Samuel's Story
Simon and Yvette McClean

Today is the 8^th March 2006. It’s Samuel’s 2^nd birthday, but we won’t be having a party. Instead we will be taking some flowers with us to the Snowdrop garden at Poole cemetery.

Samuel was our first baby. I was quite excited at being pregnant. A whole new experience, full of expectations. As I’m an older mum we had a nucal fold scan at 12 weeks. Watching our baby turning round on the screen was fascinating. A tiny being that I couldn’t feel yet doing roly-polies inside me. We anxiously waited for the sonographer to do her measurements, but were reassured when we fell into the low risk category for Down’s syndrome. The baby was growing normally. It felt safe to tell everyone we were expecting a baby in July.

The pregnancy continued uneventfully. I had my blood tests and met my midwife. I had a healthy appetite “eating for two” and luckily didn’t feel sick. It was fun watching my belly slowly expanding.

On 3^rd March 2004 I had an appointment for a 20-week scan, just routine, or so we thought, but it would become a day that would change our lives forever. Both me and my husband Simon work at Bournemouth Hospital so we were just going to pop along to the ante-natal clinic for the scan and then pop back to work, what I didn’t know was I wouldn’t return to work for a month. The sonographer was very thorough, doing lots of measurements and taking photographs. We were there for ages. My tummy hurt where the sonographer was pushing down so hard. As the 12-week scan had been fine you automatically assume the 20-week one will be too. He left us alone in the room for a while. I remember looking at Simon, something just wasn’t right. He returned and took some more measurements, then told us that something was wrong with our baby. It’s difficult to explain your feelings. Numbness, shock, disbelief, time stands still, you feel all alone, bewildered, you ask yourself why us? What went wrong? Could I have done something to affect my baby? The sonographer explained that our baby had Spina Bifida and Hydrocephalus. He explained that there are classic signs on the shape of the baby’s body. The brain is the shape of a lemon where part of it protrudes into the base of the skull and there is an opening on the back at the base of the spine. He showed us these signs on the screen. He also confirmed that we were expecting a little boy. I had read in one of the antenatal books to always seek a 2^nd opinion, if you receive bad news during a scan. So in a haze of mixed emotion we were tacked on to the end of the consultants list in 2 days time.

So we went home to try and make sense of our devastating news. We were just getting used to being parents and now we had to make some tough decisions about our baby’s future. We surfed the Internet for more information and phoned close family and friends for a bit of moral support. In the end it came down to Simon and me. We supported each other, as whatever we decided now we would have to live with for the rest of our lives. I had gone to school with someone who had Spina Bifida. Mentally he was fine, but physically he never walked unaided and had no bladder or bowel control. His mum did everything for him; she didn’t have a job and never had any more children. So from first hand experience I knew what to expect our baby to be like, but I knew mentally he would’ve been much, much worse than my school friend. We also had to decide a name for our little boy. So after an agonising few days we decided to end the pregnancy.

 We returned to the same scan room on the Friday. Luckily we were at the end of the list, so I didn’t have to see any other expectant mothers in the antenatal waiting room. The consultant confirmed everything the sonographer had said previously our baby would be severely disabled and we told him of our decision. After a lot of waiting around a doctor was found to sign the prescription for the drug used to induce me. I had to sign a consent form to confirm I knew what I was doing. In some people’s eyes I will be condemned for killing my baby, but we believe that quality of life is important and our baby’s life would not have been one you would wish on anyone.

I took the pill and we left the antenatal clinic again. There was no going back - events would take their course. The roller coaster ride that we had started when we were told of our baby’s condition was gathering speed. We arranged to return Sunday morning. You feel so alone. We cried some more for what was about to happen and for the baby who was never to be. The risks of Spina Bifida are reduced by taking folic acid at the beginning of the pregnancy. I even took folic acid while I was still on the pill just in case I fell pregnant immediately after coming off the pill. It made no difference in our case. The literature states the risks are reduced, it doesn’t say eliminated. It was nobodies fault, it was just bad luck.

On Sunday morning we arrived at the maternity ward. We had a room to ourselves, a bit like a hotel room with settee, double bed and ensuite shower room. Everything was made as relaxed as possible. I was given a pessary to induce the pregnancy and we waited. The midwife said our baby (who we had decided to call Samuel) would probably arrive late on Sunday or early Monday morning. I was on a morphine drip for the pain, but remember getting some sleep with Simon next to me. It was difficult having babies crying next door in the maternity unit. I had no urge to push. I suppose subconsciously I didn’t want to be there. It was too early for Samuel to be born, but he was going to arrive whether I liked it or not.

In the afternoon I thought I should go to the toilet, as I hadn’t been for sometime. A different midwife had advised me to take a bedpan withy me because sometimes the baby coming can feel like a bowel movement. She was right! Samuel was almost born down the toilet. I could feel his tiny arms and legs moving beneath me, Simon called for help and Samuel was born at 14:53 on Monday 8^th March 2004. Samuel was wrapped in a shawl, that my mum had knitted when she was expecting me, and given to Simon to hold. I was too preoccupied with the midwife, because the placenta was stuck. Eventually it came out with some coaxing.

Samuel’s father adds ….

….Once Samuel was wrapped in the Shawl he was passed to me. He was still trying to breath and I could see his heart beat through his chest. I must admit it came, as a bit of a surprise to me that he seemed so strong, we weren’t expecting him to survive the labour yet alone struggle so long to live. He was moving his arms around and trying to take what looked like big breaths, but deep down I knew his lungs weren’t developed enough for him to survive long. After about 10 minutes he died, as traumatic as it was to watch I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Those few minutes of holding my son while he was alive will be with me forever. I was able to tell him I loved him and hopefully he would of on some level known his parents were there with him at the end……

After he died we were left alone. A family together. We took photographs as Samuel was our first baby and we didn’t know if he would be our only child. We cried as we sat and held each other and looked with love at our tiny little boy. The midwife took Samuel to weigh him, he was only 13oz. He returned in a beautiful moses basket. The midwife asked if we wanted to see Samuel’s back. I wanted to be sure, to confirm that we had made the right decision and there was a lesion on his back, I needn’t have worried everything looked just as the sonographer had said. Samuel was perfect in his imperfection.

Going home was very difficult without our baby. There was an empty space where Samuel should have been. Explaining to people how your baby died was hard. My milk came through which added insult to injury! We are very lucky to have the support of friends and family. The hospital hadn’t told us about S.P.R.I.N.G, but a friend stumbled upon their newsletter and passed it on to us. Calling Heather was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do, but I’m glad I did. Just knowing you are not alone helps enormously. We are grateful to the other mums who shared their stories with us. Slowly each day becomes better than the last. There are difficult days along the way- the funeral, the due date, the first Christmas, the first anniversary, but there is life after the death of a baby.

Eventually we felt strong enough to try for another baby. After a miscarriage in September 2004, I fell pregnant again. Things were different. You’re not as naïve as before. This time we had 6 scans in all to check the development of our new baby. Heather was supporting us all the way as each week brings new anxieties.

Elizabeth Iris McLean, Beth for short, was born on 23^rd June 2005, after a very quick labour. A happy healthy baby girl. She has an older brother who was born too early to have a birth certificate or a death certificate, but he will always be part of our family. He was only alive for a short time, but changed our lives forever.