Thursday 13 August 2015

When you can't find the heartbeat.

WARNING: sensitive, potentially upsetting topic follows. 



Being a midwife is 99% the best job in the world. On a regular day I deliver wriggly, wet, naked babies into a brand new world. There will be three people in a room, and then all of a sudden there will be four living, breathing, dreaming beings and it's like magic. You deal with the stress and the pressure and the responsibility because nothing in this world compares to watching a family evolve, watching a woman realise her full potential, being a witness to a baby's first breath. If I take time to think about what I actually do, it blows my mind. And that is because I'm passionate about women and childbirth and pregnancy, like all midwives are. We don't do it for the glamour, or the money- It's the most amazing thing and I'm privileged to be a part of it. However it's not always happy endings. And those moments are the moments I go home and never stop thinking about. 
The panic on the phone is barely disguised in her voice. "I haven't felt my baby move" she says "not for a few days now. Not properly" come in right away I say, keeping my voice upbeat and even. Come in, bring your notes and we'll check you over. I look at my colleague, "no movements" I say. The prayer we both say is silent and personal but I can see it in her eyes, and she in mine. Please don't let today be the day. 
When the woman buzzes in, I go to meet her personally at the door. Take her notes, give her a smile. Squeeze her arm. She's been crying but she's dried her tears. She's at the hospital now, it'll be ok. She's come alone, didn't want to worry anyone. Drove herself here, probably a bit too fast. I move her to a side room, the monitor's all set up. Usually I'd chat, do some observations and paperwork before listening in but neither of us can wait. She lays down and presents me with her perfect bump. I put my cold hands on her abdomen and it is at that point that I know, in my gut, this is not ok. My face remains passive as I perform the usual checks. I move the transducer to where I know I should get a thumping heart. Nothing. The silence is deafening. I don't fill it with my usual "this baby's hiding from me" or some other pleasantry. She knows. She always knew. She looks at me, scared. "Do I panic yet?" She half jokes. Is someone coming to meet you, I ask. She says her husband is on his way. Good. I don't want her to be alone for this. I move the monitor about, praying i'm wrong, knowing I'm not. Another midwife comes in, she sees my face and takes the monitor from me. She has a turn at fruitlessly moving it over and around. "I'll get a scan" I say, in my best calm voice. The husband arrives, white with panic. I show him in and close the door behind me. "I'm going to get someone to scan you" I say. Begging her to understand with my eyes, so I don't have to say it. "We can't find baby's heartbeat so it's the best way to know what's going on" the comprehension in their eyes is sharp and frightening. They grip tightly to each other, not daring to voice their thoughts out loud. I nip off, find a doctor that can prove me wrong. Please prove me wrong. They come right away, drop everything to be with me, this family. 
We stand in the dark scan room, focused on the screen. I lean against a wall, cross my fingers behind my back. I'm not qualified to make the diagnosis but I know what's coming. "I'm so sorry, there's no heart beat. Your baby has died" 
In the hours that follow, I don't cry. I save that until I'm home. I am the epitome "swan-like" calm and professional on the surface, paddling like mad to stay afloat underneath. I give myself to this family, to cry on, to blame, to ask questions. I am honest and sensitive and gentle. I leave the hospital in a daze. I pass pregnant women on my way out and I want to urge them "enjoy your baby before she's here. Talk to her. Watch her closely. Trust yourself" I get home and kick my shoes off. I don't even notice the ache in my feet or my back tonight. I run a bath and get in, it's then that the tears come. That poor fucking family. It's so unfair. 
We don't know why. It's possible we never will. Shit things happen, that's not good enough but it's all I have. I go to work the next day with a smile on my face, but I never ever stop thinking of that family. That baby. That mother and father who have so much unknown territory to cross now. A taboo subject, a bomb gone off in their lives that they don't know how to deal with. It touches so many people, when a baby dies. I know I'm not the only member of staff to have gone home and cried that night. We love these women, these babies, they're our vocation. We feel their loss deeply. We learn, move on and heal but we never, ever forget. 


