Dealing with Loss
Olive Belle Veenstra 20.03.22 - Our Stillborn Daughter
Organised Chaos
A small swarm of medical professionals buzz around my wife (Rachel), it’s like I am watching events unfold from afar. One midwife has a serious demeanor as she searches for a heart beat. She hits the help button on the wall, “this can’t be good” I think to myself. The onsite obstetrician introduces herself quickly and picks up where the midwife left off. A few moments later she looks at my wife and shakes her head, no words were spoken…I’ll never forget that moment.
Our obstetrician had already been paged and arrived shortly after. One of the ladies catches his eyes and shakes her head slightly as he enters the room. He has the unenviable task of re-confirming what we all know and verbalising the sad news. Up until that moment I was hoping for some medical miracle (just like on TV) but it was not in God’s plan today.
Hearing the words out loud made it real, at least in my mind. I held Rachel’s hand and went to embrace her, the low bed and my old knees meant we touched heads. Emotions took over and we cried together in a room full of people, I vaguely remember our obstetrician’s hand on my shoulder. I’m not one to bring emotions to the surface but it affected me/us deeply.
An invisible pause button was hit by staff allowing us a few moments to process what had happened. The organised chaos resumed quickly, Rachel had lost and was losing a lot of blood internally. The baby needed to come out and they needed to stop the bleeding. The anesthetist had already been paged and they were prepping the operating room while I was getting a swab shoved up my nose. Thanks COVID.
During Rach’s epidural I felt utterly useless. She was in a lot of pain, had lost her baby and about to give birth. I couldn’t take her pain away, I couldn’t bring our baby back, I felt I had failed them both, I was supposed to be her rock. I tried to fight back the tears but it was useless, the tears flowed while I held her hand. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t do anything. The operating room nurse came over and placed her hand on my shoulder and our obstetrician came back to hold both our hands. I didn’t register it at the time but the staff were amazing….they cared.
Not long after, we met our baby. The emotions were bittersweet (all our babies have been surprises), we finally had a beautiful girl but she was stillborn.
Did I fail Olive?
The hospital staff seemed to read my mind. Our obstetrician sat down with us shortly after the birth and explained Rachel had a severe placental abruption. We had minutes from when the abruption occurred to getting Olive out. Had we been in hospital at the exact moment it happened the chances of survival were still low.
I had been replaying the night before thinking about what I could have done to change the outcome, should I have gone to hospital sooner? Hearing this from the obstetrician squashed the feelings of guilt building up inside me. Later on I started thinking it through, it would have taken 5-10 minutes to get our neighbours up in the middle of the night, another 2-5 minutes to get to the hospital and possibly another 10-20 minutes before we were in surgery. No-one can say for sure but I don’t think getting to hospital sooner would have resulted in a different outcome.
Throughout Rachel’s hospital stay the midwives (that treated Rach when we arrived) conveyed the same message. The staff were being caring and thoughtful. I don’t think they realised how much it helped stop the anger and guilt I aimed at myself.
The angel in the chaos
The chaos had begun to subside, Olive was in our arms and Rach was in a stable condition waiting to be moved to ICU. We were told the social worker would come by soon. It didn’t occur to us that the social worker had to come in early on a Sunday morning.
She introduced herself as Deb, I remember a calming presence about her. We spoke briefly about the emotions we were experiencing and she mentioned some practical things to think about later like the funeral. Deb said it would be a lot to take in and she was right. My brain couldn’t process much. A lot had happened in a few hours, planning a funeral wasn’t on the agenda when I woke up that morning.
I assumed she would come and go like the other people we had met that morning. Deb kept checking back in throughout the day, she took pictures for us with Olive, organised food, moved our car from the entrance of the hospital. She looked after us, Deb was here for the long haul. In my opinion she helped Rachel’s recovery both mentally and physically by being there when I could not. My time in the hospital was limited as our families live in New Zealand and I needed to look after our boys. Thanks to our amazing neighbours for looking after our boys as well as 3 boys of their own.
