Alexander's Story (Born Still 28-04-08)
I need to share this story. Too often people assume I do not want to talk about it or I guess it is too confronting to talk about the death of a baby. However, we will never have the opportunity to complain about sleepless nights or boast about milestones, so I feel it is important to share what little we have. This is our story of Alex's short life.
"Lauchy needs a little brother or sister", was how I approached the subject of extending our family. I knew that hubby was ready for another child but perhaps just needed a little nudge in the right direction. It didn't work in with university or work plans, but we were ready. You can't plan a family around your job, you need to plan your job around your family. We were lucky to conceive quickly and I delighted in the reaction on my husband's face when he opened my letter that enclosed the positive pregnancy test.
We tried to conceal the pregnancy until the twelve week mark, but a few faint spells and morning sickness revealed our secret early. It was a remarkably healthy pregnancy. I had not been so fortunate previously, so I relished being an expectant mother and showed off my bump with pride. We found out that we were having a 'grubby boy' and were told that he was quite a large boy at that. It was on the way home from that scan that we named him Alexander, a good strong name meaning 'guardian of men'. We thought this very appropriate as he was obviously lively, big and healthy.
Delighted to be having another boy we discussed how the brothers would undoubtedly be a handful and wondered what trouble they might get into as they grew. My brother joked about the 'Dane brothers' causing havoc and terrorising their cousins. Already I was beginning to worry how I would cope. Alex was so active in utero, imagine what life was going to like when he was born.
Plans were made. We had to move house because we didn't have enough room. We moved Lauchy into his big boy bed so that we could free up the cot for Alex. The nursery was decorated in a nautical theme. A room of blue, red and white with boats and bunting and oars upon the wall. I washed all the clothes and ironed everything from the cot sheets to the baby towels. I still can't believe that, at this point, my biggest concern was coordinating the bedding with the theme.
So many people saw how active Alex was. My sister-in-law from Scotland stayed with us for a few weeks and spent one evening in awe of Alexander swimming laps in my belly. I grew bigger and bigger, but with the awkwardness grew the bond. I talked and sang to Alex all the time. My husband loved placing his mouth right next to Alex and growling, "Who's your Daddy?" and then watched to see feet and hands thumping about. Lauchlan lay against my tummy and while drifting off to sleep got angry when his little brother kicked him in the back and woke him.
Towards the end of the pregnancy, I grew impatient and tired. If only I had known what was to come, I would have appreciated what I had at that point. Within the last two weeks, Alex became less active. I was monitored and there, on the cardiograph showed a healthy heartbeat. "It is probably the lack of room that is slowing him down," I was reassured by a midwife. Two weeks later, I suspected that something wasn't right. Again, I hadn't felt much movement. So we went into the hospital and sure enough, Alex started kicking around and again a healthy heartbeat was found. "Perhaps I'm just being a bit precious," I thought to myself and felt a bit foolish troubling the hospital. It was the following day that I went into labour.
I'm not exactly sure when Alex died. I had felt slow movements that morning but when I started getting contractions in the afternoon, I just assumed that all had quietened down because of the onset of labour. I calmly had a bath and we arranged for Lauchlan to go to his Grandparents house for the night. At about nine o'clock we set off for the hospital. My husband quickly rang his parents in Scotland to tell them they were about to become Grandparents again.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was greeted by our midwife who took us to the labour ward and I was hooked up to the CTG. She was having great difficultly finding Alex's heartbeat and so went to get another midwife to assist. Unable to detect the heartbeat, a scalp probe was going to be put in place, but the contractions were getting stronger making it too difficult to remain still. Finally an ultrasound revealed the unimaginable. "I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat." These were the only words that I heard. Following that, the midwives told us what was to happen and the doctors reconfirmed that Alexander had died, but none of their words really sunk in.
How on earth can you continue on after such life shattering news? We knew we had to get through the labour and my husband and I worked in survival mode. I was offered pain relief and accepted an epidural. This prolonged the labour and it was only when I started getting feeling back at about 7:00am that I was fully dilated and ready to push. I was only given one hour to push, because I had previously had a caesarean section. If I hadn't birthed Alex by 8:00am, they were going to perform the surgery. I was not going to allow it, not after that long night. It was my midwife who understood and, to her credit, she kept the Doctor's at bay, even when the hour had elapsed. I gave birth to Alex at 8:36am.
He was placed upon my stomach, just as a live baby would have been. He looked so pink and big but the room was so, so quiet. I try to remember him as he was at that moment. He looked as though he was sleeping. We held him and looked at all his fingers and toes. He was a beautiful baby. We confirmed that he was a boy and we cried for everything we had just been through and what had been stolen from us.
The short time we had with Alexander in the hospital we spent holding and talking to him. I since wish that I had of bathed him or read him a story. Only after a short time, he looked lifeless. The paleness of his skin, his very dark lips and sunken skull did not reflect the baby we had first set our eyes upon. The hospital made up a small memory book which included his hand and foot print, a lock of hair and some photos. We have so little to remember him by, so these small items are very special to us.
I have kept a few small tokens to remember Alex, not that we would forget him. I keep a small lock of hair in my locket, we arranged for a plaster cast of his hand and foot and we are having a sketch drawn up to display. It is important that he be remembered as our son, as a person. As my father said at the funeral:
"When people come and talk, have them refer to me by name, I'm not 'it' or 'him' or 'bub' or 'he', I am Alexander Dane".
