My third pregnancy was here and I was with child again. This time Skul and I whilst making love both consciously opened up and this little being came to us. I was determined this time to completely honour this child and trust my instincts, by not having ultrasounds and the rest of the intervention offered. I became quite ill straight away, struggling to drink a cup of herbal tea and this feeling lasted all day. The experience of ‘morning sickness’ had ‘upped the ante’ third time around and I was left with such little energy, struggling desperately to give my boys what they needed from me. At times I entertained the idea of just slipping away into an unconsciousness state, not having to feel or respond. It made me think much about people who have fatal illnesses and their journeys to be present especially when they are in the grips of pain and where they must delve into their bodies to remain living.
Coming into the third month of my pregnancy, I had started to feel that I could not continue on in this manner and asked this little one to leave me. This gesture came with very little understanding of the magnitude of my request. The following week one evening I started to get extremely uncomfortable grabbing around my abdomen. I was sitting in the beanbag and could not rise because of the pain. Then I felt this warmth flowing from in between my legs, like a wee, I put my hands in my undies and my hand came out covered in blood. I crawled to the bathroom in excruciating pain, grabbed the phone on the way and made it to the toilet. The entire time I was having severe crippling cramping and could not get myself out of a 90 degree bend. Blood was freely falling from with inside of me, at one stage I felt something more solid leave my body, but did not lay eyes on this. I called Skul who was doing a late stint at work and he ran home, thankfully he only works one block away from where we live. By the time he got home the bleeding had reduced, but the cramping was still intense. I managed to get out onto the couch, Skul got me a hot water bottle which felt so good on my abdomen and at times found myself doing deep moaning for the pain coming from deep inside of me. We decided the lay low at home and visit our GP in the morning. All that evening I cramped, like I was in the throes of labour. It dawned on me that I held much responsibility for this present journey. I felt like I had miscarried but all evening I found myself visualising the placenta being attached to my uterus, going very deep inside of me and begging for it to retain within me.
The next morning, off to our GP who I had seen earlier in this pregnancy to help me with my vomiting, prescribing me anti nausea medication due to my weight loss and inability to keep any liquid or food within me. Through my telling of the story, she too had assumed that I miscarried and decided to send me off for an ultrasound first, in my mind at this stage I was on my way to hospital for a curette, because these are the stories I had heard. At the imaging clinic we waited with heightened emotion and finally went in. The guy did his thing, I could not look at the screen, and he said in a jovial voice,”Oh look there is your baby’s beating heart”. I became overwhelmed and in disbelief, as this was not what I was expecting to hear and thought he must have made mistake, but there it was my baby’s beating heart. I was left in a relieved and humble state. This image also showed continued bleeding, slower, and the placenta quite close to my cervix.
We returned home in a wonderful state. The next two months continued with on and off bleeding of fresh red blood, more trips for ultra sounds and GP visits. I also had continual contractions occurring. During this time I had reluctantly agreed to see an obstetrician about the continual bleeding because it was considered out of the normal range for pregnancy. I argued my point that I had a Midwife and I trust in her judgement and in the end I was convinced to attend an appointment. Very early in this story I had also contacted our home birthing midwife to be with us on this journey. My initial contact with her was when I was around 8 weeks pregnant and she had kindly suggested that I get in contact with her again when I was 4 or 5 months pregnant. After the first bleed I made contact again. Lyn came a few times during this next couple of months and always in response to my bleeding, her concern and truth were always so wonderful. The bleeding started to slow down and now the blood looked like last day period blood dried and rusty coloured. I started to feel a little more at ease and that perhaps we had made it over the hurdle. The Thursday night I had a wonderful connection with this little being, talking away and connecting deep inside. I was responded to by strong movements from inside my uterus. I felt calm and centred. The Friday another ultra sound, just to check the heart rate was okay and it was. I refused all other procedures to do with the ultra sound, in attempt to minimise the energy waves accessing my baby. We went home and had a very quiet and relaxed evening.