Deb was fantastic and continues to be so. Rach and I would have been more scarred getting through this tough time without her. She had a mountain of experience and seemed to know exactly what we needed. During the week she helped us immensely putting us in contact with a funeral director, organising a photographer (Harlly & Co Photography) and liaising with hospital staff so we could see Olive whenever we wanted to. She continued to check in with Rach and is still in contact today. “You’ve got me for life” she said and meant it.
COVID had forced the maternity hospital to implement a no children visitation policy, Deb was able to get an exception for us. She didn’t make a fuss but I’m sure it wasn’t as easy as she made out. It meant the world to us that our boys could met their sister.
A quick google on Deb de Wilde showed she is highly regarded but we already knew first hand why. In 2005 she was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia for service to the community providing support to bereaved parents. There were also other online articles praising her support for bereaved parents.
Coping with grief
Driving home to break the news to our boys I was confused about what I should be feeling. There were so many emotions but underneath it all was an emptiness. I remember thinking how I would cope with the grief, I don’t drink, drugs isn’t my thing. I wondered if I would go to the gym more.
I didn’t have time to wallow in my feelings. Life needed to continue and I was distracted by COVID jabs for the boys, school lunches, drop offs, pickups and looking after our youngest on his non daycare days. I had clarity on what I needed to be: The glue holding the family together.
I put my emotions on hold so the family could keep going. Everything was a little dull, life didn’t seem as bright. I recognise it now (well at least for me), it was learning to live with that emptiness. Our neighbours offered to babysit at night so I could visit Rachel. It was an opportunity to talk through our emotions, people offered to talk to me but unless they had lost a child I felt they could not relate to the emptiness I felt (also I don’t open to people easily).
There were times when it would just hit me out of the blue. One night while driving the boys to Sushi train (lazy dad & fun dad dinner) I could feel the tears building up. I just forced it back into its compartmentalised box to deal with later.
After the nightly hospital visits I had time to process my emotions. I allowed myself to wallow in my feelings, sleep eluded me that week. I wasn’t angry but let my mind wander and think about what we missed out on, small things to big life events. Brushing her hair at night, the boys and I intimidating the poor boy she brings home to meet the family, walking her down the aisle. At the same time I knew it wasn’t healthy to do this too much so I made a conscious effort not to stay in that place too long.
Because I dived back into life without processing my emotions I wasn’t prepared for certain interactions. During a school pickup Theo wanted to show his friend our 7 seater SUV. The mum spotted the car seat in the third row and asked how many children I have. My mind was racing, “well I have four but one was stillborn a few days ago” flashed in my head. I didn’t know the mum and I didn’t want to bring the mood down so I said 3 boys.
The next interaction caught me off guard and was harder. Our local IGA are part of the community and they know us and our rowdy boys. I always make small talk with the staff. They knew Rachel was pregnant and Theo blurted out we had been to the hospital. One of the guys asked how the baby was. I felt backed into a corner with no option but to tell the unvarnished truth. The joy on his face drained as I told him. I felt responsible for putting a damper on his day. On the way out the owner asked me the same question and I repeated the same answer. Where is the life handbook that prepares you for this?
After 3 days in ICU, 4 units of blood and 2 days recovering Rachel was well enough to come home. She is an absolute champion. Having her home every night helped me cope, sharing our emotions and tears assisted the healing process. I felt guilty as I was further along in the grieving process (because I had forced myself back into life). A week or so later we attended counselling for couples that had stillbirths. I could see that everyone processes grief on different timescales and this was normal. The important thing was to allow your partner the time they needed.
Our hearts went out to a young couple that had lost their first child. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be for them and the emptiness they must feel. Hearing their story cemented how blessed we were to have 3 healthy children.
Our boys (Oscar, Theo and Elliot) helped me cope with my grief and continue to do so. Initially it was the distraction of having to look after them, but it turned into me wanting to reconnect with them and enjoy their company (something I let slide in the busyness of life).
Reconnecting
Elliot is the youngest and by default he gets the most attention. Reconnecting with him was easy, his home days were still school days for his brothers so we had time. I loved it, we did whatever he wanted which isn’t a lot. He’s a homebody like me. He loves hanging out in “Daddy’s bed” on his iPad, I was more than happy to copy him. There were lots of trips to the back yard to play on the trampoline and a few trips to the IGA to get “candy”.
