Before I left the hospital on Sunday, Klaus made arrangements to take me back on Tuesday so I could have a last cuddle and goodbye. We met the social worker in the hospital foyer and she took us up to the little viewing room that has been beautifully decorated and is just like a nursery in someone’s home. Our darling Nicholas was wrapped up snuggly, laying in the bassinet in the middle of the room. He looked so peaceful and it broke my heart all over again. I wanted to rush to him and beg him to please wake up; that it wasn’t too late and we could all go home right now and I promise I would be such a good mum if only he would just wake up.

The social worker said that she had taken the liberty of already making hand and feet impressions into clay and that the clay would be sent to the art department of the local university for firing in their kiln. She further explained that it was something done for the hospital because the man responsible for running the kilns had also lost a baby and he did it to help other families in the same situation. How on earth can we possibly repay all of this kindness??? She made sure we were ok to do what we needed to do and left us then to do it.

After initial cuddles and cooing, and a few more tears we set about to do the things we hadn’t already done. There was a very large hard covered book on the table in the viewing room, and it was filled with letters, prayers and memories dedicated to so many babies that were lost over the years. I had seen it during my admission and wanted to add my own story to it but I just couldn’t find the words and really didn’t want to waste my limited time on that when I could be using the time to cuddle Nicholas. At home on Monday night I sat down at our dining table and wrote two letters; one for each of my little lost boys. I’d brought some glue to the hospital with me and used it to add my letters to the memory book.

I wanted to keep the outfit Nicholas wore in hospital but I hadn’t thought to bring another outfit for him to wear after that. I didn’t want to strip him naked and leave him there, and although the hospital offered me a beautiful smocked gown to dress him in, it just didn’t feel right. I’d left him on Sunday in his hospital outfit and on Monday, we went out and bought an identical romper (love those little hippos and giraffes). We carefully removed his old romper and gently redressed him in his clean new romper. It was a very slow and difficult process but we got through it without any problems.

Nicholas was born with beautiful light brown hair that glowed golden brown in the morning sun. It was almost an inch long in one area at the back of his head and we were able to tease a lock of it together, tied a piece of blue cotton around it then we clipped it away with a small pair of scissors I’d brought with me. With his precious lock stowed carefully in a little envelope, we set about making ink prints of his hands and feet. It was right at this moment that midwife Kate arrived bearing more hugs and more sweet words of encouragement and hope. She commended me on “labouring Nicholas beautifully” and said that it was the way in which I had birthed him that helped him to live for so long. I tried to tell her that I didn’t do anything, I was just there. She disagreed and said I’d been very controlled and that the birth, being flexed breech, was very difficult and that these little babies are usually born with bruises etc. Our little Nicholas didn’t have a single mark on him.

Although Kate hadn’t been expecting us, she still gave us over an hour of her morning to help us make lots and lots of hand and feet prints on the white card I’d brought from home. Our little boy had the biggest hands and feet! She cooed and soothed the entire time, then lovingly washed the ink from his skin. I was so glad to have seen her again and I showed her the pages I had added to the memory book she’d made. When she gave it to me on Friday morning, she’d said that she had made the first few pages for me but that she had intentionally left some pages blank for me to work on. Late on Monday evening, I had scrapbooked the pages reserved for his cot card, wrist band and baptismal remembrance. She loved it.

Kate removed Nicholas’ cord clamp along with a tiny piece of the cord and showed me how to dry it out so I could add it to the memory book. She had even included an organza bag for it in the memory book. We switched the spare wrist band I’d taken away with me, with the one that he had worn up to that point and carefully wrapped him back up in his blankets. Kate left us at that point and we sat together on the sofa with Nicholas in my arms. I held him close and told him how much I love him and kissed his creamy forehead and the bridge of his nose over and over. I delayed leaving for as long as possible but everything must come to an end. Klaus paged the social worker to let her know that it was time for us to go and she returned to see us off and to move my little Nudgie to the mortuary. We stood next to the bassinet and talked about the arrangements to follow and I continued to steal kisses and tummy rubs and gently squeezed his little piggies until there was nothing left to say or do except walk away.

This entry was posted on Thursday 4th March 2010 at 7:06 PM and is filed under Nudge. Both comments and pings are currently closed.