Stillbirth: A dad's story ? FabulousMag ? Keeping you Fabulous, 24 ...

The family make sure Keilan will never be forgotten

?Cradling my newborn son in my arms,?I gently kissed his forehead as my tears fell on to his soft skin. For a moment I pretended he was just sleeping, that we would be taking him home from hospital and this nightmare had never happened.

When people ask how many children I have, I say I have three sons. Logan, who?s four, Bailey, just two months old, and Keilan, who was born sleeping on March 4, 2010.

When I heard that Gary Barlow?s daughter Poppy had been stillborn in August, my heart broke for him. I?ve also experienced the unimaginable pain of losing a child in this cruel way, and have lived through every emotion, from anguish and confusion to anger,?which Gary will be feeling right now.

And while people understandably focus on the mother?s grief after a stillbirth, there?s usually a dad in the background, trying to be strong while dealing with his own sorrow.

It?s been two and a half years since Keilan?s stillbirth, but my memory of those awful days remains painfully clear. Waking me in the middle of the night, around 32 weeks into her pregnancy,?my wife Hayley, now 24 and a full-time mum, said she?d felt a ?gurgling? inside her and the baby had stopped moving.

I tried to comfort her, but inside?I was panicking. Although she?d had?a normal pregnancy up until that point, throughout it she kept saying she didn?t feel the same as she had with Logan. Something felt wrong, but she didn?t know what.

We lay there until dawn broke, not wanting to wake Logan ? then just two ??and scare him by rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night. We were also desperately trying to reassure ourselves that everything was fine and we were just overreacting.

First thing in the morning, we?went to Bassetlaw Hospital in Worksop, Nottinghamshire, hoping to be told our baby, whom we?d named weeks before when we discovered we were having another boy, was fine.

Tragic news

But when the midwife couldn?t find his heartbeat and we were sent for an ultrasound, I knew our worst fear had come true.

I looked at the image of our son on the monitor. At previous scans he?d wriggled around and waved to us, but this time?he lay perfectly still.

?I?m so sorry,? the doctor said.??But your baby has died.?

I struggled to breathe, unable to take?in what I had just been told. Then the silence in the darkened room was broken by the sound of Hayley?s sobs. Hearing the raw pain in her cries was awful, and all I could do was hold her and cry too, for the son we would never know.

The doctor explained Hayley would have to come back in four days? time?to be induced and give birth to Keilan.

The thought of her going through the agony of labour, only to deliver a dead baby, filled me with horror. As I held Hayley, I wondered how I would find the strength to support her through it when I was in so much pain myself.

Over the next few days we were in?a daze, breaking down in tears, unable?to sleep. Hayley?s mum, Alison, 49, and stepdad, Simon, 32, helped us care for Logan, and we explained to him that his little brother had gone up to the clouds to live. Keilan?s nursery had been painted blue, his cot was built and the wardrobe was full of little outfits for him, but we put them away, cruel reminders of the baby we would never bring home.

And instead of calling friends and family to tell them my son had been born, I had to tell them he had died.

Dan cherishes time with wife Hayley and sons Logan and Bailey

All dads feel pretty helpless when their wife is giving birth. When Logan was born, there was only so much back rubbing and words of encouragement?I could offer; I knew I wasn?t much help. But on the day Hayley was induced with Keilan I felt completely powerless. What could I possibly say or do to make this less horrific for my distraught wife?

The labour was a roller coaster of emotions. One moment we were calm and resigned to what was happening, and the next we were sobbing in each other?s arms unable to bear it. It was utterly horrendous.

And while I wanted it to be over for Hayley?s sake, part of me didn?t because I knew what the end would bring.

The hardest day

our beautiful son was born at 5.23pm on March 4, 2010. Instead of the piercing cry?of a newborn, there was silence. It was haunting.

We?d talked with the midwife beforehand about what we wanted to do when Keilan was born, and Hayley had decided not to see him. I understood completely; she?d already held him inside her and felt him alive. That?s how she wanted to remember him. However, I wanted to meet my son?and spend some time with him before I had to say goodbye.

Once he was washed and dressed?in the clothes we had brought for him ??a little?pair of blue trousers and a top ? I took him in my arms and rocked him.?I was behind a curtain in the delivery room, so Hayley didn?t have to see.

