Daddy’s girl and mummy’s world
A mother shares her journey of grief after losing her seven-month-old baby.
I STILL remember the morning of Dec 30, 2021. The hospital nurse called and asked my husband and me to get there as quickly as we could. I knew what the news would be. I was prepared because I knew this day was coming.
When we arrived at bed No.4, a few nurses and doctors surrounded my baby. The doctor told me these exact words, “I’m sorry mummy, Khaviyaa is no longer with us.” My whole world came tumbling down.
I carried Khaviyaa Ashrielle. Her body was still warm, her face so pink, full of innocence. I could see the calmness on her face. My baby was sleeping peacefully, free from all pain.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as my husband hugged me and our precious baby. Imagine being in this state. Which parent could bear the death of their child? That’s the grief my family and I are going through.
Flashback
During my pregnancy, numerous complications arose after my second trimester commenced. My gynae told me that my baby was measuring smaller than she should be. I was shuffled from one hospital to another for opinions.
Finally, at Week 31, I was admitted to a government hospital in my hometown till delivery. This meant that I was going to be there for six weeks! Imagine, no visitors due to Covid-19 restrictions, no husband or family to care for you and lying in bed all day.
I used to be a fussy person but I chose to stay in the ward for the safety of my baby. I was advised about the risk involved if I were to stay home without close monitoring.
For 45 days, I shared the ward with other mothers, watching them deliver their babies The days passed slowly, and the most awaited day finally came, May 12, 2021. I was wheeled into the operation theatre and the procedure began. At 10:30am, my princess was born. I heard her beautiful cry!
Due to some complications, the doctors rushed her to the intensive care unit. After three days, I was allowed to go home. My dream of bringing my baby home when I was discharged was shattered. My baby had to stay in intensive care unit as they suspected she had multiple issues such as chromosome abnormalities, cleft palate, a hole in her heart – and needed close monitoring.
Throughout that time, I visited her daily. Finally, on June 16, she was discharged. We named our princess Khaviyaa Ashrielle. She was on a feeding tube due to her inability to swallow.
Our days were bright and we were all excited to love and care for her. She was so loved by everyone, especially by my parents as they were new grandparents!
Our joy only lasted for a month. She had to be readmitted due to aspiration pneumonia and her condition was critical. To sum up a long story, she spent three months at the paediatric intensive care unit (PICU).
My husband and I went through a lot during this time. I was allowed to visit her daily but only for a couple of hours. There were days the doctors told us she was deteriorating.
Our positive mindset and prayers somehow kept us going.
As she got better, we were delighted and waited for the doctor to allow us to bring her home. Imagine that excitement after going through a “hurricane” for three months. We were called in for a counselling session. Six people surrounded my husband and me.
We were told that our baby was going to be discharged but she would be under palliative care. At first, we were clueless about what this meant. Only later did we understand that our daughter had limited days left with us. She would be coming home to spend some time with us before she leaves us.
Imagine how we felt hearing this. Were we supposed to be happy that finally Khaviyaa was coming home? Or to worry about this news? Khaviyaa came home and we spent so many beautiful moments together. I chose not to think of the palliative care. I would play, sing, cuddle and sing nursery rhymes to my baby girl. She even responded by smiling. Her smiles were priceless! She even sometimes said “Amma” which means mum. I’m not sure if she’s mumbling or if she learnt the word. All of us had our beautiful moments with baby Khaviyaa Ashrielle.
Things took a turn for the worse in the last week of December. She had rapid breathing again. We had to readmit her to the hospital.
I felt weak and broken.
It was her first Christmas. I remember spending that Christmas morning with her in the ward.
She wore a jumpsuit which read My First Christmas. Little did I know, that it would also be her last Christmas. Every new parent dreams about celebrating festivals with their babies. I only had the chance to celebrate my 30th birthday with her in my arms. Every other special occasion was spent in the hospital.
During the hospital stay, the doctor told me that Khaviyaa may not go home. I felt shattered. I cried and begged Khaviyaa not to leave me. She fought hard. She was literally breathing like a fish.
A week later, my husband and me went to the ICU and as we stood next to her, she opened her tired-looking eyes and gazed at us. She gripped our fingers tightly, something that she had never done.
I said to her, “Khaviyaa, if you really need to go, it’s okay, you can go. Amma loves you so much. Don’t hold on for me, I can see you’re suffering.” Would any mother utter such words to their baby? I had to. I could see clearly that she was holding on for me. The very next morning, my baby girl passed away.
I lost my seven-month-old baby. All the sacrifices I had made during my pregnancy ended there. Days and months passed. My hurt grew with time, it didn’t heal. I felt hurt seeing other parents with their children. I wondered if I could celebrate Mother’s Day. Somehow, as I journeyed through this grief, I learnt that my baby is actually still with me. She’s in heaven, watching over her mummy and daddy. She saw every tear I cried.
She was a strong baby, who fought hard, and I should follow her example. Instead of focusing on her death, I choose to focus on her life. I am not living without her, I’m living with her in a new way. I know those dark paths that grief can take you, I’ve been there, wishing life would end. Growth is what I’ve discovered during my grief. Healing will take time, but when it happens, it will be beautiful.