A mother’s little bundle of grief
More needs to be done to help parents deal with perinatal loss
In less than two years, Hannah Aubut has given birth to two children, 10 months apart.
But the sudden death of her first child at the time of delivery meant Aubut had to grapple with crushing loss at the same time as she prepared to welcome another baby.
As her second, cherub-cheeked toddler Cyan turns one this week, 25-year-old Aubut credits the group therapy sessions she attended at the McGill University Health Centre with being a lifeline in a dark and difficult time.
“It allowed me to enjoy motherhood,” Aubut said. “It didn’t take away the grief … but it makes the burden I carry less cumbersome.”
The support group is funded by donations to the Cradles for Cuddles campaign run by the MUHC Foundation. The initiative was launched last year by four other moms who have dealt with similar tragedies. It is twothirds of the way toward a goal of collecting $30,000.
Aubut was 40 weeks and three days pregnant as early labour began on Dec. 12, 2016. When she woke up, she didn’t feel her baby moving. So she went to get checked out by her midwife. Aubut wasn’t overly concerned because she had complained of lack of motion before and her caregivers never found anything wrong.
This time was different. The baby’s heartbeat was very faint.
“(The midwife was) like ‘We have to go now!’ She grabbed my file. She’s like ‘I’m going with you, let’s get to the car, let’s go right now, hustle,’ ” Aubut recalled recently.
She tried to remain calm, resigning herself to a hospital C-section instead of the home birth she had planned.
But the magnitude of the emergency was only just beginning to dawn on her.
After arriving at the hospital, explaining everything all over again, being placed on a triage bed in view of the waiting room and facing examinations by a succession of nurses, residents and doctors, it was too late.
“(The doctor said) ‘I’m sorry, your baby’s heart has stopped beating,’ ” Aubut recalled. “I closed my eyes and made this noise that I don’t think anyone could make again.”
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, when families who have endured the deaths of babies before, during or after birth remember the children they never got to bring home. It’s a suffering that is often shrouded in silence and stigma given society’s frequent failure to recognize the depths of such mourning, acknowledge the inextinguishable love for these infants or find the right words to show compassion.
But as more people open up about miscarriage, stillbirth and loss, the conversation is slowly starting to change.
Aubut and her husband, Scott Aubut, were taken to a room at the far end of the birthing centre corridor where they tried to comprehend the fact the daughter they hadn’t met yet was dead. They made difficult calls to family members and struggled to answer questions no expecting couple is ever prepared for, like whether they wanted to hold their child or whether they planned to hold a funeral.
That evening, Aubut was given medication to accelerate labour. Sixteen hours later, at 10:07 p.m. on Dec. 13, 2016, Senna was born.
“I remember saying I would do it a million times if I could just keep her,” Aubut said. “I went from not wanting to hold her to being like ‘give her to me now!’
“She was just everything I ever imagined. She was just perfect.”
Senna, it was later determined, died of a fetal-maternal hemorrhage, which is when a membrane between the blood supplies of the mother and child fails. Senna had been slowly bleeding out; 12 per cent of Aubut’s blood supply was determined to have come from her daughter. A simple blood test could have diagnosed the problem.
The first priority of the Cradles for Cuddles campaign was to purchase a cuddle cot for the MUHC birthing centre. This specialized bassinet cools the body of deceased infants so that their families have more time to say hellos and goodbyes that must last a lifetime. One cot has already been acquired at a cost of $7,000 — the first and only unit in Quebec.
The rest of the $20,000 raised so far is going to provide free group therapy sessions for parents. The goal now is to raise another $10,000 for this purpose.
Rosa Caporicci is a psychotherapist who helped develop the program with MUHC reproductive psychiatrist Dr. Tuong-Vu Nguyen.
Caporicci laments the fact that mental health in general is so often an afterthought. But bereaved parents in particular need to be accompanied to break the isolation of their disenfranchised grief.
“Perinatal loss is not well understood. It kind of flies under the radar despite the fact it’s not such a rare occurrence,” said Caporicci, who facilitates the group therapy. “Too often parents are left to fend for themselves.”
There are 23,000 perinatal deaths a year in Quebec. One in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage and six in 1,000 full-term pregnancies end in stillbirth. Despite those statistics, psychological counselling is not usually available, Caporicci said. The fact the MUCH support group is funded by donations speaks for itself.
As Aubut discovered, families thrust into terrible anguish during what is supposed to be a joyful occasion are forced to look long and hard for proper help.
Aubut found therapists, but none were specialized in this sensitive domain of infant loss. When she quickly got pregnant again with Cyan, there was little understanding that this was not a happy ending; that though she was glad to be expecting, she wasn’t just going to forget Senna.
It took her family doctor to diagnose post-partem depression and her own scouring of the internet before she made her way to the MUHC support group more than a year later.
Talking and sharing with other parents who have lost children has provided immeasurable comfort to both Aubut and her husband. But she questions why getting that crucial care was such a battle.
“If you have two people who were as broken as we were and who are unable to get help, it affects society as a whole.” Aubut said. “When Senna died, I died; the person I was, the ignorance, the hopes, the dreams, my idea that everything happens for a reason. I had to start with the bare bones of me and build myself back up, by myself for a really long time, until I had the group. It’s a shame. It should be better.”
If you have two people who were as broken as we were and who are unable to get help, it affects society as a whole.