Holding him, I felt the same overwhelming rush of a father?s love?for him I?d felt at Logan?s birth, only?this time it was accompanied by a tidal wave of grief.

He was tiny, born around seven weeks premature and weighing just 4lb 13oz, but perfectly formed. He looked like Logan, and it was hard to believe they would never grow up together as brothers. Not only had we been robbed of our son, Logan had been robbed of his little brother.

Some people take a photo of their stillborn baby, but I knew I didn?t need to. I can see him whenever I close my eyes, and the memory of those precious few moments with him will never leave me.

Driving away from the hospital that evening without him felt wrong. We should have been taking our son home to start a routine of nappy changes, sleepless nights and watching him grow into a little boy, not leaving him in a hospital morgue. We drove in silence, both of us lost in our own sorrow.

Over the next couple of days?we arranged Keilan?s funeral. It was important for us to have one, to acknowledge his life and his death,?and that he was a part of our family.

A post mortem revealed there was?a problem with Hayley?s placenta and he hadn?t been getting enough oxygen. His heart and bowel were underdeveloped, and had he lived he would have been a very sick child. It was a small comfort to know he didn?t have to suffer in that way.

No one should have to pick out a coffin for their baby, or plan a service with the hospital chaplain, but somehow we found the strength to do it. We chose?a tiny white coffin and invited both our families to join us at the service.

Keilan was cremated on March?15, and his ashes were buried at a local nature reserve where there?s a children?s graveyard. Instead of headstones, you plant a tree, which is a wonderful idea.

In the weeks and months that followed I threw myself into my work, desperate to distract myself.

As a man, you?re meant to be the strong one, and I was drained from hiding my own grief, pulling into lay-bys on my drive to work to sob my heart out.

Looking back, I should have been?at home more to support Hayley, and?for a while our sadness put a distance between us. We didn?t talk enough about what had happened because it was just too painful, and I felt totally helpless when I heard her cry herself to sleep.

As our very raw grief?subsided a little, we were?able to talk about how we felt, and?that helped us feel close again.

Around a year after Keilan?s death, we?decided to try for another baby. We didn?t want Logan to be an only child, but it was a difficult decision, and we were terrified about going through another pregnancy. I felt angry such a happy decision had become tinged with fear.

Trying again

Naturally, we were on edge?for the whole pregnancy ? if the baby stopped moving or Hayley felt a twinge we started to panic. She had a scan every two weeks, but we were never excited like the other parents, just anxious, then relieved when we saw our son was fine.

Hayley was induced on July 19 this year at 37 weeks, because the doctors wanted the baby out as early as was safe. The pregnancy had been normal, but they didn?t want to take any chances of the same thing happening again.

Hearing Bailey, who weighed 7lb 4oz, cry was the most amazing feeling ever. I wept when I held him for the first time, overjoyed we would be bringing this baby home with us.

Now life revolves around cuddles with my boys, bath time and nappy changes.

I talk to Logan and Bailey about their brother in the clouds, and take them to his grave. Logan talks to him, and tells him he misses him. It?s important that they grow up knowing they have another brother, and I don?t want Keilan to be forgotten.

Gary Barlow will learn that time?is a healer. The raw grief does subside eventually, but the pain never leaves you.

Keilan would be a lively, mischievous toddler now, with a cheeky smile, just like his older brother. He may not have ever taken a breath, cuddled up to me for a bedtime story or kicked a football with his dad in the park, but he is my?son and will always be in my heart.?

If you are a parent who has experienced stillbirth you can find support through Towards-tomorrow.com. Or for more information and advice on stillbirth?and miscarriage, visit Uk-sands.org.

Dan wears: shirt and jeans, Burton, shoes, New Look Hayley wears: top, Marks & Spencer, jeans and shoes, New Look Logan and Bailey wear: all clothes their own?As told to: Eimear O?Hagan Photography: Alicia Clark Hair & make-up: Louise Rothwell Styling: Kate Barbour Dan wears: jumper, shirt and jeans, Burton; shoes, New Look Hayley wears: top and jeans, New Look; shoes and bracelet, Primark Logan and Bailey wear: all clothes their own

Source: http://fabulousmag.co.uk/2012/10/08/stillbirth-a-dads-story/

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