False Laoise’s Story The following is the story of the birth of Claire and Niall Buckley’s fi rst Child, Laoise. Laoise was stillborn on April 2nd 1999. We would like to thank Claire and Niall for allowing us the privilege of sharing Laoise’s story with you. When Niall and I found out that we were expecting our fi rst baby, we were absolutely ecstatic. However, I worried whether everything would go well right from the outset. I was extremely sick but everybody kept telling me that this was a good sign. I counted the weeks and was delighted when I got to 14 and had my fi rst hospital visit. At 16 weeks, back in January, we went for our fi rst scan and it was the best day of our lives to see our little baby moving around on the screen. We were told that everything was fi ne. We got the scan image and couldn’t stop looking at it. At last, I felt I could relax and really enjoy my pregnancy and look forward to our baby. At 23 weeks, I went for my next hospital visit. My doctor said she would scan me to see how the baby was doing. I didn’t expect to be scanned so I was very excited that I was going to see my baby again and I wished that Niall were with me to share it. The doctor took the measurements over and over again and it kept showing that the baby was only 20 weeks in size. She did not seem overly concerned but she did say that I should come back in 3 weeks for her to have another look at the growth rate, to see if it had increased, decreased or stabilised. She told me that there was nothing she could do at that time, as the baby was too small to be viable. Of course I was completely panicked so I went to my GP the next morning and she advised me to take the three weeks off work and rest and eat well and keep a note of all the movements. That’s what I set out to do. I also read everything I could get my hands on about Intra Uterine Growth Retardation. For the fi rst 10 days I felt good ( the sickness had fi nally worn off) and there was lots of movement, which gave me hope. Then for a couple of days the movement really fell off and I went back to the GP with a sinking feeling. She found the heartbeat after several minutes and I went home again, feeling a little more positive. In retrospect, I really only felt active movement for 3 more days after that but I didn’t consciously think about what this meant. I prayed constantly and tried to think positively to give my baby every chance. Four days before I was due to go back to the hospital, I woke up at 5.30. a. m and it was as if I heard a voice telling me that my baby was gone. I became very distressed and Niall, who was going out to work then, was very worried about me. I managed to calm myself down and tell him I was ok, but as soon as he left I broke down again. I didn’t tell anyone about the voice, not even Niall, because I thought that if I didn’t say it out loud it wouldn’t be true. I made the decision myself to wait until the hospital appointment because I didn’t want to be rushed in and have to face up to the facts. The day of the appointment arrived and we were sick with worry. As soon as the doctor started scanning me I knew the worst was confi rmed. Niall got a dreadful shock when she said the baby had died whereas I suppose I was somewhat prepared, even though to have it confi rmed was the worst moment of my life. We went home that evening and I went straight to bed. I lay awake all night saying to myself that this was the last night I would have my baby with me. I felt completely numb, but I kept rubbing my tummy and talking to my baby saying that I was sorry. My mum drove us to the hospital the next day, April 1st and I was given tablets to induce me. Later the chaplain came and blessed our unborn child and us and told us that we would have to say hello before we could say good- bye. That afternoon I got very upset when I realised that we had nothing at all for our baby. We knew that we couldn’t get clothes small enough, so I asked mum to go out and buy us a shawl or a blanket so our baby could at least have something of his own ( until the minute she was born, I was convinced we would have a baby boy.) Niall slept in a chair beside my bed that night as we waited. We wondered what had happened to our poor baby. Had she some terrible disease? What would she look like? The night seemed endless and still nothing was happening. Finally our daughter Laoise was born at 10.20a. m. on April 2nd. I will never forget the silence. The only sound was the clinking of the midwifes medical instruments. The midwife was calm and gentle and told us that our baby had been born and she would clean her for us to see her. She wrapped her in a little white sheet. We both took turns in holding her and it broke my heart to see the tenderness with which Niall cradled his daughter. It occurred to me that up until then he was mostly worried about me whereas I only had Laoise to worry about and now she was here he could fi nally connect with her and grieve for the daughter he had lost. I was the lucky one. I had carried her for six months, felt her kicking. When I held her, I couldn’t believe how somebody so perfectly formed could be so tiny and so light, just under a 1lb. With the midwifes guidance we examined every part of her. She was almost 12 inches long. She had fair eyebrows like her daddy and a nose and mouth like mine. It was amazing to see the resemblances given that she was so small. We had long decided that if we had a little girl she would be called Laoise. In Irish legend, Laoise was the daughter of Con, which is Niall’s real name and it also means “ Radiant Girl”, which is what she will always be to us. The chaplain came and christened Laoise. It was a lovely service. I really felt that this was our only chance to be together as a family and my heart was isands newsletter 74

