If You Have To Go, Go After 24 weeks
Have you ever heard of the term 'V Day' in pregnancy? The V stands for viable or viability and the day occurs when you reach 24 weeks pregnant. By the time you reach this point in pregnancy, the baby has a better chance of survival outside of the womb, if born early. Babies born before have much less chance since their lungs & other vital organs aren't developed enough. Of course 24 weeks is still far too early for a little baby to come into the world but if it were to unfortunately happen, the advances in medical technology mean that today he or she would have a better fighting chance than earlier on in pregnancy.
I've said it before: this pregnancy (my fourth) has been no picnic due to my previous loss earlier this year. It has been filled with a lot worry and heartache. I now know that I'm having a little girl, something I've really longed for. Knowing more about the baby and feeling her moving inside of me is really helping me to bond with her. And I've reached a point where I cannot stop thinking about the thought of losing her. I sometimes find myself Day-dreaming or rather having daymares about various situations which would result in me losing this child.
And the whole time I find myself speaking to her in my head and saying 'if you have to go, please wait till you're at least 24 weeks.' Perhaps the NHS can provide a better explanation as to why I feel that way:
"A stillbirth is a baby born dead after 24 weeks of pregnancy. If the baby dies before 24 completed weeks, it's known as a miscarriage or late foetal loss."
I don't want my baby to die. I don't want any of my children to die. But my third child did die. I've experienced that loss. I know how it feels, I know the pain. I do not wish for it to ever happen again, but I know that it could. It's a fact that my baby might not survive this pregnancy. It's a terrible thought, but it's fact. So with that terrible thought in mind, here is the honest truth about how I feel about: If I had to lose her, I'd want to lose her after 24 weeks.
So now you are wondering why anyone in their right mind would have a preference about the timing of their child's death? It perhaps sounds twisted and cruel when in fact it's a wish that is powered only by love and protection. I wrote in my journal as if I were writing to my unborn child and I think this would best explain my feelings on the subject.
"My dear daughter,
You are so precious and so small. I feel you kicking me all day everyday and I will cherish those kicks forever. I am dreaming about you constantly. I sometimes have sweet dreams about your birth. I hold you and I tell your dad how much you look like your brother and sister. I love those dreams so much. But I also have other dreams. Dreams where your little heart stops beating and we have to say goodbye before we can say hello.
I try my best to stay positive. I look to the future with hope and pray that you will be healthy and strong when you're born. But it's reality, it's a fact that you might not make it. There's no science or faith that takes that fact away. I want to bring you into this world and watch you grow, but in case that doesn't happen I need to ask you something.
If you have to go, please wait till you're 24 weeks grown? Wait until the world sees you as a real person. Wait until the doctors will call it a stillbirth and not a miscarriage. It doesn't matter what I believe or how I feel about you, no matter how small you are. They will always treat you differently. Wait until they let me hold you after you're born. Wait until they give me time before sending me home to deal with it there. Wait until they take it seriously and offer me the help I need and follow through with it. Wait until I become a less common statistic although certainly not rare by any means. Wait until they let me dress you and wrap you in a blanket. Wait until they give me some sort of certificate to respectfully acknowledge your existence. Wait until they allow me to mourn your loss with a burial or cremation of my own choice instead of burning your remains with hospital waste or sending me home to flush you down a toilet. Wait until the process of releasing you from my body is counted as an actual birthing process and not just some stomach ache and bleeding.
Wait until other people hear of our 'stillbirth' and count it as an actual loss of life. Wait until they feel the need to send a card or acknowledge our loss by giving a hug or saying sorry. Wait until those 24 weeks have passed. Wait until your death has a new name that seems to be counted as more real or more tragic in the eyes of society. Just wait, so that they'll actually remember you and believe you existed. It shouldn't matter when you die my girl, but for some reason in the world I'm trying to bring you into, it does.
I pray you will make it here. And if you do, I'll raise you to know that all life is sacred. I'll teach you about your sister who was as real and significant as you are. And hopefully you'll grow into a woman, a member of society who will know how precious life is and to acknowledge and respect all loss no matter at what stage of life it occurs."