I woke up on grand final morning, to feel a rage within me. I was furious at everything, my family received the full extent of my emotion and the best thing I could do was jump in the car with my dog Timor, and escape to the beach. I found myself at Point Impossible, got out of the car with Timor and wandered down to the sand in complete disconnection of my current body, like in a cloud. As soon as my feet landed on the sand and rocks, noises escaped my body that I never knew existed. I howled, I moaned, I guttural screamed, I wept, I cried and I collapsed onto the sand. My dog was by my side for the many kilometre walk. Her normal response to the beach is to swim and smell and wee everywhere, but she knew something was amiss. It was not until all of this emotion escaped from me that it dawned on me that our baby had died. I sat in the sand, absorbed in the rhythm of the waves, their sound, their motion, the sand they carried and placed upon the beach. I began to imagine myself as one of those grains of sand, with significance and insignificance attached with what was happening and my role within this process.
I kept travelling and found myself in Barwon Heads, in a restaurant, ordering a meal and eating it. The first meal in 5 months which I had been able to enjoy, and I knew then for certain that our baby had died. I returned home with calmness, walked to a friend’s house, to join our families in watching Geelong win the grand final. I mentioned to Skul what I thought had happened. On Monday we returned to our GP once again and she could not get a heartbeat. I was continuing to contract and decided somewhere in me that this was the movement of the baby also and although I knew deep within me, this hope was ever so important. After leaving my GP, I rang and asked my midwife if she could drop by at some stage to listen. It did not have to be that day, but in a day or two. She insisted coming that night and even changing plans for her husband’s birthday dinner. The commitment of women and their families who support women runs so very deeply. Lyn could find no heartbeat and very earnestly let me know that at this stage of pregnancy, 20 weeks, it is very unusual not to hear the little ones heart. I closed the door behind Lyn and howled. Skul was so sad.
On the Wednesday we went to the obstetrician appointment, knowing our baby had died, we just needed him to confirm it via ultra sound, which he did. Such an alien experience. We then sat down and he asked us what we wished to do. I still really wanted to birth this little one in our home, but the only way I was going to do this was to wait until my body recognised what had happened, to birth. And as this was a gentle death, not a sudden one from an accident, it could take up to 6-8 weeks for my body to birth. I was not sure that I could manage to wait that long. My other option was to enter hospital and be induced. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!! We left with many things on our minds. I began to go into research Stephanie mode and hunt out a woman, Melissa, who had become a friend in recent times who too had her little girl die at around 20 weeks. She so generously shared her story with me in detailed emotion. Sharing with me through her own experience, what one does, who they contact, what are the rights of me and my unborn dead child within a hospital system and because this little one was on the 20 week line, they were legally given ‘human’ status, so we had to deal with funeral homes, birth certificates, and death certificates. A great contact I made was HOPE Bereavement, groups set up to provide support for people whose children have died from SIDS, stillbirths, miscarriage. These people have great empathy and kindness.
So on the Thursday I decided that I would go into hospital and be induced and enter through the obstetrician, as my other option was to go through emergency. My midwife, who works also within the hospital system, said that she was happy to support us. Our obstetrician called us back that afternoon to confirm we were booked in for Friday morning. He asked what role I would like of him and I asked to use his name only, I did not want him involved in any other area. We had our midwife and felt safe with her. I was very worried that he would insert the pessaries and need to do vaginal examinations and if this was required I would much prefer a known person to do this. He was not that comfortable with my request, but he sat with it and once he had become familiar with whom our midwife was he felt at ease too. Her reputation precedes her. I did not see the obstetrician again in this journey.
The Thursday afternoon Melissa contacted me to offer me a Mother’s Blessing before birthing my baby. Initially I found this confronting and my ego struggled with the thought of the attention. Yet then I realised what an incredible journey to share with other women, in our sadness, grief, similarities and living, so I took her up on it. I gathered a small mob of women who came at incredibly short notice to share this journey with us on this Thursday evening. They all bought their divine energies, to give to my family, as Skul and Finn and Olegas too, shared this journey of overwhelming love. It was a magical evening and one I am so honoured to have this bestowed upon myself and my family. It helped our journey of healing and acceptance immensely .