Theo is our no limit middle child. He has one speed and that’s foot to the floor. He can be hard work but we love him to the moon and back. I really worked on my patience with him and rediscovered the sweet boy underneath that tough exterior. He has trouble expressing his emotions but the sweet boy does come to the surface. He likes to hover around then charge at me Kamikaze style, just before he is about to hit me he gives me a quick cuddle and leaves as quickly as he came in.
Oscar aka Osky is the oldest and most sensitive. He knew something wasn’t right when we rushed to hospital and experienced the most emotions for Olive out of his siblings. I let him have a few half days at school so we could hangout. He loves 1 on 1 dad time, something he was forced to give up with the arrival of his siblings.
Osky complained we never go on holiday and he was right. The last family holiday was when he was 1 and half years old (he’s nine now). The truth was for most of his life we were under financial stress, money was tight and holidays were trips to New Zealand (to visit family). There were no excuses as financial stress had not been issue for over 3 years. The focus had been on our careers, the idea of a family holiday during peak holiday times seemed too stressful. Osky was right, we needed to spend more family time together, it didn’t need to be a big trip overseas, just quality time.
Taking my 9 year old’s feedback onboard I booked a few days away to stay at a holiday park south of Sydney. Rach couldn’t come as she was still recovering from surgery (she got to spend quality time with Elliot The HomeBod). Osky, Theo and I embarked on a “Boys Roadtrip”, they promised to keep me company on the long drive. They were both asleep about an hour into the 6 hour drive 😄.
The holiday was fantastic, we had the best time. They enjoyed every moment and I felt reconnected to them. I found moments during the holiday where the dullness faded and life regained a little bit of sparkle.
Feeling the love & Support
We felt the love and support from family and friends expressed in many ways. It began with a flurry of sympathy and support messages.
Flowers! It seemed like an endless line of couriers were dropping off flowers day and night. Vases were in shortly supply so I used various containers and buckets to hold flowers.
Food! Friends were dropping off meals quietly on our doorstep. Dinner Ladies introduced themselves via a gigantic box of meals (we had to clear out 2 freezers to make room). More dinner ladies meals and vouchers arrived. I can confirm we are well stocked for meals into 2023.
One of the touching memories I have is the midwife who could not find the heartbeat came to visit Rach. She baked brownies for our family. We forget this affects the hospital staff, this isn’t easy for them either. She cared enough to go above and beyond.
Rachel’s sister (Nicola) came over from NZ to help us. She was an instant hit with the boys which provided Rachel and I some room to breathe. The boys forgot about Daddy for a while and Aunty Nic became the favourite around the house. I may have been a little jealous 😄.
The support from my employeer (VMware) was great. There was never pressure to return to work and I came back when I felt ready. My colleagues were very generous and organised Red Balloon vouchers for the family (I plan to use on our next family holiday). Having a supportive employer was a significant help to the family.
People may not have understood what we were going through but they wanted us to know they were there for us. In addition to flowers and meals there were gifts and money. It was overwhelming to be on the receiving end of that love and support. Thankyou
Life Goes On
Deb told us support at the start would be overwhelming and that it would fade. This is understandable as people have their own lives to live. In some people’s mind they assume we might have moved on. This is not something you move on from, rather it’s something you get used to living with. One of our children is missing from our life, that’s the grief or emptiness we carry always.
There are good days and bad days. Rachel and I continue to check-in with each other which helps manage the grief. We don’t shy away from talking about Olive in the house and encourage the boys to talk about her.
Looking back we think the staff at The Mater Hospital in North Sydney were amazing. We truly felt they cared and the interactions with staff confirmed this. Our three boys were all born at the Mater and we’ve had good experiences everytime. Unfortunately Olive was stillborn but this allowed us to see a more caring side to the hospital.
I had selfishly wished God would have answered my prayers differently when we first arrived at the hospital. But we are not special, there are plenty of other families out there who deserved a miracle over us. I trust God does have a plan and while I cannot see what it is I have faith there is.
