This is My Story - Courtney

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.

Mabel with her teddy

I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) so my husband, Joseph, and I used a fertility specialist to help get pregnant. I had medication which brought on ovulation and it worked on the second try.

I remember how fast the line came up when I did a pregnancy test and waking Joseph up at 5am (which for him is incredibly early, as he’s a night shift worker). I was so, so, so excited.

I had planned so much for this pregnancy that it felt like everything was aligning.

I’d bought a house, gotten married, had a big overseas holiday so it felt like this was just the next step. I was really excited to be a parent, and to see Joseph become a dad. I thought I’d make a pretty good mum, because I work with children, infants and pregnant women and I felt like this baby would always be safe with me.

I went to my 20 week scan and about 5-10 minutes in, the woman doing the scan left the room and didn’t come back for 20 minutes. I knew something was wrong.

When she came back she told me that my cervix was dilated by 7mm. She’d called my obstetrician and they would call me in a few minutes to talk about the next steps. The medical receptionist called me, told me to come to hospital for a quick, common procedure and that while I’d need general anaesthetic, the procedure itself only takes 20 minutes.

When I arrived at hospital, they told me I’d been moved to tomorrow and would need to be admitted. I wasn’t given much more information. I had to ask what symptoms are a sign I need to get help and was told cramping.

The next day everyone was so chill about this procedure that I made Joseph go home for it. He didn’t want to leave, but I was worried about our dog and wanted him to take him for a walk. I was very reassured that this is apparently suuuuuper common. So Joseph left, I went to theatre and was put under general anaesthetic.

The next thing that I know is I woke up completely alone with my waters broken and gushes of fluid exiting my body.

I grabbed a nurse as she walked past me and asked her for help. She told me she’d get someone but to not panic, because I’d just wet myself. I told her this wasn’t me wetting myself and started to have a panic attack.

The anaesthetist walked past and said “your membranes ruptured, I’m sorry.” I was panicking so much I remember my jaw chattering so strongly that I could barely talk. I was trying to ask the nurse to help me - but I couldn’t really get my words out.

My obstetrician came up to me, asked me if I’d had any cramping (I hadn’t) and said that I was 2.5cm dilated with bulging membranes and that the procedure had failed, resulting in my waters breaking. I then didn’t see my obstetrician for 30 hours.

No one called my next of kin for me. I had to call Joseph myself and tell him the procedure had failed while he was at the dog park and I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out.

No one would tell me what was happening. All afternoon the nurses kept saying my OB would come and talk to me that night, then it was pushed back to the next morning, then she never came and it was pushed back again… I don’t think I stopped crying that entire time.

Finally, about 24 hours after I woke from general anaesthetic, I snapped and started screaming at the nurses if someone could please just tell me if my baby was dead.

I found out my OB had gone to her clinic and I felt SO alone. I had no idea what was happening to me, or my baby, and she was off doing monthly scans for women whose pregnancies were fine.

She called me and answered some of my questions, but she also didn’t freely give me information regarding what was happening. I didn’t know what questions to ask to understand what was going on. I ended up messaging a friend I’d gone to high school with that I hadn’t spoken to in years because I vaguely remembered her posting about a premature rupture of membranes during her pregnancy with her son.

She was the one that told me about PPROM (Preterm Pre-labour Rupture of Membranes), what positions to lie in, what foods to eat, to keep my fluid intake up and the importance of replenishing the amniotic fluid that I was losing. She told me everything the OB should have told me.

When the OB came at 8:30pm that night (I’d gone in to my procedure at 1pm the previous day!), she appeared annoyed that I’d reached out and asked a friend for advice. I asked for an ultrasound and she resisted, saying that it would cost me $150 - which I was more than happy to pay, to find out if my baby had a heart beat.

My OB sighed, walked away and came back with a fucking portable ultrasound machine 1 minute later. The WHOLE thirty hours I'd been waiting it was right there, ready to give an answer as to whether my baby was alive or dead. Yet no one had helped me get that answer. My baby had a heart beat and was hiccuping.

I stayed in hospital for four days. My OB told me that 90% of women who experience PPROM will go into labour within 2 weeks.

My baby was not yet at viability, so I knew she would die if I went into labour within that 2 week period.

On the 18th July 2023 I woke early in the morning with cramping. I was given pain relief and went back to sleep. I woke up again a little while later with more significant cramping, but then I started shaking, convulsing and vomiting. I felt SO

dehydrated I thought I could actually die of thirst, but every sip of water I took made me vomit.

I ended up having sepsis. But my veins had shrunk so much that they couldn’t get a needle into me to give me whatever the medicine is that I needed. Joseph just stood and rubbed my legs for hours while people tried to save me. I don’t remember much else. I know they had multiple people try to get a needle into my arms, hands, legs, feet - pretty much anywhere there could be a vein - without success.

Joseph said my eyes went bloodshot and my veins were showing on my face. I kept losing consciousness, but would also keep vomiting.

He said there were so many people in the room. I mostly just remember him rubbing my legs. I do remember giving birth though. I remember pushing her out, but I lost consciousness for 1 -2 hours immediately after.

