Sherri's Story

My ultimate dream… to be a Mother. After meeting my lovely husband, we both agreed pretty early on that the prospect of children played a vital part in our future. I have always been besotted with children and I couldn’t wait to nurture a little family of my own. When the time finally came for us to try for a baby, my husband and I learnt that a care-free conception was not meant to be. After numerous tests and lots of waiting, we were advised that our chances of conceiving naturally were very unlikely and therefore, the only way to optimise our chances would be to consider IVF. Understandably, we were absolutely gutted! There was just no way of escaping our hurtful reality with the constant reminder of young families, newborn babies and pregnancy announcements everywhere. It was all we could think about, and before long it became ‘all consuming.’ As we embarked upon the IVF rollercoaster, the life we previously knew slowly faded into the distance as we prepared ourselves for a restless and very uncertain chapter. We managed to muddle our way through the highs and lows of IVF and obsessed over the little things, as you do! Like anything in life, you can’t begin to comprehend the journey unless you’ve arrived at the destination. We were eventually blessed with two 5 day blastocysts, one of which went on to become our precious little boy, Charlie. January 2020 The last day of work, prior to embarking on maternity leave, should be filled with long awaited joy. It should be the start of a new, exciting chapter in any expectant Mother’s life however, I was to learn that mine would soon be very different… On my first day of maternity leave, I noticed that our usually active, wriggly baby (who we had come to love so much) was very quiet. Without hesitation, I contacted my midwife and was later admitted to hospital after an abnormal CTG. Over 24 hours later I was placed under general anesthetic and our beautiful little boy was delivered into this world via emergency C-section. Unfortunately, I had to be taken back to theatre for a second time after suffering from further complications and significant blood loss, all whilst my husband waited anxiously on his own. Charlie had been rushed to the Neonatal Unit where a skilled Pediatric team worked tirelessly to save his little life. He was incredibly poorly and had to be intubated and placed on a ventilator; unable to breathe for himself. Over the coming days, we learned that Charlie had a catastrophic brain injury. We learned that despite everyone’s best efforts, his condition was worsening with each day and he was unlikely to ever recover. After two MRI scans, numerous tests/examinations and several consultations with specialist Pediatricians from across the country, we were told of Charlie’s fate. As a parent, your natural instinct is to immediately ‘protect’ and as I sat with my husband, my hand in his, that feeling wholly consumed me. How could we possibly consent to such an agonizing destiny for our son? After all, Charlie was finally here! He was absolutely beautiful and perfect in every way; and now we had to contemplate the unthinkable. Charlie lived for 2 weeks. Saying goodbye to him was the single most heartbreaking moment of my life. The worst nightmare for any parent. Before Charlie passed away peacefully in our arms, we were able to create some special memories with him. We bathed and dressed him, took his footprints, sang amongst the tears and read him his favorite story, Guess How Much I Love You. He was immersed in cuddles and kisses from his devoted parents and loving family, before taking his final breaths. After Charlie’s death, my husband and I continued to visit and hold him; I know this is a very personal choice, but it was certainly the right one by us. I guess we weren’t ready to accept our little boy had died and our instinct to ‘nurture’ was so overwhelming. After all, we were still able to physically hold and kiss his tiny, beautiful features. We have endured so many complex emotions throughout our journey of loss, especially during those periods of raw, unspeakable grief. Those moments where you can’t seem to find your way through the thick fog; yet somehow you manage to take another step forward, allowing your pain to guide you in some way. The day of Charlie’s funeral was one of overwhelming sorrow, heartache and suffering. After the ceremony, my husband cradled Charlie’s tiny, white casket in his arms as I walked alongside him, clutching and sobbing into his teddy bear. As we stepped out of the church, we were met with the most beautiful, uplifting rainbow; and as if that wasn’t magical enough, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ was playing peacefully in the background as we walked with him in our arms. (our chosen song for the end of the ceremony) In our hearts, we know this was Charlie’s special gift to us and his way of spreading a little bit of magic. I think the harsh reality that consumes a parent beyond this milestone is very subjective. For me, I could never have imagined the intensity of what I was about to face. Who can I guess? The death of a baby/child certainly goes against the natural order of life. I am still navigating my way through the complex stages of grief, which seem to have become a fusion of overwhelming sadness, anger/frustration, hopelessness and confusion. The severity of these feelings vary with each day, but I am slowly learning to be gentle with myself and worry less about the expectations of others. That little bit of HOPE sometimes nudges it way through too, bringing me some much needed solace. Charlie was the most precious of beings however, during his short life he taught me so much. He reaffirmed what is truly important and reminded me not to dwell on the trivial things in life; For your health is all that truly matters and the love we hold in our hearts.