Friday morning, we packed our bags, took photos of my 20 week pregnant stomach, my boys picked flowers from our garden and set them on the table and my dad came to be with our boys in the morning. Skul and I trudged off to the birthing centre with immense trepidation and fear of the unknown. Two other incredible women in my life were coming to care for Finn and Olegas that afternoon for as long as they were needed, my Cathy and Sandra. We entered the birthing suite and I laid out a gorgeous batik red birthing sheet on the bed lent to me by Melissa, set up my salt lamp, dropped my oils around the place, in particular Rose oil. I unpacked our belongings and the precious things to honour our baby with. I was given the pessaries, by Lyn, which were placed in my vagina, up the back, near the cervix and the bowel. Lyn stayed with us until we were settled and then went home, but was very kind in allowing us to call her when we needed to. And I was very needy of her, because I felt very much out of my depth. She also threaded the continuation of care from the midwives who were to hold our circle of safety within the hospital. It was such a kind experience. One of the midwives bought in clothes that are made for very small children and a box you could place your dead child in, but I could not look at these. And as I now know they bought too much reality to me of what I was actually doing in this place. I placed them under a table for the rest of the time and forgot about them. We waited for the required time to make sure all was okay and then took off to get a radical number of blood tests, so many that the woman withdrawing my blood from me, commented that she had never seen so many taken at one sitting. We then went to find some food, in attempt to distract us and build up our energy for the coming journey. Whilst sitting in the cafe I felt this warm liquid oozing from me and I could not work out whether it was coming from my vagina or my anus. I asked Skul if he could locate a toilet in the cafe. I was quite scared to move, but really had to. I get into the toilet and have full blown diarrhoea, pouring from my body, I just had to sit there and let it finish. After I felt safe again, we made our way back to the hospital, where I stayed and this room became my sanctuary, my cave. We lay around, we read, we slept, watched TV and nothing was really happening. Later that afternoon I was administered a second pessary, by another midwife connected to the thread. I thought this would really up the scenario, from previous induction experience, but it did not. I was not really grasping the reality of this situation and had no contact within my body at all, delving into house magazines and anything that would remove me from the now. Desperately wanting someone to tell me what was going to happen, what would my baby look like, I was way, way out of my depth and had no idea what to do.
Slowly, but surely, my uterus kicked into action and as the evening progressed contractions were happening, although not with regularity. I remember during one of the contractions which reached deep within me, I declared in a rather theatrical way “When this child is born, they will be called ‘Artemis the Ethereal”. Late into the evening, Skul got the birthing pool inflated and filled for me. I really wanted to be immersed in water and float away. We placed a few drops of rose oil in the water and this bought a kind and soft energy to this unknown journey. The water was a great relief to me on a security level, but the contractions definitely lessened when I was in there. I kept trying to connect with this unborn child and couldn’t and then realised, yet again that this child had already died.
I did not know where to go within myself. For when I had birthed previously, even under induction I knew that I had contact with the little being within me. Finally I had to get out of the pool as the contractions would lessen. I found myself on the toilet for the pressure in my vagina and anus was heavy. Here I stayed for quite a while, with pieces of the placenta, uterus or blood clots exited my body. At times large enough for me to think that I had birthed this little being. I am even sure I slept a little. Our midwife Lyn had come into the hospital again during the afternoon and returned again around midnight. The contractions were really happening but I felt like I had nowhere to go with them for this little being was only 20 weeks old and dead. I realised how frightened I was to birth him, in such fear of letting him go, not wanting this little child of ours out of my body, I wanted him to stay.
It was instinctively so very wrong, I was so sad. I could not birth him. I wanted to push him, but there was no pressure from inside to be felt. Lyn came back in and stayed with us for a while, bringing her calming way, which gave me a great sense of security and she helped me try to go inside. No, No, No. I changed positions again, now squatting with support from behind, I had all of my inspiration in front of me, birthing beads and the energy with them, my boys crystals, my Skul with me. I was becoming exhausted and really wondered if I was capable of continuing. ‘What were my other options?’ was running through my head. Lyn suggested that she leave us alone in our cave and that we get down and dirty to create a bit of natural oxytocin, the love hormone, as it was quite clear I had none. We laughed at the idea, for the situation seemed absurd and a little awkward, but we also gave it a good whirl. Skul did a bit of nipple stimulation on me, beautiful kissing and generally bringing a little bit of love into the room. I do believe this changed the atmosphere greatly and gave me the zest that I needed.
The contractions became more regular, I needed to be on the toilet again and eventually on the gym ball leaning onto the bed. It was definitely on for real and it hurt and was extremely raw, I was in full blown open cervix labour. Lyn did some amazing massage and manoeuvres on my lower back which bought about instant and full body relaxation. For I was still holding onto this little being, still not wanting him born. The pressure became more and more intense on my vagina and then my waters broke and I yelled “here we go”, thinking I had birthed our little being. The contractions continued and I had to let them do their job, I could not push, I had to completely concede to my body and what it was doing. The ball was removed and I was standing/squatting over the bed, Skul was at my rear.