UPDATE: I saw her, in the street. Smiling, with her hands on a tiny blooming baby bump. It filled my heart with joy. I approached her hesitantly, unsure if she'd want to see my face again, to be reminded. We locked eyes and she pulled me into the biggest hug. "I wasn't sure you'd remember me" she said. "Of course." I replied "A midwife never forgets" 


I wrote this post for me, as a reflection on my job. It is not based on a specific event, or case, or patient. It is an amalgamation of my experiences. I hope it hasn't upset you but I desperately want to break the taboo round this subject. Raise awareness. If you're pregnant, or know somebody that is, and they say their baby isn't moving as much- call a midwife. We want to know about any change in the baby's movements, whatever time of night or day. Trust yourself. These things happen and there is very little anyone can do to prevent them, but monitoring your baby's movements and acting on your instincts gives you your best chance. 



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23 comments

  1. Such a personal post! I really enjoyed reading it though in a strange way because it's such a real thing in our world! I can imagine it being such a hard thing to go through but having to stay sane during work must be hard.

    Much love girly,

    Robyn xo
    www.phasesofrobyn.com

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  2. Oh Abi, this is such a personal post yet will touch so many people! I imagine your job will go through ups and downs mainly ups with the joys of bringing a newborn into the world but it's good to share experiences like this for those who may be going through this situation or feel worried because they haven't felt movement. I have to agree it's important to raise awareness as this isn't something that is spoken about and I'm glad you're sharing this post hunxxxxxxx

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  3. I had to read this post twice because it was so good! Well done; this was such a good piece of writing. I hope it's widely read because the death of babies in the womb is such a taboo subject and like anything else, it's mainly because we fear what we don't understand. I hope writing this post helped you too! It's definitely going to help someone else.
    Rebecca | The Two Twenty Somethings
    Xx

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  4. We love our public servants, and understand. Baz x

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  5. I wish I'd taken up midwifery from the start It is such an amazing profession. A profession where you become apart of peoples lives.

    Very well written post and did bring a tear to my eyes. I hope some day we can learn enough to prevent so many needless deaths among the unborn x

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  6. Beautifully written. Such a heart wrenching experience. I'm two years into my midwifery degree and have yet to feel this pain. But I have felt this fear and the sigh of relief I shared with a mother was almost audible. Thank you for sharing x

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  8. Perfectly written, I was that 'parent' 12 years ago today :-(

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  11. My wife and I lost our little star when she was 37 weeks pregnant 11 months ago. Your story is both breathtaking and heartbreaking. When we collected the flowers for the funeral the lady gave us some great advice "be gentle to each other" them words have got us through some hard times.

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  12. You're such a lovely and kind person. You do so much for so many people and I hope you know how very appreciated you are! xxx

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  16. Such a beautifully written piece that I feel privileged to share. As a trustee of Abigails Footsteps and former joint chair of Surrey SANDS I applaud you for writing this. Thank you, you are a very special midwife x

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  17. Aplolgises for my comment posting several times. Managed to delete the reproductions!

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  18. Aplolgises for my comment posting several times. Managed to delete the reproductions!

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  19. Beautifully written and very touching. I lost my little Boy Oscar Jesnen in November 2014 and have struggled to understand how it must have been for the midwife who had to deliver the devastating news to me........... now I have a gentle wider understanding thanks to your wonderfully well written blog. THank you so much for your insight. I have now found the strength to set up a charity Oscars wish foundation to support other bereaved parents, children and family members and would love to share your blog with your permission? Gemma- Oscar's Wish Foundation x

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  20. We lost our grandson in May 2015. It was the most traumatic time of my life. A UK charity 4Louis helped us through the dark times. They provided us with a memory box which helped my daughter cope. I now work with 4Louis to promote awareness of still birth and talk to other grandparents who are struggling to support their daughters.
    I wrote about losing Harry in my Blog One Eye on Life sharonabbott155.blogspot.com
    Thanks for sharing and check out my blog if you get the chance

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  21. Oh god, this. Beautifully written but devastating. Thank you for doing all that you do.

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  22. I never met the midwife who delivered my stillborn daughter again, but I wish I had the opportunity to thank her. She came on shift as the Doctor confirmed that our baby had died, and she stayed with me as I was induced and gave birth to a perfect 7lb baby girl. It must have been one of the worst shifts of her working life, but I will always be grateful for the love and compassion with which she worked on that horrible day 8 years ago. We are truly blessed to have midwives like you, Abigail. Believe me, your kindness makes the world of differenceto parents going through the devestation of a stillbirth. Thank you x

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  23. Beautifully written yet heartbreaking. You're right, Abigail. Pregnancy loss needs to be talked about more and not remain a taboo topic so that women can get the support they desperately need. With October being pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, I hope that miscarriages and pregnancy losses can be finally destigmatised.

    Sarah

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