Eternal love
When Chantelle Jackson, 24, from West Drayton, exchanged rings with her new hubby, it meant more to them than most
There was nothing where Twin Two’s heartbeat should be
Scrolling through my phone, I whooped. It was January 2017 and I’d just found The One.
Not a man, not a wedding dress… A double buggy!
‘Look at it,’ I beamed at my fiance Dean, 30. ‘It’s just the right shade of grey, the handles are leather and, most importantly, it’ll fit two babies.’
After almost three years of trying, the unbelievable had happened.
Not only were we having twins, but the doctors had just confirmed at our 16-week scan that they were both boys.
Two little brothers for our daughter Lily, 4. Now I couldn’t stop shopping. Cute co-ordinating rompers, Moses baskets, car seats and baby blankets – and two of everything, of course.
Our house was fit to burst. It was shaping up to be an expensive couple of years.
Dean and I were getting married in March 2018 – 10 months after the twins were due.
As months went by and my bump grew, we pushed aside thoughts of guests lists and table plans, and focused on preparing for the boys’ arrival. ‘Twin One is called Chase and Twin Two is Riley,’ I smiled to the sonographer at Hillingdon Hospital in March 2017.
I’d got used to having monthly scans to check the twins’ progress. Loved seeing them on the screen.
And, in between, my bump grew to a massive size.
I can’t wait to hold you boys for the first time, I thought, posing for a photo in May 2017, at 32weeks pregnant. The following week, I was at home when I felt a sharp pain.
‘I hope it’s not early labour,’ I winced to Dean.
I tried not to worry, as he drove me to Hillingdon Hospital, leaving Lily with my mum Sharron, 46.
‘I’m only 33-weeks,’ I told the midwife, as I was taken for an emergency scan.
Watching the screen flicker to life, I saw the familiar pulsing blink of Twin One’s heartbeat as the sonographer moved the scanner over my belly. ‘That’s Chase,’ I murmured.
But, as the sonographer moved the scanner, there was nothing where Twin Two’s heartbeat should be.
The silence was deafening. A doctor appeared, examined me and inspected the scan. Before he spoke, I knew.
‘He’s gone, hasn’t he?’ I sobbed, as Dean held my hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said to us gently.
Riley had passed away hours earlier.
‘Why?’ I wailed. No-one could give me answers.
I felt numb as the doctor explained I’d be kept in hospital overnight.
I couldn’t sleep. Just lay there, praying it was all a nightmare.
The following day, after 12 hours of labour, I pushed Chase into the world.
I heard him cry and saw him squirm as the midwife checked him.
Then, just minutes later, tiny Riley was born.
I prayed that the doctors were wrong and that he’d wriggle and cry, too.
But the room was quiet, as the midwife lifted him gently onto my chest. I bowed my head and rested my cheek against his.
‘This shouldn’t have happened!’ I cried.
The midwife brought Chase over to me. ‘Would you like to hold them both?’ she asked. I nodded.
My one and only chance. Time stopped, as I wrapped my arms gently around my boys. My babies – so alike, with their tiny noses and tufts of soft hair. So perfect. It was the moment I’d been dreaming of, but I felt lost. It wasn’t long before
We know that we’ll stick together through anything
Chase was lifted out of my arms again.
‘He has to go into an incubator now,’ the midwife explained to us.
He needed a feeding tube and constant monitoring in the Special Care Baby Unit.
As he was taken away, Riley was placed in a cold cot beside my bed.
I gazed at him, wrapped in blankets, and the tears kept falling. Dean was bereft, too.
We felt torn. We wanted to be with Chase, but needed to say a proper goodbye to Riley.
Between visits to Chase’s incubator, Dean and I spent 24 hours cuddling Riley, taking photos and trying to memorise every little detail of him.
My parents brought little
Lily into see us.
‘Riley can’t come home with us,’ I explained gently. ‘He’s going to heaven.’
She frowned, couldn’t make sense of it.
None of us could…
The next day, I said my last goodbye to Riley. Then the nurses took him away.
We had to focus on Chase. ‘Mummy and Daddy love you,’ I whispered, reaching into his incubator and stroking his tiny arms.
After four days, I was discharged, but Chase needed further treatment after developing jaundice.
Leaving hospital without either of my boys, I felt as if my heart had been ripped out.
Thankfully, five days later, Chase was discharged, too.
But bringing home only one baby felt so wrong.
I couldn’t bear to see the matching Moses baskets waiting in our bedroom, sobbed over my perfect buggy in the hall, the tiny matching outfits…
‘Get rid of it all,’ I told Dean, sadly.
He was struggling, too, he wanted to be strong for me, but kept breaking down.
We sold the double buggy and gave away the unneeded equipment to relatives who were having a baby. At least, that way, the items could be used.
But we were on an emotional rollercoaster.
Between changing Chase’s nappies and taking Lily to nursery, we also had to plan Riley’s funeral.
One day, when Lily was at nursery, I walked to the funeral parlour near our home.
Sitting beside Riley’s coffin, with Chase on my lap, I opened a copy of the children’s book The Gruffalo, and began to read aloud.
‘The only time I’ll be able to read you two a story together,’ I whispered.
After Riley’s funeral, in June 2017, we kept the urn filled with his ashes at home.
On bad days, I’d sit and cradle them, wanting to feel close to him again.
A post-mortem hadn’t brought us any answers.
Riley’s death was unexplained.
‘I should have protected him!’ I sobbed.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Dean said, wrapping his arms around me.
During all this, our wedding plans had been on hold.
But, by August 2017, we forced ourselves to get organised.
‘We need something positive to focus on,’
Dean said.
Picking a bridesmaid dress for Lily, to match my ivory lace gown, and a tiny checked suit for Chase, to match Dean’s, I felt empty. Riley should be here too, I thought. Choosing wedding rings in September 2017, we had an idea. At the funeral parlour months earlier, we’d seen a leaflet for Ashes into Glass, a company that makes jewellery from ashes. ‘We could get wedding rings made from Riley’s ashes,’ I said.
It was unusual, but it felt right.
We chose matching gold rings with deep-blue glass inserts, sending off a small quantity of Riley’s ashes which were rolled into the glass and then placed into the rings. In March 2018, Dean and I exchanged our vows in front of 80 family and friends. Placing the wedding bands on each other’s fingers, we gazed tearfully at each other, knew that we’d stick together through anything. Posing for family photos afterwards, with Chase in my arms, I felt a pang.
But glancing down at my wedding ring, I felt a sense of peace. In that moment, I knew our precious boy would always be with us. They say wedding rings are a symbol of eternal, endless love. Just like our love for Riley.