in loving memory
Hundreds of strangers around the globe helped Emma Woodhouse, 27, from Lancaster, through her heartache...
Stepping through the door of A&E, I panicked as my waters broke
Having met Paul in 2012, I was thinking about children as we fell blissfully in love.
And he was just as eager to start a family as I was.
But it wasn’t going to be easy. Aged 15, after months of agonising stomach pains, I’d been diagnosed with a cyst on my bladder.
During the operation to remove it, doctors had found that I had a heart-shaped womb, meaning I’d be at high risk of miscarriage or having a premature baby.
‘We have to try,’ I told Paul, 21. At first, we were full of nervous excitement.
But in October 2012, we went through the heartache of a molar pregnancy – where a foetus doesn’t form properly – then endured a second blow when I miscarried in March 2013.
But it was worth all the pain when I fell pregnant in May 2013 and our son Jack was born that November.
His brother Mikey was born in October 2014, then Nicole in September 2016.
I adored my little family. But in January this year, I noticed Nicole wasn’t as interested in breastfeeding any more.
When a friend mentioned it was a sign I might be pregnant, I took a test and discovered we were expecting our fourth child! It was a surprise – but a welcome one. Only this pregnancy felt different. My symptoms were stronger.
Scared I was going through another molar pregnancy, we booked in for an early scan.
Lying on the bed at the Royal Lancaster Infirmary, my heart raced as the sonographer called a colleague for a second opinion.
I’ve lost the baby, I thought. Then the sonographer turned to us with a smile.
‘You’re having twins!’ she announced.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Paul cried, stroking my hair.
We knew the risks were overwhelming, especially with twins.
But in March a scan showed two healthy, growing babies. Two girls!
Naming the twins Jessica and
Isabella – Bella for short – made it suddenly feel so real.
Choosing matching girls’ outfits, I loved telling the kids they would soon have two more sisters.
The girls were due on 2 September.
But on 21 June, the day before my baby shower, I woke up in the night needing the loo.
When I spotted pale-pink blood, I woke Paul up. Luckily, the kids were at my mum’s, so we raced to the Royal Lancaster A&E.
Stepping through the door, my waters broke.
It’s too early, I panicked, but the babies were on their way.
Injected with anaesthetic, I fell asleep, thinking about the girls I’d meet just hours later...
Only, when I opened my eyes, I saw tears streaming down Paul’s face.
‘I’m sorry, darling, they couldn’t save Jessica,’ he sobbed.
‘What?’ I stammered, praying I’d misheard him. ‘Make them fix her, please, this can’t happen.’
My heart broke as Paul explained Bella had been born healthy, weighing 2lb 11oz, but Jessica, weighing 2lb 3oz, wasn’t as well as her sister.
There had been a placental abruption, where the placenta separates from the uterus.
Doctors had tried to resuscitate Jessica for 22 minutes, but it was no good. She’d slipped away.
‘I want to see her,’ I cried. So the doctor
All those people had been touched by our story...
brought Jessica into the ward for me. She was wrapped in a blanket and looked so fragile and beautiful.
I held her to my skin, stroking her head, willing her to open her eyes so I could escape this nightmare.
‘Please wake up,’ I whispered. But she didn’t.
Paul and I were taken to the Bereavement Suite, where we stayed with Jessica, while Bella was in Intensive Care.
Holding Jessica, I wanted to soak up every moment.
We took her for a walk in a pram, in the hospital grounds – and, watching the sunrise with her in my arms, I wondered how I’d ever let her go.
A photographer came in to take pictures of Bella and Jessica together and us as a
family, and we had casts made of her hands and feet.
Laying Bella next to her sister, her heart rate settled almost immediately. They were meant to be together. ‘When should we leave?’ I asked a nurse after two nights in the suite. ‘Whenever you feel ready,’ she replied.
But I honestly thought I’d never feel ready.
It was during these dark days in the suite that I posted a Facebook message about my emotions after the stillbirth. A torrent of support flooded in from people, offering wise words and condolences, sharing their own personal stories. It was incredible not to feel alone in my grief. I started to think about what I could do to keep Jessica’s memory alive. Spotting a post where someone had asked their followers to share pictures of their late father’s name and picture across the world,
I was inspired.
So I asked my friends to post snaps of where they were, with a piece of paper saying, In memory of Jessica Jean Woodhouse.
I wanted her to travel the world, see places I hoped all my children would see one day.
The post went viral. Suddenly I was receiving messages from people in Australia, the USA, South America, Pakistan, dozens of places across Europe.
‘This is incredible,’ Paul said, seeing his daughter’s name across the world.
Telling social media about our suffering was hard, but I next had to tell our children. My mum was looking after them at our home, but they’d soon start asking questions.
Jack visited us in hospital, believing he’d meet his two new sisters.
‘Bella will come home, but Jessica is an angel now,’ I told him softly.
‘OK, Mummy, I won’t forget her,’ he said.
After four nights at the Bereavement Suite, something told me I was finally ready to take Jessica to the mortuary.
Crying the whole way, I desperately wanted to take her home instead.
Over the next few days, we prepared for her funeral.
Visiting our baby in the mortuary every day, we couldn’t bear to be away from her.
We played her In the Arms of an Angel by Sarah Mclachlan, and read her Beatrix Potter books – everything we would do if she was alive.
Visiting Bella, too – still in Intensive Care – I felt so lucky she was healthy...but so sad she’d never know her sister.
Two weeks after she was born, we held Jessica’s funeral at a crematorium, with family and close friends.
As her tiny white coffin was carried into the service, I thought my heart would never heal from the pain.
Bringing Bella home four weeks later was so bittersweet.
I adored my little girl, but laying her down in her cot, I was desperately sad Jessica wasn’t next to her.
Some days, I found it hard to get out of bed.
But in the darkest moments, I’d look at the tributes to Jessica from strangers all around the world and I’d feel less alone.
All those people had been touched by our story, probably because they’d lost loved ones.
But they all kept going. And I had to, too.
Now Bella is 16 weeks old and she’s doing so well, with the help of her siblings Nicole, 1, Mikey, 3, and Jack, 4.
But I will always be a mummy of five children.
And Jessica will live on forever in my heart.