This is My Story - Cathy

In this series of personal stories we hear from parents who have suffered pregnancy or baby loss. We hold space for loss and grief, and we remember our babies gone too soon.

In sharing their stories, these parents are beginning to exorcise the triple demons of stigma, silence and ignorance that afflict so many conversations in the perinatal bereavement space.

Parents share their journeys and the lessons they have learned about grief, parenthood, friendship and living after the death of their baby. They tell us how they have changed, who they have become, and what truly matters now.

Baby girl Sage with her parents

My husband Jacob and I had planned to welcome our first baby girl into this world

with open, excited arms and unconditional love.

We had her name ready - Sage - her room, and everything she would ever need on this Earth. It had been 9 months of having her grow inside of me and the time was fast approaching to deliver her into our arms and our family.

On Saturday night of Nov 6th, I went to bed after feeling her movements and kicks all day as per usual. But somehow overnight, things changed.

The next day I couldn't feel her as I normally would. She wasn't kicking up my right rib or startling me with her dances. I didn't feel her at all.

A trip to the hospital and a few attempted CTGs followed by an ultrasound confirmed our nightmare was true. There was no heartbeat.

My heart shattered at that moment. A numbness overcame me as I somehow had to process this devastating news. But still had to proceed with the delivery our baby.

Tears streamed down my face. The life I once knew, the innocence of it all, vanished suddenly with the news of our baby's death.

I was induced that Sunday night and still had to experience the intensity of labour pains for nearly 30 hours. On Monday 8th Nov 2021 at 11:32pm, Sage Azalea Wilson was birthed sleeping.

I had hoped everything they told me was wrong. But sadly, her lifeless and quiet body was proof of her death. Unfortunately there were no reasons why she died, becoming part of the 1 in 4 statistic of baby loss in utero.

We laid our eyes on her for the first time but never got the opportunity to see her open her eyes. We spent time together as a new family, but the guilt of seeing her body disintegrate in a few short days was heartbreaking.

Leaving Sage at the hospital and going home empty-handed was an all-time low. A part of me died when I birthed Sage, but a part of me also died when I had to say goodbye to her, physically and forever, and close the coffin at her funeral.

There is no end to the depth of pain and the void that comes with birthing a dead

baby. Having to connect on borrowed time, and saying goodbye on so many occasions. To never ever be able to experience motherhood without loss, and having to experience the first chest-to-chest with a still baby.

Grief from the death of our baby and all the secondary losses that come after that is so heavy. We thought the most difficult choice was how to bring her into this world.

Never in a million years would we have thought we would have to deliver her lifeless body into the world.

No words can ever truly describe the heartache and pain we were in, and are still feeling with the loss of our baby. No amount of tears we have shed over the years can ever bring her back, and it broke our hearts when we couldn't take her home with us.

3 years on and life still has a sense of emptiness. We moved into our new house

which we started when Sage was still alive. Sage's absence is forever felt, everyday, but even more so on the milestone days and life events, such as this one.

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