Someone shared this story on my local mums WhatsApp group yesterday.
I had heard a similar story before. Someone who had a baby that was stillborn and they held their baby close and miraculously it started to breathe. I remember being in labour, having been told that Lentil had died, not willing to believe it. Sure that it would be OK once our baby was born, sure that they were all wrong. I held him so tightly when he finally arrived. I rubbed his back. I tried. I really did. But there was no miracle for us. No tiny movement. No whisper of a breath. Just my beautiful boy, getting colder and bluer despite my best efforts to keep him warm.
As I clicked on this video I knew I shouldn’t watch it. I was pretty sure about what was going to happen but watch it I did. I found myself internally screaming ‘I tried!’. I almost felt like it was telling me I didn’t try hard enough. If I’d made him feel warmer, cosier, more loved, maybe he would have lived.
I’m a teacher and science is my specialism. I know that these thoughts have no basis in reality. Lentil died hours before he was born. There was nothing anyone could do. Yet something like that video, something that’s supposed to be so full of joy, really knocked me for six.
I squeezed J tighter, I shared my thoughts with Paul. I cried while J watched the Mr Men to distract her from my minor meltdown.
I am so happy with my life. I absolutely adore my little family but I will always miss my boy and I’m sure there will always be occasional meltdowns. A teacher of mine once gave me a keyring like this.