A little foot was born first and then a leg and my beautiful man was there holding our dear little one. Skul said “he feels like a bird” as he cupped him in his hands, I could feel his tears running down my bottom cheek as Skul’s head rested on my body. The bottom next, his other leg, his body and head were born. Skul held him fully in his arms. I was so fearful of meeting him, of seeing him, so very scared I could not turn around. Skul and Lyn made this journey gentle for me. I managed to turn around, untangling myself from his umbilical cord and touched our Artemis. He was so cold and so, overwhelmingly beautiful.
And there I sat in a dimly lit room with Skul, Lyn and our third little boy at 20 weeks of age, who had eyebrows, a tongue, lovely lips, one eye open, the other shut, ten little fingers and ten little toes. He was born on 6 of October 2007, at 1:45am. Oh my, did the oxytocin run in then. I held him in my arms and I loved him fully. We explored him, held him to my chest, and kept him warm in blankets we had bought with us. It was a good hour before it dawned on me that there was no sound coming from him and I was shaken back to reality again. I had just birthed my dead baby. This is without question one of the deepest levels of intimacy I have ever shared with my beautiful man and we are so blessed to have shared this together.
The placenta took a good while. Loads of sitting on the toilet, blowing into bottles and finally quite a bit of tugging. It was a very unhealthy placenta, with only one bit of it remaining intact. Our little Artemis had fought so hard to hang on, but his placenta just could not hang in there. Looking back at my story I am quite sure I was pregnant with twins and my first bleed was a miscarriage from one. This also makes sense to me with the incredible level of illness I had during my pregnancy and the dragging of the placenta towards my cervix.
We sat with Artemis the Ethereal; he remained in my arms held close to my chest. I wrapped him in a traditional baby Maori paper made for me, by one of Skul’s sisters a few years prior to keep me in contact with my New Zealand heritage. This occasion was so appropriate to use it. He was further wrapped in a blanket I had bundled my first two boys up in and there he lay with us on the bed as we lay exhausted and in awe of what had just happened and the sitting in the present with this little one. I got up to go to the toilet and realised this deep feeling that there was no sound emitting for this little being, this shook me to my core and once again I was bought back to the now with a crash. Our baby had died and there would be no sound from him. Eventually we cuddled down in bed, with Artemis between us. I wanted desperately for Lyn to jump into bed with us, to comfort her, to share the love. She had shared a short but very intense journey with us and I wanted to let her know that things will be okay. I am eternally grateful for the love and cuddles her family gives her, to support women like myself. Because Lyn and the midwives like her need comforting, security and support through these journeys.
We awoke and again to the crashing feeling that our baby was not alive, yet my heart was still so full of love for him. We bathed him in warm water, filled with flower petals and rose oil, we explored him, took photos of him, honoured him, stroked him, and got to know him a little. We then wrapped him back in his Maori paper and blankets. Skul and I showered and dressed and rang our boys, Cathy and Sandra and asked for them to come in and meet Artemis, I was looking forward to seeing our Finn and Olegas, and for these 2 very special women to witness our child. I can only imagine for Cathy and Sandra how frightening and confronting this journey into the hospital must have been for them. They came very quickly and I am so appreciative of the outside world coming to us in our cave first before we had to go out there exposed to the world. Finn and Olegas were amazing; our children teach us so much in their truth and their questions. Olegas was in complete connection with Artemis, wanting to hold him, touch him, full of question about why and how he died, but completely accepting of this little being. Finn was a little more reserved, taking his own time, staying on Skul’s knee. I asked Finn if he wished to hold Artemis and he decided not to, so I just let it rest. And then in true form these 2 boys started to have brotherly arguments over who gets to sit in the chair in the sun. It made me smile that under these unusual circumstances these 2 boys acted so wonderfully normal, bringing ease and familiarity to an unknown scene. Cathy and Sandra, too held my little man and honoured him with their love, I will be ever truly grateful for this of them for their witnessing and love of our Artemis the Ethereal. Sandra took photos for us and Cathy filled us with food. We were truly loved and held. They were just about to leave, when Finn suddenly asked if he could hold Artemis. He sat on the bed with just me and cuddled him and bestowed him with his love. This love rose in me and poured from my eyes, my heart, and my soul.
