On October 3rd, 2010, my baby girl, Tallula, was born. I was 11 days over due, and I couldn’t wait to meet her. My then 3 year old daughter, Drew, knew her sister was arriving and had been proudly showing off her bedroom to anyone who would visit. My parents were staying at a B&B a few minutes away. My husband, Alan, was at work, but when he had kissed me goodbye early that morning, I had told him that I thought Tallula may be on her way, I had started to feel some labour pains. I was excited, I didn’t know what to expect as my first child had been 16 days over due and I had to be induced 3 times, so I never went into natural labour.

My labour was fast, Tallula was born 2.5 hours after I realised I was in labour, and it was uncomplicated. It was the natural labour I had hoped for, only without the best part, that sound of your baby’s first cry. I lay staring at the ceiling, elated that I had been able to pop this beautiful little girl out, so much easier than the first and that she was finally here. They whisked her away and explained to me that she needed some oxygen and that she had swallowed meconium, which can be quite common. I just asked ” Why is she not crying?” over and over again, trying to stay calm.

My daughter was resuscitated for half an hour by a team of doctors, she had been starved of oxygen during labour and we had no idea. There I was thinking I had done so well…

The paeditrician came over and I will never forget his words ” I am not going to ask you, I am going to tell you, that we need to stop now. Your daughter has been without oxygen for too long and if we keep going, she will have no quality of life. ”

I looked at my husband in disbelief, were they talking about my baby? She was fine, she was perfect, she was mine. We held her for hours, not enough hours, I could have held her forever. I still didn’t believe it was true. I lay her body out in front of me and I studied her, I kissed her baby soft skin and I whispered ” I love you ” a hundred times.

My parents held her and spent some time with her. My 3 year old was waiting outside to meet her sister. What would I tell her, I was so ashamed.

My husband was asked to dress her, to choose some clothes from her hospital bag. He asked me if she needed a nappy? I didn’t know what to say? I watched as he tried to dress his little girl, her fragile but lifeless body. He was so gentle, trying so hard not to hurt her. Her lips were starting to go purple. Her heart had stopped in my husband’s arms.We wrapped her up in a beautiful blanket that I had bought her and we had to say goodbye. I didn’t want to let her go. Looking back now, I remember thinking, maybe they can fix her and bring her back? Goodbye my love…

The midwife who delivered Tallula was from Cape Town, the city I am from. Her name was Valencia. I will never forget her. She came in to the room and asked us whether we wanted to have Tallula buried or cremated? Should I know the answer to this one? I wanted to take my baby home. The midwife then told me I could go home if I wanted to, I didn’t. How was I ever going to walk out of here without Tallula? My 3 year old daughter was expecting a sister, what had I done? How did this happen to me, to us? Was it something I ate? So many questions that swim around in your head. The guilt, oh the guilt, that doesn’t go away. My family were in pieces, my husband is broken and I have no answers. I want to stand up and shout her name out loud. It feels like such an injustice! All I wanted to do was talk about it, process it, submerge myself in my grief. I think that’s why I can talk about it today, I can even smile. I cannot pretend she didn’t exist, I have to acknowledge her presence here on earth, this is what my heart and soul require. I am still her mother.

This blog will allow me to write about my grief, about my story. It’s for anyone who has any interest in what goes on inside the head of a mother who has to give birth to a baby, to watch her die, to have to organise a funeral and to get up everyday and breathe even when you really don’t want to. The details will follow as I continue to write…

Thank you for reading my first post in honour of Tallula Braithwaite who would be 6 this year.