian bedroom, beige linen, candle flickering, doctor and his intriguing leather bag, iron bedstead, nurse with her crisp white head covering, screaming mother.
It is horrible that the connotations are so archaic. Even worse, is the notion that one - that I - 'suffers' a stillbirth.
Yes, there is so much suffering.
But the birth - that was beautiful.
I know, it is hard to believe. But in that room at St Mary's, with Toby willing me on, is when I felt closest to my boy. It was when we worked together, when I saw his face and when I kissed his little, peachy toes.
I did not suffer a stillbirth, I delivered my son who was sleeping. His life was no less precious, just because it was short.
As someone wrote in one of our condolence cards, to lose a baby at any point during a pregnancy is truly terrible. To lose a baby at 39 weeks, is to lose a child.
Stark, but true. And so comforting. Her insight gave Bear validity and that is all we ask.


  1. Oh, I believe you 100%, because I felt the same when my boy was born, perfect, asleep.

  2. Your words about Bear's birth have really touched me. I feel the same about my baby's birth. I want to tell people when they are comparing birth stories - "oh yes, I felt that too" but I can't bring myself too - everyone would curl up in awkwardness. I watch "one born every minute" and cry my way through it. At the moment when the crying baby is passed up to the mum my heart breaks for the silence and sadness we had.

  3. This is soo soo true I have tears rolling down my face as I read your beautiful words about your delivery! I felt empowered and proud and I fell even more in love with my baby boy in those moments.

  4. I had a beautiful birth experience with my little one as well. I would go back and do it all again right now if I had the choice.