To Gracie Wren

The first time you lose a child, the world divides into Before and After.

I thought I was an adult. It took two years to conceive your big sister, and her pregnancy was complicated. I had to face my own mortality, and Daddy had to face the possibility of losing us both. Then the first months of parenting were a steep learning curve, as they are for all new parents.

But we knew we wanted more babies, so we started trying again when your big sister was eight months old. I can’t describe how thrilled we were when we found out you were on the way! We were apprehensive about two under two, but we thought it would be amazing to have siblings so close in age.

The great advantage of high risk pregnancies is the early scans. At six and a half weeks we saw your heart beating. Then we knew you were really real.

Every pregnancy is different, and there are many benign reasons why people bleed during pregnancy. So when I started spotting dark blood at nine weeks, I managed to silence the doubting voices. It was significantly less bleeding than I had with your big sister! But when the blood turned red, I knew. I tried to tell Daddy but he didn’t believe me.

The next day, your big sister went to her godmother and we went to the pregnancy assessment unit for a scan.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the world shifted and everything changed. I already knew that we had lost you. But still, everything changed when we saw that your heart wasn’t beating. It had probably stopped a couple of weeks before, when the dark spotting started.

The midwives were lovely. They gave us a choice of options, and I decided I wanted things to proceed naturally.

On the way home, Daddy had to pull the car over so that he could cry. He said, “I thought we could call the baby Wren, because he was so small and had to fly away so soon.”

“I thought we could call the baby Grace, because by grace of God she came, and by grace of God he will never know pain or suffering,” I said. We have called you Gracie Wren ever since.

Daddy took the next day off work and then it was the weekend, so we had three sad, quiet family days. On the Monday, I gave your big sister a lovely day, and I was so proud of myself.

The next few hours are etched on my memory and always will be, but I can’t write about them yet. Just a few images stand out.

Your tiny big sister, eleven months old, standing against the French windows watching as I went into the ambulance. I didn’t know whether I would be able to come back to her.

The ambulance ride, which made me horribly travel sick.

Waking up after surgery and finding that I was still alive. I would be able to go home to Daddy and my living baby.

Did you want your Mummy to come and dance with you in Heaven, Gracie Wren? I was so torn. In some ways it would have been easy. But I didn’t want to leave my living child, or your Daddy. I knew they would never recover if I did.

Mummy and Daddy didn’t know any better, so 36 hours later I was full time parenting again. For months I couldn’t speak about you at all. It was all too raw. I descended into bitter depression.

In September that year, we had a few days of joy when your first younger sibling came and quickly went away. That loosened my tongue, and I found I could talk about you, and that doing so helped a lot. In February, it happened again.

A year ago, we were between houses. We had to move out of our old house a month before we moved into our new house. I knew I was late because of moving stress, but Daddy persuaded me to take a test. When it was positive, we thought the day had been redeemed. So we went on holiday the following day full of joy. We were about to move into our dream house, and we had a new baby on the way!

Our first scan was on my fortieth birthday, and we found out that it was twins! There was a note of caution from the midwife, but we were so thrilled to be having twins. A dream coming true for Mummy and Daddy!

A week later, the consultant told us that it might not be a viable pregnancy after all, and five days after that, the twins came to dance with you in Heaven. We named them Thomas, which means Twin, and Perdita, which means Lost Child.

And on January 4th this year, our New Year baby went to join you too.

Oh Gracie. The last two years have been so short, but endless. I know I will see you again one day. I believe that you will recognise me first. I visualise you dancing in God’s presence with your five little siblings, and I am sure that you all watch out for your big sister. Please watch out for your next little sibling, when there is one, and help them to stay with us, too. Mummy is weary and sad, although I still try to hope.

Good night, Gracie Wren. Mummy will never stop loving you.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the world shifted. There was Before. Now, forever, it will always be After.