Our Stories
Angel
Our story starts with my partner Sarah and I, when we decided to actively embark on our journey to have children in 2022. We are a same sex couple, and Sarah and I always knew that I would be the one that would carry our children. In June 2022, after the almost year long process of having the many tests etc that are required when going through fertility treatment, including choosing our anonymous donor through our fertility clinic, we went in for the IUI and conceived our first born baby girl, Angel. We felt so incredibly lucky, grateful and fortunate.
The pregnancy progressed rather smoothly, apart from the expected nausea for the first trimester, until we got to the 20 week scan, which took place on Thursday October 27th 2022. I recall the sonographer going silent for a while, and then bringing the doctor in, who would explain that a part of Angel's brain, the Corpus Callosum (a large bundle of more than 200 million myelinated nerve fibers that connect the two brain hemispheres, permitting communication between the right and left sides of the brain) had not developed. She had already made calls to the doctor at the hospital to link us in with the fetal medicine clinic, so that we could have all the follow up tests, including a fetal MRI and an amniocentesis, before making any decisions about how we would proceed. I remember feeling a hot feeling washing over my body, and then going numb. I could hear the doctor, but couldn't believe what I was hearing. As Sarah and I walked out of the room and out of the imaging centre, I burst into tears, knowing that the outcome was going to be bad.
As soon as we arrived home, which was close to 6pm, the doctor from the imaging centre called me and explained that she had spent time looking closely at the images, and was quite certain that the corpus callosum wasn't there, and was unlikely to develop at that stage. She gave me the opportunity to ask questions, and answered them frankly. I asked her what decision people tend to make in instances where their baby's corpus callosum is missing, and asked if most people terminate, and her answer was "yes". I thanked her for her time and honesty and we ended the call with her confirming that the fetal medicine clinic would be in touch to start the process.
The coming days were the most painful of my life, and I felt like my world had ended. Our baby that we had dreamed about, planned for and wanted so desperately, wasn't to be.
The week that followed, we spent much of our time attending appointments and having procedures (scans, amniocentesis, fetal MRI, specialist consultations etc) to confirm the absence of the corpus callosum, before any decision could be made. I pleaded with the doctors to please try and fit in all the appointments as soon as possible, so that we would not be made to sit with our crippling anxiety, pain and mental anguish longer than necessary. Whilst we dreaded the outcome and confirmation, we also knew that we didn't want to sit in limbo, not knowing what the outcome would be for weeks on end. On the 3rd of November 2022, following the fetal MRI results, the fetal medicine medical team confirmed the corpus callosum was absent. Sarah and I had spent many hours researching the outcomes for our baby girl should we choose to have her, and discussed options and outcomes with the many doctors we encountered. The answer from all was the same: Angel would suffer with disability that would significantly impact her life at all stages. After spending much time discussing our options, Sarah and I decided to TMFR (terminate for medical reasons). We informed the doctors of our decision, which they supported.
They explained the next steps, which included feticide, and induction, where I would give birth to Angel. This, I was told, could take up to a few days, particularly as Angel was my first child.
On Friday 4th November 2022, I was booked to return to the fetal medicine clinic, where they would 'put our baby to sleep' through a procedure known as feticide. Whilst this was not mandatory, the doctors explained that there was a slight chance that upon birthing Angel, she may still be alive, at which point they would be required to perform life saving measures for her. Sarah and I felt that the trauma of this would be far too immense, and agreed to the feticide. On Thursday night, I didn't sleep. I stayed awake, held my stomach, and tried to imprint the memory of feeling Angel's kicks into my brain knowing that tomorrow, my baby would die.
We arrived at the hospital on Friday for the feticide, and sat in the waiting room with all the other mums attending for their antenatal appointments. It felt like salt in the wound - a cruel and unnecessary punishment. I wouldn't wish my circumstances on anyone, however I also didn't want to be around any other pregnant women. One of the midwives was so kind and supportive, and moved us to some chairs behind a curtain so that I wouldn't have to see all the other women - perhaps she saw the pain in my face, or perhaps she had seen so many women experience this before that she knew the waiting area added to the pain.
My appointment time arrived, and we went into the room where they placed a screen up in front of me so that I couldn't see, and turned the monitor away so I could not see that either. 2 doctors were required to perform the procedure, and a midwife attended to assist also. Sarah sat and held my hand behind the curtain, as the doctors performed the procedure. Following a scan, the doctor gave me a local anesthetic, and then advised me to stay very still and not move, whilst she inserted the long needle into my stomach and into my uterus and into Angel, which would insert a solution that would put her to sleep. The whole procedure took approximately 10 minutes, and following, I was asked to wait for 1 hour so that they could confirm Angel's heart had stopped before I could leave. I was taken to a room where I could lie down and rest while we waited, and I remember feeling physically sore, and emotionally and mentally destroyed. After a few hours, they confirmed that Angel was gone, and I could now go home. I had been booked in to be induced on Monday 7th November.
At first for a brief time, I could not imagine how I could possibly go through labour and birth, knowing that my baby was dead. Sarah and I both however wanted to give Angel's birth the same value as that of any other of our future children. We viewed Angel's birth as the birth of our first child, and embraced the circumstances as they were.
The induction, I was told, could take a really long time, from 12-24 hours, to a few days, depending on how my body responded to the medication. I received 5 doses of the medication (first dose at 10am and every following dose 3 hours apart) and was in active labour for approximately 7-8 hours. At just after 2:10am on Tuesday 8th November, I gave birth to Angel. Our beautiful baby girl.
We spent time with Angel, and felt blessed that we had the opportunity to be her mums. She made us parents, and she would always be our first born baby. The coming days and weeks were torturous, organising a funeral for our baby and dealing with our raw grief, and the complexities that come with the loss of a baby. The days, weeks and months passed.
In January 2023, Sarah and I decided to attempt IUI again, and were successful. As there were no genetic factors linked to the abnormality, we used the same donor. We became pregnant in January 2023 and due in October 2023 with a baby boy. I read about the challenges of PAL, but never anticipated the complex emotions and challenges that would come with it. The anxiety, grief, guilt, worry and so much more were and are at times overwhelming. But we push through.
The support of a red nose grief counsellor for both Sarah and I together and separately has been incredibly valuable, as has the support of family and friends. The reality of baby and child loss is a confronting thing, and as a result, many people have responded in unhelpful and often hurtful ways. These pose their own challenges that we experience, and we just try to get through each encounter, each hurdle and each challenge as it comes, as best we can.
Effie & Sarah, Angel's Mamas
