Since leaving the hospital, my mind often wandered to the midwives who I believed had been a part of our story. I thought of Amanda, Maya, Danielle and of course Emily and hoped they were doing ok. We had received a gift in the mail containing the beautiful picture book ‘for my little moonflower’ written and illustrated by Tara Sea from the team a few weeks prior. They had also added a personal message on the inside stating Louis had touched many of their hearts and would be forever remembered. At the time I reminded myself that I needed to put something together for them to say thank you for all they did for us while in their care, but I needed to find the words.
Finally, after two weeks I was able to relive the good, the bad and the ugly memories of Louis’ arrival into this world and personally put our gratitude onto paper.
To Midwifery staff,
David, Charlie and myself wanted to thank you for your care during our recent stay in the ward, and more importantly your care of our beautiful boy, Louis.
Although we didn’t know what to expect, we understand that a number of times you went above and beyond your duty of care.
To hear Louis addressed as if he were alive is something we will always hold dear, along with the tears and laughs we shared.
Since arriving home, we have spent a lot of time researching others grief and a common statement makes reference to ‘Standing Silent’. The silence when no heartbeat is heard during an ultrasound, the lack of a baby’s cry during birth, or the silence from those who struggle to find the words. It is with thanks to your entire team that we never heard that silence, because you all protected us from hearing it.
Although we will always be saddened by our loss, we have found ways to laugh about some of the experiences during our stay. Including the day, I finally got my roast dinner instead of scrambled eggs, but was then horrified that it may have been one of the special care nurses pet cows! These stories will always be remembered along-side our memories of our beautiful boy.
On August 7, we were able to give Louis the send-off he deserved, and we were able to do so with his big brother Charlie by our sides. Charlie laid a single white rose upon Louis’ casket and surprised us all when he scream-cried goodbye as his baby brother was taken away in the hearse. The whole experience was bittersweet but we’re so thankful to have experienced their brotherhood bond.
We have decided to give Louis a special place where others can visit and spend time with him always, at Numurkah Cemetery. They have a beautiful rock fountain feature which includes a plaque and placement of the ashes beneath the boulder of our choosing.
Once everything is finalised, we’re hoping to do a butterfly release in memory of our beautiful boy.
We have also decided that every year on Louis’ birthday we would like to donate a gift to another family to enjoy and celebrate the birth of their child – we hope this would be ok to do so? And eventually we will get Louis’ plaque organised for your memory wall display.
Again, thank you for being a part of our memories of Louis, and know that words will never be enough to express our gratitude.
Please see that this letter makes its way to all of those who were touched by ‘Our Little Louis’.
Love from,
Maddy, Dave and Charlie Byron xxx
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While organising a delivery of flowers to pair with my letter, I was met with an overwhelming force of empathy from a kind stranger. I had opted to go into Renato’s Florist in Shepparton to organise the delivery because it meant I could pass over the letter also, rather than emailing in about our situation. The lady who served me kept things professional and she didn’t pry but something told me I could trust her and I was able to form the words ‘we actually lost our baby’. She reached across the counter and put her hand on my arm and said ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, what did you have?’ to which she followed with ‘What did you name him?’. Her kindness was so true and as she continued, I realised where her sixth sense had come from – she asked me if I was getting the support I needed, as she had a friend who organises ‘Memory Boxes’ for bereaved parents.
Fortunately, I had already received a ‘Memory Box’ through Sarah’s connections. The small organisation was a part of the ‘Cherish Honour Community’ and the ‘With Love’ project which was driven by two women, Erin and Tammy, and their families. Pre-COVID times, the hospital had a supply to donate to bereaved parents, however as most of us are aware, things have changed, and unfortunately this is no longer. However, like myself, these mothers still grieve for their babies and this project is in honour of them and in support of those who follow. The beautifully wooden calved box contained a hand-crafted blanket, a personalised photo album and a story book titled ‘On the night you were born’ by Nancy Tillman. Sarah reassured me that she would be making contacts to bring this connection back into the hospitals.
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I’m not sure what happened between arriving home from organising the flowers and the following day, but I knew when I went to bed that night that I wasn’t ok. I was feeling frustrated and Dave had been quiet and I had planned to drop Charlie off to day-care and return home to just be within my own thoughts. But while in town I decided to get some food from the bakery (that I had worked at in what seems like a previous life). Whilst walking back to my car, I noticed a lady walking towards me, holding the hand of a child that attended the centre I worked at, but she hadn’t noticed me. I smiled and waited to make eye contact, but she was rushing to cross the road and didn’t see me – embarrassed I kept walking past her, only to lose my footing and fall to my hands and knees. THEN she noticed me! She asked if I was ok and I quickly responded as I struggled to get up off the ground.
I made it to my car before bursting into tears, to which I sat for a few moments before pulling out of the carpark – but I couldn’t stop crying and I started to wonder if I could make it home safely. I kept breathing and the tears kept coming. I made it home, but that dreaded fear of the ‘rage’ returning had reared its ugly head and I screamed out everything I was feeling once inside the safety of our home. I was still crying and I couldn’t see a way out – I needed help and the only person who would understand, was Dave.
Although he had received phone calls over the years, it was never anything like this – I couldn’t get the words out and I couldn’t breathe. Usually he could talk me down, but this time he needed to get in the car and hurry.
He was already halfway home before I realised the noise of the car in the background of the phone call. He knew I needed him and we ended up spending the rest of the day together. I was exhausted and I was scared, but I was able to understand that I had been overwhelmed by the previous day and that I needed to listen to my body in the future. This trigger was something I had tried so hard to avoid and I would need to work hard to stop the pattern from reoccurring again.
'Our Little Louis' 