I don’t remember this, but Joseph told me that I kept saying sorry, and that I’d tried to keep her in me. In ways I think my birth was harder on Joseph, because he remembers it all. My OB wasn’t there, and I’m so grateful she didn’t deliver my baby. A midwife delivered her, and that midwife later told me that her first baby was stillborn too.

Mabel Valerie Wilson. Born 18th July 2023 at 8:33am. We chose the name Valerie 2 days before she was born, because it means “strength” and “health” and we were hoping this was a symbol that she would beat the odds. We always knew her name was going to be Mabel.

Gosh she had my nose and she was so small. She had Joseph’s ears and her feet were so big! She was like a real life hobbit baby. She looked exactly like any other newborn baby looks like but she was just so tiny. I felt so much love for her when I was holding her, but it didn’t really hit me because I was still recovering. I think I lost consciousness again soon after I held her.

I got to stay with her for 2 days after I gave birth to her. A photographer came and took photos of Mabel for me, and we had some photos taken together. I was moved to another part of the hospital where I couldn’t hear newborn babies crying.

Joseph stayed with me the whole time and it was like we were in this little bubble with Mabel for a couple of days.

Our immediate families also came and met her. Those two days with her are some of the most precious days of my life.

I’ve always felt so alone with my experience. Even with connecting with the Incompetent Cervix community and other bereaved parents, it’s still so isolating.

I used to say that it felt like I’d woken up in an alternate reality, and this life that I was living was just wrong. I wanted my life back when I didn’t know what this grief felt

like.

Honestly, I couldn’t work at my job anymore. I worked with children, infants, young people and pregnant women who experienced domestic and family violence and I LOVED my job. I did it for 7 years and I have amazing memories of the people I’ve met along the way. But it was too triggering.

Hearing the violence that babies and pregnant women were experiencing. They’re so precious, so lucky to be here, and a person believes they have the right to subject that person to violence? I couldn’t handle it. I really wish I could have continued to be a strong advocate for those women and children, but it was taking too much of a toll on me.

My team were wonderful; they were the absolute definition of women supporting women. I remember there was a day that I just walked out of the office and cried for so long in our courtyard, and they were all there for me that afternoon when I walked back inside. Not overcrowding me, just being there for me.

I really struggle now with my friends and family who are mums. While I can empathise that even the easiest pregnancy is hard, if someone I know goes through a pregnancy and has no complications, I feel this rage inside of me at the unfairness of it all.

It’s even worse if they complain about something like a sore back (which is their right!). I feel like my emotions don’t match my values. I’m trying to work on it, but I just find it hard to connect with other mums, as much as I want a village around my living child.

What I want to scream for the world to hear is - LOSS HAPPENS AFTER THE FIRST TRIMESTER! I was shocked I lost my Mabel at 20+5. That just doesn’t happen anymore, right? We have modern medicine, right? Once you’re passed 13 weeks, everything is

fine, right? RIGHT?

I honestly just didn’t know. Stillbirth was a horror story that someone’s friend's mother's cousin’s friend went through, not me or anyone I know.

To find out that approximately 2500 babies are stillborn every year was such a shock. I thought pregnancy was safe. I didn’t know getting pregnant would mean that I would nearly die. I also thought that going to a private hospital meant that I would get better care, but as you’ve seen, that is just not the case. Not saying that public is the right option for everyone, but private doesn’t automatically mean better.

I truly believe the only reason I have my rainbow baby is because of the healthcare I received in the public system, and had I gone public with Mabel, I think I would have had a greater chance of saving her.

For people who have experienced stillbirth - your baby knew a lifetime of warmth, love and the sound of your heartbeat. I wish they could have stayed with you, but you provided them with the perfect life while they were here.

I know it feels like it, but you aren’t alone. It’s okay to shut the world out for a while and to stop replying to people. They will be there when you are ready. But please, please talk to someone if your grief becomes unmanageable. You are so important, and none of this was your fault, karma, or at all deserved.

I’ve really struggled looking at the photos of Mabel because I know she’s not alive. I

can tell from her facial expression that she doesn’t have a heartbeat anymore. I treasure my photos of her, but it’s just hard when I so desperately wish I could have seen her breathe, watch her reach milestones, call me Mama, cuddle me, cry with me.

God I wanted all of the bad days too - the sickness, the sleep refusal, the hormones making her yell at me. I didn’t get any of those. I don’t have the comfort of memories with her to help me through my grief. I said earlier that it was like waking up in an alternate reality, where everything was wrong.

I asked Possum Portraits if a photo I had of Mabel could be altered slightly so it looked like she could just be sleeping. I feel like I have a glimpse into the reality that should have been.

Honestly, our social welfare system doesn’t care about women. If Mabel was born six days earlier, I wouldn’t have had access to maternity leave. I would have had two days bereavement leave and whatever personal and annual leave I had.

Women are losing their babies every single day in Australia, babies who are loved, desperately wished for, prayed for, even paid for through fertility treatments. If a woman loses her baby from 14 weeks onwards (approximately), she goes into labour. Her body labours and she delivers her baby, and yet she is entitled to two measly days of bereavement leave to help her body heal and come to terms with her loss.

I would like to see miscarriage leave for women who miscarry in the second trimester as part of our social welfare system. I don’t think I could have survived my loss had I not had access to leave.

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