Berty's Story
This isn't something I ever thought I would be writing and it's probably something you never thought you would be reading. Everyone has very mixed and different thoughts and reactions when a new pregnancy is announced, often dependent on that person's own view's, experiences and relationship with those making the announcement. However, unless that person has already been impacted by the loss of a baby, they are highly unlikely to worry or think about the possibility of that pregnancy ending in loss.
If you find yourself here, I am so sorry. I'm sorry as this does not tend to be something you come looking for unless the worst has already happened and I wish it was something that no one had to experience on any level. But also, thank you. Thank you for being here and taking some time to read our story.
I am going to try and make this as short and easy to read as possible. If you are interested in reading more then you can get to our blog. Where I will go into a lot more depth about the pregnancy and loss of Berty, as well as life after.
Berty's Daddy and I had been trying to conceive for a year before we fell pregnant with Berty. New Year's Eve Eve 2019 we took a pregnancy test and saw the two lines we had been longing for and everything was going perfectly. We had the first scan and cooed at the shimmering blob on the screen that just about resembled a baby and we eagerly shared our news with the world. Then England went into Lockdown. I was lucky enough to be able to work from home whilst Berty's Daddy faced new challenges at work. Berty's Daddy couldn't attend the 20 week scan so I went alone whilst he waited in the car. Everything was perfect with the scan again and I was told we were going to have a baby boy. I didn't tell Berty's Daddy this until a few weeks later when a confetti cannon arrived and we did our very own 'gender reveal' which we filmed and sent to family and friends and posted excitedly on Social Media.
The week's flew by for me. I hated being locked in but I was constantly in the company of Berty who kept me entertained with all his big kick's, hits and rolls, though I was disappointed that I was unable to share any of this with friends or family. Eventually the first lockdown lifted and I was super excited when a friend arranged to visit and stay the night. She was going to be the first friend to see my bump in person and hopefully feel Berty kick. When my friend arrived at 7pm that night I waited excitedly for Berty to move so I could let her have a feel, but this never happened. I was becoming a little worried by the time 11pm came round and we decided it was time for bed. I lay there for an hour trying to get a response as my anxiety slowly started to grow. This was incredibly unusual for Berty, which is what I told the midwives on the phone just before midnight, who advised me to come straight in.
Berty's Daddy had to wait in reception whilst I watched a midwife and then a Junior Doctor scan my belly for life before they took me to seperate room and invited him to join us. He was followed in by 4 other midwives and another more senior consultant who gathered around to watch my scan. Though I didn't dare admit it, I knew that the worst had already happened and this sudden change in tactics only confirmed this to me.
The senior consultant scanned my belly for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she put down the scanner and let out a long exhale before saying gently 'I'm sorry... there is no heartbeat'. I stared at her and whispered 'what does that mean?' but I knew full well what it meant. I just wanted it to be wrong. She looked shocked and nervous before carefully saying 'it means your baby has died.' I didn’t know what I was meant to do. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. I couldn't do or say anything other than look at my husband as silent tears streamed down my face.
Berty was born 3 days later on the 25th July 2020 at 3:09am. He weighed 5lb5oz and was 52cm's long. He looked like his Daddy and even had his ginger hair and finger toes, but had my nose. He was perfect.​
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We spent the whole of that day with him. I dressed him with the help of the midwives and we made memories thanks to the beautiful memory boxes donated by 4Louis charity which we are able to use to share some of these memories and moments with our friends and family who were unfortunately unable to meet Berty due to the Coronavirus restrictions in the hospital.
At 5pm after signing a load of paperwork, a Midwife came into our room before we left. She stayed with Berty as we left him, which is the hardest thing either of us have ever had to do. As we moved down the corridor we overheard the Midwife talking to him and for that we are eternally grateful, as he wasn't left alone.
We agreed for his body to be sent for a post-mortem which took two weeks, this, however found no reason for his death. We also agreed for any parts tested to be used for research. He was then sent to a mortuary but we weren't invited to see him. I don't know if this was because of the Covid restrictions or if I was meant to ask. But we didn't see him again until the day of his funeral. Even then he was in a closed casket which his Daddy carried into the church where we were joined by 6 family members. Berty was cremated and his ashes were returned a month later.
At the time of writing this, it has been 5 months, and 19 days since Berty was born silently into our world, which has forever been changed. There has not been a day where we do not think of him and there never will be. He was and always will be our first baby.​
We have been so lucky to have support from so many friends and family, but the truth is, this loss is so hard to understand if you have never experienced it. I don't have all the answers and everyone has their own response to grief and loss. There cannot be a 'one size fit's all' approach to this, but one thing I hear time and time again from many in the baby loss community, and from our own experience, is the pain felt by bereaved parents and families when those around them ignore or undermine the death of their baby. Thinking back to before the loss of Berty I know I probably would have been the same. You think; if I mention the baby I will upset them or that they probably don't want to think about them, they need distracting. Or maybe you just don't know what to say and it's easier to talk about the weather. But unfortunately, this often has the opposite effect of what is intended.
Every time I have seen someone or spoken to someone for the first time since the loss of Berty, it feels as though Berty is the elephant in the room. I'm good at hiding these thoughts but at times they can become obsessive for me, and if I don't get the relief of talking about my baby, it can build up and can put me back to a stage where I just want to give up and hide under my duvet all day. But I hate doing this too and this just leads to even bigger problems for myself. But when I get the chance to talk about Berty I often find a new wave of motivation and inspiration which has led to the creation of this site.
By talking openly about Berty and our loss in this blog, both Berty's Daddy and I hope to do the following:
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Raise awareness of baby and pregnancy loss and the impact this can have on those who lose a baby.
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Encourage those who know someone that has lost a baby/pregnancy to be more confident in supporting their person and giving their person a safe space to talk about their baby that died and recognising them as parents.
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To raise money for charities that fund research into preventing baby loss and supporting the parents who have suffered a baby or pregnancy loss.
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Taking any chance we can to say Berty's name and encouraging others to do the same for all babies who sadly were gone from the world too soon.
