Eileen’s Story

Our first three sons were born premature, so they spent the first weeks of their lives in the neonatal unit, separated from us. In 1995 I became pregnant again, receiving great care from the doctors and consultants due to my history but that still didn’t prevent this from happening again.

On Christmas Eve 1995, I went into premature labour thirteen weeks early, giving birth to a 2lb 11oz baby girl. When she arrived they give her a fifty-fifty chance of surviving, but within a couple of hours that hope disappeared due to her extreme prematurity. Her lungs weren’t developed, they had collapsed, and the doctors couldn’t see how she could possibly survive.

Still in shock from her traumatic birth and having to digest the information I was being told, I was asked to make a decision on her treatment. This was beyond words and overwhelming.

We had her christened Lisa Marie, then waited and watched, every minute like an hour, for her tiny little body to respond to the special medication she received. Our only hope. She did respond and a little grain of light crept back into our lives - just enough for us to hang onto.

It’s not until you find yourself in this situation, that you realise what a miracle a baby is. A healthy baby is actually taken for granted so often.

When I sat in this unit listening to and watching the doctors treating these little babies, I began to realise how many different complications can arise. No words can explain how helpless and hopeless a parent feels when they find themselves in this position. As a parent - and especially being a mother - you are meant to be able to care for your child, make everything better for them.

For six and a half weeks Lisa Marie fought many battles as we stayed by her side, but in the end, her life here on Earth was no longer to be. On the 7th Feb 1996, our little angel slipped away as we held her in our arms.

Her battle was over, but for me, it was just starting.

The pain in my heart felt unbearable, even to take a deep breath was a struggle. The intense weight of the pain was like a heavy JCB sitting on top of my chest. I was totally immersed with fear. My whole world was a scary place, feeling insecure, both inside and outside my home. I can only begin to describe it like a lion was roaring inside me. If you have ever lost your child when out in a crowd, even for a few minutes, and have experienced that panic and fear, then try to imagine living in that - the endless search for answers.

The nights were long, afraid to sleep, afraid of the nightmares and if I did sleep I dreaded waking to another dark day. Weeks turned into months and it wasn’t getting any easier. In many ways, it was getting more difficult - especially at Christmas time. Others expected me to accept it as something that had happened, it was now in the past and it was time to just get on with life. Maybe once I was that person too, if only it was that easy.

I’ve never been one for prescription drugs and even though I was in the depth of despair it still wasn’t a road for me to go down. Something in me knew I had to dig deep within myself to come to terms with what had happened.

After six months of trying to cope on my own, I finally give in and went for counselling. This was the first feeling of relief that I felt. To have someone listen to me, to hear my pain, even if they didn’t fully understand, it was so helpful. It gave me that flicker of hope that I needed, so I could be there for my husband and three young children.

The process was slow. I began to view life differently and became very aware not to be judgmental towards others - we really don’t know what anyone else is carrying. Ten years later through different therapies and self-help books, I had come to some kind of acceptance but still hadn’t found peace. A part of me knew I was only existing and not truly living my life.

The search continued, until I was led to a workshop that changed my life. Within a few days I had a lightbulb moment:

I was doing this to myself. Lisa Marie was at peace and it was my time to make peace with me. I was the one holding onto the pain and grief.

WHY?

1. I didn’t know until then that I was

2. I wasn’t aware that I could let it go

3. I didn’t know how

4. I didn’t know if I wanted to

To let go of the pain and grief felt as if I was letting go of my precious baby girl. That was my connection with her - as long as I felt the pain I felt close to her. The more pain I felt the more proof I had of loving her. This couldn’t be further from the Truth.

It was now my time to rewrite my story. I brought up the happy memories we had with her. For the first time, I let myself see the blessings and experience the joy and love that she had brought to us.

I created the image in my mind of how I wanted to remember Christmas Eve. I imagined one big party and her in the middle of it all. I even put the song from Slade to it, “I wish it could be Christmas every day”. From that minute Christmas took on a very different meaning. Not only Christmas but the meaning of Lisa Marie’s life to myself and the family. It was through this understanding that I was able to release all the pain and connect with Lisa Marie with pure unconditional love. In unconditional love, there is no separation only pure heartfelt present.