My Story

In September 1998 I lost my dream. That dream was to give birth to a third baby and have three healthy children, all relatively close together in age.

The day started like any other. I awoke on a beautiful spring morning feeling like a box of birds and looking forward to another day ahead with my two children, Bridget (22 mths) and Mark (7 mths). At 10am I started to notice a little niggling pain in my lower right side and by lunchtime it had become quite painful. I tried to lie down for a sleep after lunch while the kids were in bed but it was no good; the pain wouldn't go away.

My husband, Ross, popped in from work around 4pm and found me sitting on the lounge floor crying, trying to change Mark's nappy. I could hardly move by this stage and he phoned my doctor and we left straight away to see her. 20 minutes later and we were there. A quick examination and arrangements were being made for me to be admitted to hospital to have my appendix taken out.

By 7pm I was in hospital in the city. After being examined by what seemed like every doctor in the universe, blood was taken, morphine was administered and I was left to be observed overnight. The morphine was topped up overnight and worked wonderfully. So wonderfully, in fact, that by morning I felt a lot better and was sure they would send me home.

They assured me it was just the drugs suppressing the pain and so sent me for an ultrasound scan to see if they could pinpoint what the problem was. And there it was for all to see; my babies heart beating but not in the middle where it should have been but out to the right hand side. At this stage I still didn't realise the consequences of this and what lay in store for my baby and I.

As I was wheeled back into my room I was followed in by two men, one of whom I recognised as the anesthetist who had helped deliver my son, Mark, by caesarean seven months earlier. The other man was a docor who explained to me that my 8 week old baby was ectopic and growing high up in my right tube. The baby would have to be removed immediately or I would die. I had no choice; either my baby died or we both died. At an inch long no further space was available for my baby to grow in.

Several hours later and it was all over. I was awakening back in my room, minus my baby. My baby was gone; surgically removed from my body and dead.

Nobody else knew I had been pregnant for a third time, and even now only a few people know that I was and that my baby has died. For months I never really let myself grieve. It has only been now that my baby's due date has been and past that I have really started to grieve about all that happened to me and my baby. I should now have three healthy children but instead I have two and am sitting here writing this memorial to Jamie, my angel in heaven.

Ross has never really acknowledged that this baby, our third child, even existed. I suppose it's just not a man thing to do. But I know in my heart that we have had our three children, Bridget, Mark and Jamie, and that someday we'll all meet again and I'll be able to hold Jamie in my arms along with my other two children and never let anyone harm any of them ever again.

I don't think there'll be any more babies for me. My right tube was removed and it was discovered my other tube is also possibly damaged; both thought to have been caused by scaring from my two caesareans. The risks of another ectopic pregnancy would be high. Anyway, Ross is happy with his 'two' kids and I'm reasonably happy with my 'three'; two here with me and the other in safe-keeping with God until someday I can be there too.

Jamie is my guardian angel in Heaven, watching down on my family and keeping us all safe.

I don't care if the world or anyone else thinks that it's wrong
that I love you and dream about you my precious little one.
I'm not anyone else sweet heart, I'm your mother.

Touched for a moment
by your presence,
Remembering you....
forever in my heart.

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Maria's Home Page
Meet Jamie's Mum and Dad
Meet Jamie's Sister and Brother