This is a re-post from my previous blog. Events and encounters recently have drawn me to revisit it for a number of reasons. I wrote this in May of 2014, a little under a year before I qualified as a midwife. This experience and my subsequent experiences relating to it have played their part in defining my practice as a midwife. For me it is one of the most important events I have written about. In memory of Baby X and the other angel babies…May 5th 2014
Earlier this year I observed an autopsy of an infant girl. This is my response to the encounter. There are no identifying comments in the text. My assumption is of cot death though of course this is not diagnosable at point of autopsy.
I lost my own brother to cot death when I was 5 years old. I remember him vividly and I remember his absence in our home just as clearly. Our lives were never the same again; his loss is still felt now nearly 30 years later. Seeing Baby X brought so much of the pain back into stark focus and I wondered if the mortician had treated my brother so kindly and with such respect. I hope so. I wrote this letter because I was shocked by the violence of my feelings. I was literally knocked sideways by the strength of them and they seemed to have no resting place. I started to write the letter in my head and began to find some peace as I acknowledged her life and paid my respects. I can’t bring her back to life, I can’t heal the pain of her parents but I can lay to rest my own feelings. She matters and that is what my own heart needed to know.
Dear Baby X,
I wanted to write to tell you about the last time I saw you… the first and last time I ever met you. I have to confess to being unprepared for such a significant moment in my life but I want you to know that you changed my life and I will never be the same again.
I started to feel nervous as I got changed into scrubs to enter the mortuary, doubting the wisdom of coming but there was no going back and before I knew it I was walking into the room where you lay. I was first drawn to your sweet little face, long eyelashes resting gently on your rosy cheeks, for the life of me I would swear you looked asleep and my instinct was to pick you up and wrap you up warm because Baby you looked too cold on that table. Your hands were laid by your sides, fingers gently curled as if they had just let go, I imagined reaching out and your fingers grasping my own.
The tubes and needles used to try to bring you back to life were still there, evidence of the battle to save you and bring you safely back to your Mummy’s arms where you belonged, but also a reminder that it wasn’t possible. Everything had been done but it wasn’t enough and you had already gone.
The mortuary technician was so gentle with you and though you can’t feel it any more, he was careful not to hurt you. He told me the story of your passing and I thought about your family and my heart hurt with their pain of losing you.
The procedure itself was hard to watch but I stayed with you and thought of the life you were meant to have, of the potential in your little body and in your face which looked so ready to smile and giggle. I imagined the happiness you had already undoubtedly brought to your family and the memories they will be holding on to, and though it may take them a little while to smile again, when they do it will be because they remember you.
When the time came for me to leave, I knew I was leaving you in good hands. That your body would be respected and treated with dignity, and returned to your Mummy so she can say her last goodbyes.
Most of all I wanted to let you know that you matter more than you’ll ever know. I am… was a stranger to you and your family, but you touched my heart and I am grateful for you.
I'd like to say I'm surprised bit unfortunately I'm not. Today is the day that Facebooks double standards strike again. The Leaky Boob, a wonderful online breastfeeding support community has had its pages disabled. Apparently it is perfectly acceptable for a page to stay online that gratuitously celebrates leering at breasts, but a community of like minded women supporting one another is deemed obscene. What's going on? In many countries in the world now its illegal to move on a breastfeeding woman (UK, Indonesia, some US States to name a few) so why can't Facebook get with the program? Facebook listen to us! There is nothing obscene about breastfeeding! We show less boob than most clothes you'll see out and about on a club night in town. Its been amazing to see the wave of support come out, with literally 1000's of people signing up to temporary pages in support of The Leaky Boob and its still early days. Never underestimate the power of commun
(November 2016b) Recently I was introduced to the concept of ‘Hygge’, or rather I was recently introduced to the word to describe a principle I realise I already aim to live by. On reflecting on the topic further I made the connection also to my midwifery practice – I often receive feedback from women that I help them to feel ‘safe’ and for me safety in my personal life is wrapped up in the safeguards of my close-knit family life and community of friends. Hygge is a Danish word and is virtually impossible to pronounce in English but you will recognise the feeling of cosiness, intimacy, woolly socks and hot chocolate around an open-fire-ness even if you haven’t been to Denmark, apparently the happiest country in the world. It occurred to me that Hygge and Midwifery were a duo demanding a little extra attention. Photo credit: http://www.chatelaine.com/living/hygge-danish-concept-could-make-winter-more-bearable/ After a busy couple of shifts, I am simultaneously overwhelmed w
Well it really has been a while since I last blogged here. A couple of reasons really... Twitter being a bit of a culprit but hey ho. You can find me on there by the way if you like. I have imaginatively called myself @michelletant LOL The other reasons include my all consuming midwifery course. I kid you not, it has the potential to completely take over your life. Plus of course my family. So I am here today for an update of sorts. You may have read my post about my son with (amoung other things) sensory processing disorder ( http://michelletant.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/supermarket-meltdowns.html ) and we have been going through the statementing process with him. What that means it that we applied for a 'Statement of Additional Needs'. You have to apply through the county and it has to sort of be done on your behalf by the agencies involved with the child. So in our case it was the Speech and Language Therapist, the Occupational Therapist, the Educational Pyschologiest, t
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