Dear Henry,
Sometimes I imagine you are now in Neverland, the land where children never grow up. I hope you’re flying around there with Tinkerbell and playing pranks on Peter Pan. I think it’s a great idea that you can always remain a child there, although I would have liked to see you grow up. You were very welcome with us, your room was almost ready, your clothes were already hanging in the closet. Dad and I have been together for a long time – I was seventeen, he was twenty – and we wanted to be parents right away, but first we had to get things right for you. We finished our education, bought a house together… When I had my IUD removed, I thought: finally we can! And how lucky that I was pregnant after two months. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about you. You grew well and we immediately enjoyed you immensely, very consciously. We’ve had a lot of fun echoes made so you don’t miss a thing. Overdone? Maybe, but now I’m really glad we did.
Papa and I were on a pink cloud, until that horrible echo. The midwife searched and searched with the ultrasound machine, but could not find your heart that time. Where we normally heard the racing of your heartbeat clearly and saw you move quite a lot, it now remained dead silent. It was like being on a roaring train that crashed into a wall out of nowhere. How could this happen? We had to tell family, arrange everything at once. I wanted to give birth as soon as possible, I couldn’t bear the thought of you sitting lifeless in my belly. Later in the hospital it turned out that the placenta was not working properly and that almost all the amniotic fluid had disappeared. Oh darling, you must have had a hard time in there these last few weeks. I felt so guilty for a while. I missed something, I thought, why didn’t I notice that you had stopped growing? Two days before that fateful ultrasound, I still felt you very busy moving. Were you trying to explain something to me that way? I console myself with the thought that babies don’t experience pain until they are born.
You were placed on my chest after a rapid but painful delivery. For two hours you lay with me and I just looked at you. You were tiny, 1575 grams, skin and bones, and you weren’t cool anymore. Your skin had wounds and was very delicate, but to me you were the most beautiful child in the world. Besides sadness, I also felt a lot of pride. Look, this is my baby, I wanted to say to everyone. Just before you were driven away from me, I sang softly You’ve got a friend in me for the last time. I often sang that song to you when you were in my tummy.
During the ceremony, a week later, there were fifty people for you, as many as possible because of corona. Dad and I felt supported by our dear family and friends. For the very last time I gave you three kisses: one for today, one for tomorrow and one until we meet again.
I miss you terribly, dear Henry. I hope you miss us too, but not too much. Sometimes I am overcome by a fit of crying. When I went to work a few weeks after you were born, I thought: what am I doing here? I was still on leave. Now I take time to mourn. Your room is still completely intact, Daddy and I hope to have a little brother or sister for you one day. Would your soul wait to return to us? I hope so.
I love you mother
The Aya Memoriam Foundation makes photo reports free of charge and offers grief support to parents of stillborn children. ayamemoriamfoundation.nl