False broken. The chaplain asked the nurse to fi nd a Polaroid camera and she came back and took 4 photos. Only one of them is at all clear and it is, of course, our most treasured possession now. I called my mum but the phone was engaged. I then called my sister on her mobile and told her that she had a little niece. She was very upset and asked me if she could come in and see her. I thought about this for a few seconds and then said no. I remember feeling that it should be just the three of us, Niall, Laoise and I. I have gone back and forwards between regretting this decision and thinking it was the right one ever since. I found out afterwards that Deirdre had a camera with her, we could have had so many more photos of Laoise. I also think that Deirdre should have had the privilege of seeing Laoise because she was and continues to be the best support that I have had. However, I also thought that it would be unfair for members of my family to see her and not Niall’s. ( With the exception of one brother, his family are outside of Dublin and had not yet arrived up.) The chaplain advised us to set a time to say good- by to Laoise. We decided on an hour later, which at the time seemed ages. Our doctor arrived and examined Laoise and said that she appeared to be perfect. She asked me to sign the forms for the post- mortem, saying that since it was our fi rst baby it was very important for our future to fi nd out if there was anything wrong with her. When the hour was up, the midwife that had delivered her came back and we wrapped her up, we cuddled her and kissed her good- bye. I didn’t even think to ask where they were taking her. I fervently wish that we had had more time with her. Ever since, I have struggled so hard to remember every detail of Laoise as she was then and I just think it would be easier if we had had more time. I also wish that we had more photos, and that we had asked for the white sheet that she was wrapped in as soon as she was born so that we would have something that was close to her. The next few days went by in a daze as we organised Laoise’s funeral. Niall’s mum came from Limerick and his sister from Mayo. I was glad when they arrived, as I was very conscious that I had my family around me but Niall hadn’t his. We decided to bury Laoise in the cemetery near where my parents live, because we thought that we might move some day but they were unlikely to, she would always have someone close by. The day before she was buried, Niall and I went to the mortuary to see Laoise for the fi rst time since she was born. The gentleman in the mortuary was so kind and compassionate. My sister Deirdre, who was to have been Laoise’s godmother, had bought a christening bracelet for her. It was engraved with her name and Deirdre wanted us to put it in the casket with Laoise. The gentleman in the mortuary put it on Laoise’s wrist and he also placed a white rosebud from our wreath in her hands. We both tucked her in and closed the coffi n. This was truly the most diffi cult thing I have ever had to do. Niall later said that the most diffi cult thing for him was carrying her coffi n from the car to the grave. Eight months later, we are working hard to come to terms with our loss, each of us dealing with it in very different ways. I have read many books, looked up a lot on the Internet and been to ISANDS parent’s nights. I take a lot of consolation from listening to and reading about other people’s stories. Even though medical circumstances differ, the grief and emotions seem to be very similar in most cases. Niall prefers to deal with his grief in his own way. We have both been for counselling and it has helped. We have learned a lot about ourselves and about other people. There is a small core of people who continue to be there for us and talk to us about Laoise, but most people seem to have moved on and assume that we are moving on too. Laoise will always be a part of our lives, she will always be our fi rst baby. We will always miss her and never forget her. Even though we wish she was with us still, having her for such a short time was infi nitely better than not having her at all. She has changed our lives and strengthened our love. We are going to have the following verse on her headstone: Our joys will be greater, Our lives will be fuller, Our love will be stronger Because we shared your moment. Claire Buckley. isands newsletter 75