It was then time to leave this cave and go home. We packed our belongings, whilst another gorgeous midwife came on, Tina, who held the leaving space for us and we had a brief but wonderful conversation about having Doula’s for the dying and their families. We packed our esky full of ice packs, placed the birthing sheet inside and then lay our Artemis on top. We were taking him home with us, to be in our house and become part of our family, physically for a little while. Although I dreaded someone asking me what we had in the esky. We came home to a house that smelt and felt of living, cooking smells, food everywhere, mattress on the floor in the sun for me to lye upon. Cathy ran me a bath, infused with magical herbs and bathed me whilst I cried and howled and wailed. Another dear friend had arrived by now, Katie and she too helped in bathing me. It was so extraordinary for these women to physically help me release some of this emotion and let me be completely held so I could collapse and not have to support myself anymore. Skul was being fed by these women too and Finn and Olegas wandered in and out, no doubt loving having a house full of people who gave them unconditional love. After bathing we lay Artemis out on our bed and explored him again, Cathy performed a Wiccan ritual for him which touches me still so very deeply inside and placed objects of honour and love with him for his journey. Thank you. Sandra witnessed this again and took images for us to remember. Thank you.
My family came to share with us, my dad was the first to arrive and I could see clearly through his held exterior that he was very deeply affected, concerned and uncomfortable. His sister and one of my cousins arrived from Bendigo, to sit with this day. I introduced them to Artemis, my dad hands trembled as he took his third grandson into his arms and explored him. I am ever so grateful for their witness too. But by that stage I felt he was only for us, I needed to keep him secure and in a place without judgment.
During the next week, our Artemis, rested in the esky next to our bed. I tended to him several times a day. Finn and Olegas would give him cuddles and ask many questions. We pondered what to do next and set about preparing his cremation journey. Skul, Finn and Olegas made a special box for his final resting place and once this was finished we all painted our own images and expression on this box. During this time my milk came in with full force and it was like some torture the universe was putting me through again. I had breasts full of squirting milk and no baby to nourish this with, it broke my heart. Many thoughts were running through my head and one of the main fixations was how I could keep Artemis with me, so I started to discuss the idea of pickling or mummification. How challenging for Skul, I do not think he knew where to go with me at this point. He just kept on steadily building and grieving through his own journey whilst holding the space for expression.
The day had come to cremate our Artemis the Ethereal, so we spent the morning preparing him, bathing him, washing him, and loving him. Finn and Olegas were so present for this journey, this difficult unfair and heartbreaking journey. I had expressed a bottle of milk to go with him in his resting box and we lay with him the many gifts people had bestowed upon him. He was surrounded in love and beauty, fresh flowers, beads, bracelets, anklets, crystals, oils etc. I had spoken to the funeral directors that morning in regards to their need to view him, at which they said they did not and I was still scheming on how to make him stay with us physically. Dad was to meet us at the crematoria, so Skul and I packed ourselves and our 3 boys into our Ute and took the journey. Olegas was becoming very anxious and disturbed at what we were doing with Artemis. For as he understood fire was hot and you would get burnt, so why would we do this to his little brother, it was quite upsetting for him and truly bought home the relationship which Olegas had developed with this little being whilst he was inside of me and once born. We met dad and in a very simple experience placed Artemis onto the cold stainless steel trolley in his closed beautiful resting box with sunflowers from our garden laid on top, and tried to hang to him as long as possible. His ashes are still with us, we have released some into Bass Strait with Skul’s family in Tassie and when the time is right we lay the remainder of them to rest in our own space.
This was now seven months ago and as I write this it brings such emotion to the forefront, as do all of my birthing experiences. Yet I am truly grateful for this experience along with the birth of our Finn and Olegas. I am not alone in the death of a child, it is an experience which many women share and have shared with me since this and this is a privilege I hold close in my heart. Artemis’s short life came with such pure love under a sad and tragic experience. I would not change it if I could, and somehow we do not live with a heavy sadness in our hearts, but have truly embraced the gifts we have been given in this journey. His death too, allowed us to treat death in a manner which we believe it should be treated, with truth, honour, openness and respect in our continual journey of existence on this earth.
