On the 19th of March 2014, I spent just 12 hours with my fourth baby, my second daughter, and the person that would literally change my life in every way.

 

I was 22 weeks pregnant when we found out Grace was terminally ill.  She had, after many examinations by professors of fetal medicine, Thanatophoric Dysplasia. This condition meant her long bones were measuring short (at 23 weeks, Grace's week was only measuring 12 weeks).  The fatal part of this condition causes the chest cavity not to grow enough for her heart and her lungs. So ultimately upon birth, when babies try and inhale for the first time, my baby girl would die immediately from respiratory failure as her chest cavity would crush her lungs.

 

I'm sorry if this upsets anyone reading but unfortunately, you cannot pretty up this condition. 

 

I couldn't bear this to happen to my baby, my dad died two years previously from lung cancer and I watched him take his last breath. How could I watch my tiny baby struggle to breathe and then pass away... I couldn't. 

 

I asked when I would be induced and my consultant sympathetically told me they can't induce early if there is no risk to the mother as it's against the law in Ireland.

 

My baby was dying.  Her movements were weakening and she would inevitably die from respiratory failure, but this wasn't enough to stop her hurting anymore. I had to be at risk. I was at risk every single day when I met people asking if "I had my bits bought for the baby, how long have you left to go until baby, and the twins must be excited for a baby brother or sister..."  I nodded and smiled, knowing that the baby in the bump that they were admiring was not going to be in the pram I had my eye on or sleeping in her brother's Moses basket. I spent 4 weeks nodding along to people's excited questions. 

 

I was slowly losing my mind. 

 

Because of the fact I couldn't be induced at home with my family around me, I had to go somewhere where they understand what me and my baby were going through... We traveled to Liverpool on St Patrick's weekend amongst hen parties and revelers. We arrived at Liverpool women's hospital where the midwives took over my care. They were angels to me and my little girl.

 

I remember saying to my husband that morning, before the final scan to check Grace, that they may have made a mistake in the two hospitals we had attended in Ireland. Maybe we would get some good news? Maybe her chest had grown and her organs were able to grow. 

 

The professor scanned me for over an hour and he confirmed the diagnosis along with the devastating news that Grace's lungs were no longer in her chest cavity, he couldn't find them so they were either crushed already or just didn't develop. I knew having an early inducement was 100% the right thing to do for that tiny baby at that moment. 

 

After 36 hours of an agonising labour -  pain I would gratefully repeat over and over again - Grace arrived silently into the world at 4.45am.

 

My daughter was the most beautiful little angel you have ever seen, with a button nose and chubby cheeks. She had dark hair and gorgeous plump lips. Her face was perfect and her body was tiny, she was so peaceful. I have never experienced feelings like that before, I was holding my child and felt content, but she was never going to look into my face, or yawn or cry. She was still. 

 

We held her all day long and talked about what life she would have had. A priest came and gave her a little blessing. We named her Grace Saoirse because she was free. We had a nap that day with her beside us and dressed her in a beautiful outfit that the midwives gave us. The outfit I brought was way too big. She was wrapped in a teddy that her big sister gave to her and a teddy Grace gave to me.

 

At 5 pm we had to leave her, we were booked to fly out the next morning. The hospital had a little nursery made up for Grace, it had a cot and a dressing table, teddies and a beautiful mural of angels on the wall. After we said our goodbyes, last cuddles and kisses to her we placed her in her cot all wrapped up cosily with her teddy.  My midwife came in and took over looking after her. 

 

I sometimes can't believe I actually had to do this, I had to leave my baby in another country. How cruel it is that we had to do this, it actually leaves me speechless. 

 

We arranged Grace's funeral, from the prayers right to the music that I choose. It took place in a church in Liverpool and the priest who blessed her also did her funeral, and a midwife attended. We couldn't go because we simply couldn't afford to.

 

I had to wait 3 weeks for Grace to come home. Her ashes arrived by courier. A man knocked at my front door with my daughter's remains waiting to be signed. Again I say I find it hard to believe this is something parents have to go through, did I actually have to sign for my daughter's ashes like an order from ASOS?

 

The next few months were a blur, I can still feel the pain and darkness of those months. The feeling of drowning and anger. I can still feel them because I still go through these feelings, but I've learned how to control them and cope with them now. 

 

Grace's ashes sit on a shelf in our living room and we bring her to our bedroom at night. There are photos of Grace in every room of our house. I sleep with her teddy every night, I actually brought her teddy away to a hotel before my son, Callum was born and teddy was taken to the laundry with the bed sheets. Luckily, the hotel found him in the laundry and posted him home from Athy! 

 

Grace is very much part of this house like any of the other children. Unfortunately, due to the cruelty of this country, none of her family could meet her and say goodbye. 

 

She blessed us with Callum almost a year after she passed. She gave me Callum when I didn't even realise I needed him. She's my motivator, my gut, my soul, my heart, my courage, my bravery and my eyes. She's changed the way I look at things. I'm not the same person I was before I met her, I miss that Tracey, but I'm learning to love the one I am now. 

 

This is Grace's story she was with me for just 28 weeks, but she left me with a lifetime of love. Losing her could have been the reason I stopped living... But having her is the reason I get up every morning. 

 

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever xxxx

 

 

35 year old mum of 5 from Mayo. Tracey blogs over on www.mumsmakeupbag.com and works full time in marketing. She is married to chef Kieran and is beauty obsessed.

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