Eves StoryIn April 2008 we found out I was pregnant with our second baby. We were over the moon. As the weeks went by I prepared our toddler for the arrival of his little sister. I had a normal pregnancy and was very active throughout, all hospital appointments were normal and there were no complications. The weeks were spent dreaming of the little girl who was to enter our lives just before Christmas, the best Christmas we were going to have - our little family of four. We had so much to look forward to and life was just great. I was scheduled to have a c-section on 9th December 2008. On Wednesday 3rd December I went to my consultant for my last scheduled visit before my c-section. I will remember his words for as long as I live "baby is in a fi ve star hotel there, doing great" he said. He turned up the volume and I heard her familiar and re-assuring heartbeat. I went home the happiest girl in the world; I was days away from meeting my new baby. That night I commented to my husband on her movements and how bizarre it still all seemed that she was nearly here. I was 37wks and 6 days pregnant - 'nearly there' as people would comment, on the 'home stretch'. Thursday 4th December tells a very different story. As soon as I woke up I knew that she had been quiet all night, I hadn't been up during the night which was odd. She didn't move during the day, as the hours passed I knew I needed to go in to the hospital for a quick check, I dropped my son off and drove over alone, I did put my bag into the boot thinking that if push came to shove I would be kept in. I texted my husband to let him know my plan. Ten minutes later my world had fallen apart. Midwives could not fi nd a heartbeat. Doctors could see no movement on an ultrasound. No one had to tell me what was next. My baby had died. My husband showed up in the hospital room shortly after and we sat staring at each other in the small room. I couldn't understand how this had happened and I was asking strange questions like whether they could deliver her and resuscitate her. I honestly never knew that little babies just died. We left and drove home, that night is still a blur. Friday 5th December we returned to that same hospital. Shortly before 1pm that day our daughter Eve was born. The silence in the delivery room is something we will remember forever. She never took a breath; her eyes were closed as though she were asleep. She was beautiful; she weighed 5lbs 7oz and had a full head of thick black hair exactly like her Daddy. She looked like a little doll, just perfect, nothing out of place - but the silence, the silence we will never forget. The following days were extremely traumatic and diffi cult. Eve was buried in the cemetery closest to our home on 11th December 2008. While we made the painful decision to have an autopsy, we have not discovered why Eve died which has been very hard to accept. What happened to her is defi ned as 'unexplained' - doctors have said that she died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) in utero.People say that the death of a child is the worst thing that any parent can endure and they don't lie - it is isolating and terrifying. We are trying to rebuild our life isands newsletter8

without her living with us. She is part of our lives and always will be, but she isn't here. I will remember how empty I felt, how empty our home felt, for as long as I live. The beginning of 2009 brought many diffi cult days for us - I found bank holiday weekends, Mothers day, St. Patrick's Day and Easter so, so hard. I wanted people to feel my pain. When Eve would have been 6 months old I ran the Flora Women's mini marathon with 16 of my family and friends in Eve's memory. We raised over ?7000 and it was a proud day for me, if nothing else it kept me focused for a while. I felt like I had been reborn, the life I knew was over and I had to fi nd my feet again. My confi dence had been ripped from under me, normal everyday tasks would leave me terrifi ed and anxious - how could I not have known my baby would die? What was wrong with me, did I not hear her struggle?? I struggled, and still struggle, with being physically separated from my child. The weather means so much to me now, on wet days or cold days I wonder if she is okay. I am just a mother.I used to wonder if I would ever smile again, ever enjoy a glass of red wine or a hot shower. I felt so utterly hopeless. For many months the only thing I even remotely enjoyed was being in the company of my son because it was the only part of me I still had left, but as the months have passed I am beginning to see that there are other nice things in life - the pain that surrounds Eve's birth and death is still there though, I do look forward to the day when I can refl ect on our much longed for and loved daughter and not have it hurt so much. ISANDS has been a wonderful support to us, for me in particular as I have found two wonderful friends I know I will cherish for life, all of us brought together through loving our babies not with us.Sweet, tiny, precious little Eve, just know our love goes deep and strong.We'll forget you never-The child we had, but never had, And yet we'll have forever.Liz Cronin (Nolan)Eve's hand in her Daddy's hand