It’ll never happen to me.
I’m not sure how many times I must have told myself that throughout my teenage years and early twenties, believing myself to be indestructible, and naively tackling each day as it came.
Fast-forward a decade to here and now; The nonchalance has long since passed, as I sit beside the hospital bed of my Fiancé, Beth, having seen a few hours ago that our unborn daughter, aged 26 weeks, had passed away.
The tears have dried. At least for now, and we sit with sore, bloodshot eyes. But we sit with wrinkled smiles on our shaking lips, and talk about how Evelynn had picked the perfect time to leave us. She had taken control at the most difficult time in our lives, and made a decision we couldn’t possibly have made. For that, we are eternally grateful.
During the early stages of pregnancy, a problem developed in the placenta, restricting the blood flow from mother to child. Because of this, Evelynn’s tiny heart was having to work far harder than it should have to.
The blood flow problem was monitored closely from early on, and we were informed that the pregnancy would continue normally as long as it could while Evelynn was continuing to grow. If she deteriorated at all then she would be delivered. We’d also been told that due to her extreme prematurity, as well as the growth restriction, that her chances of survival were slim. Even if she made it through caesarian delivery, she could die at any stage of the lengthy stay she would require in the NICU.
In a dimly lit room we sat. We sat and we listened silently as the consultant explained that Evelynn had deteriorated significantly, and that she would have to be delivered immediately if she was to have any chance of survival.
Preparations were made, and emotions were charged. A tangle of feelings; hope, and determination, mixed with worry, and questions of morality all jostled to take control.
However, the tangle subsided, and incomprehensible grief took over, as less than an hour before Beth was due to go into theatre the fight became too much for our daughter, and she slipped quietly away.
Rest in peace Evelynn Grace xxx