PERSPECTIVE

PAULA BENMAYOR HAD A NORMAL PREGNANCY UNTIL HER BABY’S STILLBIRTH AT 38 WEEKS. SHE’S NOW COMMITTED TO CHANGING THE WAY WE TALK ABOUT THE TRAGIC HEALTH ISSUE

Paula Benmayor shares the heartbreaking experience of her child’s stillbirth.

I ALWAYS KNEW I WANTED A FAMILY. I was adopted and desperate to have my own children. When I fell pregnant, quite quickly after we started trying, I was so excited. I was so happy I was going to have a baby very soon. I never had any reason to think anything would go wrong.

I was at a family dinner when I realised I hadn’t felt the baby move for a while. I was 38 weeks at that stage, two weeks before my due date, and I had a strange feeling that I couldn’t explain. I kept waiting and waiting for the baby to move.

When I didn’t feel anything after a while, I decided to go to the hospital. After many attempts to find a heartbeat, the nurse sat me down and said: ‘I’m so sorry but your baby has no heartbeat.’ Within a couple of hours, my life had been turned upside down. I was told I would be induced to give birth and I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Logically, I knew I had to, but I didn’t think I could do what they were asking.

The next few hours are still so vivid in my mind. I was terrified. I had no idea what to expect. What would she look like? Would I get to hold her? What if I couldn’t face it?

A counsellor named Deb de Wilde came into the room and, to this day, I am so grateful for her presence. She held me and calmly and quietly explained what would happen. She told me that giving birth was the only thing I would ever get to do for my baby, and the minute I heard those words, for the next few hours I found the strength I needed. I gave birth to my beautiful daughter and brought her into this world. She was the most beautiful little girl. As I held her in my arms, all my fears were gone and I felt the most incredible love. She looked perfect and peaceful.

I stayed in the hospital for five days due to complications from the birth, which meant I was able to spend time with my baby, who I named Isabella. I held her, laid with her, talked to her. I’m so glad I have those memories of being together. The next step, though, was the hardest. I had to choose a dress for Isabella to wear in her tiny white coffin, then leave her at the hospital knowing I would never see her again. Walking away from her broke my heart. I actually don’t know how I did it.

A day later, we had her funeral, which was packed with people. We carried her coffin and placed her into the ground. I said goodbye to my beautiful angel.

Stillbirth made me a kinder person, but it also robbed me of my innocence. Once you’ve lost a baby, your whole life becomes about having another. I became pregnant again very quickly after Isabella, which was very exciting, but I was also incredibly scared. I went on to have three gorgeous children but when they were small, I’d worry if they slept too long and if they got sick, I worried more than I should. My obstetrician for each of my subsequent pregnancies understood my fears and his kindness was remarkable. Once, he came into the hospital on a Sunday to do an ultrasound because I was feeling anxious. He arrived with his four young sons in tow, all in board shorts; he’d cut their visit to the beach short to come and assuage my fears. And my girlfriends and family were the same – when I was still in hospital, they quietly went to our house and put everything in the nursery away, dismantling the cot as they thought I’d prefer not to be reminded of it when I got home. A day later, when I said, ‘I’m going to keep Isabella’s nursery as it is for a while; I don’t want to pretend she was never here,’ they raced back and put it all back together. And I’ll never forget the amazing girlfriends who asked to hold Isabella; I know how hard that would have been to do, but it meant so much to me.

Nobody wants to talk about stillbirth, and I get it: it’s devastating. I don’t want to rob anyone of the innocence of being happily pregnant, but I do think we need to talk about it more. Six babies are stillborn every day in Australia and this statistic hasn’t changed for 20 years. It’s a terrible thing to talk about, but talking helps the parents of those children come to terms with what’s happened and helps spread the word about things we can do to reduce stillbirth rates [risk factors include advanced maternal age, sleeping on your back in late pregnancy, pre-pregnancy obesity and smoking and drinking in pregnancy].

I never want to stop talking about Isabella, as hard as losing her has been. I know she’s with me every day. I have an incredible feeling of peace when I think of her. Isabella was born ‘sleeping’ 14 years ago, but not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. She missed out on meeting her family, her sister and brothers, and having a life with us, but I know she is here and that

” gives me incredible peace. Paula’s business, Love You Sydney, partners with The Stillbirth Foundation. To donate, visit loveyousydney.com.au or go to stillbirthfoundation.org.au