Stories of Lost Grandchildren
My Angel Michaela Lee
by Leanne Weich, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
My story starts on 18 December 1999 when my second daughter got married. From day 1, all I wanted was a grandchild and told both Trish, my daughter and son-in-law, Shane, that I expected to be a granny by next Christmas. As my children live in South Africa whilst my husband, my younger daughter and I live in Australia, the phone bills steadily crept up with my constant phone calls to South Africa to find out if they had fallen pregnant yet. My husband constantly teased me about prying into the children's sex life because I would ask my son-in-law if he was sure he knew what he was doing. To my extreme delight, in March I got the much anticipated confirmation that I was indeed going to be a grandmother in September. I was duly ecstatic and got out my needles, wool and baby patterns and knitted non-stop. In April I had occasion to return to South Africa for a friend's funeral and spent hours touching my daughter's non-existent tummy and singing to the baby. I bored everyone to death talking about the baby and was constantly teased about not being the first person to ever be a grandmother. I returned to Australia at the end of April, upset that I was not going to be with the children during the rest of the pregnancy. In July, however, I returned to South Africa with my youngest daughter and left her in the care of her sisters while my sister, brother-in-law, my husband and I went to the Greek Islands to scatter my mother's ashes in accordance with her last wishes. We returned to South Africa on 17 July 2000 and I was disturbed to see that Trisha was hardly showing any signs of being pregnant. She then informed me that the doctor had got results from her blood work which showed that one of her levels indicated a 98% possibility of the baby having a neural tube defect. I made numerous enquiries of various medical professionals and all advised me that if this was indeed the case, it would be better to terminate the pregnancy as this condition is not compatible with life. Trisha then went for a more advanced scan and was told that the baby was perfectly fine and that her dates were a bit out, hence the incorrect reading. Feeling more relaxed and, on 21 April we went to a steakhouse for our last supper before leaving to return to Australia. Whilst at the steakhouse my youngest daughter and her friend were playing with helium filled balloons, inhaling the helium and then talking like chipmonks. We were quite convinced that this was an act and my son-in-law then gave it a go himself and when he also spoke like a chipmonk we all laughed hysterically. Trisha then got up to go to the restroom and came back as white as a sheet and told me that her panties were sopping wet and that she had definitely not wet herself. I asked her if there were any signs of blood and she assured me there was not. I told her that often when one is pregnant you do not have as good control over your bladder as usual and that provided she was not in any pain, she should go home, have a bath and get some sleep, which she duly did. The next morning she contacted her doctor who told her to go to his rooms immediately. He did an u/s scan and told Trish that she was 22 weeks pregnant and that her waters had broken and that she needed to be admitted to hospital immediately to ensure that she was monitored closely so that if she went into labour they could try to stop it as the baby was too small to survive. When I got to the hospital a while later, her doctor was with her and told me that they would try to get her to between 25 and 30 weeks to afford the baby a chance of survival. Trish was in hospital for 2 weeks and then discharged to continue bedrest at home. The doctors were hoping she would build up more amniotic fluid. This did not happen and she was re-admitted to hospital on 6 September for steroid injections to help mature the baby's lungs. On the afternoon of 8 September Trish was discharged and the doctor told her he would perform a c-section on 11 September. She telephoned me immediately she got home and asked me to get there as soon as possible. It was already late Friday night here and Qantas was closed. The following morning I phoned and booked a seat on the plane to arrive in South Africa on the morning of 9 September (South African time). At midnight on Saturday evening, the telephone rang and it was my eldest daughter telling me that Trish had been rushed to hospital for an emergency c-section and had a beautiful little girl who was in NICU. She did not seem to know too much of what was going on so I asked her to get my son-in-law to phone me which he did a couple of hours later. He then told me that Trish had had a tummy ache in the morning and was sure she was getting an upset tummy but that by the afternoon she realised she might possibly be in labour, at which stage they went to the hospital where the doctor was waiting for them. Trish had the c-section within minutes of arriving at hospital and delivered a perfect baby girl who weighed in at 1.25 kgs. She did not cry and the paediatrician took her to NICU immediately and she was put on a ventilator as her lungs were not mature enough to breathe on her own. My son-in-law was told that she was otherwise healthy and that the outlook looked good. The doctor did, however, say that it would be a while before she would be out of hospital - his words were that he expected she would "take 6 steps forward and 2 steps back" for a while. I was extremely distessed at the events and told my son-in-law that I would be there on Monday. I got regular progress reports and photographs scanned through to me the next day. I was so proud of my daughter and granddaughter that I thought I would burst with pride. On Sunday evening I got on the plane with my scanned photos and showed everyone I spoke to whether they were interested or not. I arrived in Johannesburg at 5.30 a.m. on Monday, 10 September and was met by my best friend at the airport. We set off for a cup of coffee, at which stage I turned my mobile phone on. Almost immediately it rang and I answered to hear my eldest daughter crying on the other end of the phone. It did not dawn on me that there could possibly be a problem with my grandchild and I asked her what was wrong, only to be told the Michaela had died the previous evening. I went completely hysterical and told her that I would find out if I could get on an earlier connecting flight to Durban. I rushed to the departure hall and told the lady at the desk that I had to get on the plane which was about ready to take off. She looked at me as if I had lost my mind and, when my friend explained what had happened, she held the plane up and got me on it. My friend then phoned my daughter in Durban to tell her someone should fetch me at the airport in an hour. That was the longest hour in my life. I could not stop crying and everyone in the plane were looking at me and whispering. I was furious that life was going on as usual around me while my life had just fallen apart. Upon arriving in Durban, I rushed into the terminal building expecting my sister or eldest daughter to be there to meet me. The first people I saw were my Trish and son-in-law. Needless to say the 3 of us hugged one another and balled our eyes out. I was distressed that Trish had been discharged from hospital within 8 hours of her baby dying but she assured me that she was fine physically and could not have stayed there one more minute. On the way from the airport to their home, they told me that at about 8.30 the previous evening one of their paediatrician's associates had called them and told them that Michaela was unlikely to survive the night and asked them if they wanted her taken off the life support system. They then told him they needed to discuss it and he left them alone. A couple of minutes later he returned and told them they did not have to decide as she had just passed away. At that stage they returned to Trisha's room to tell my eldest daughter what had happened and a nurse came in and moved Trisha's things to a private ward on another floor and told her that she would bring Michaela to her in a minute. Neither Trish nor Shane had ever held their daughter until she had already passed away and Vanessa, my eldest daughter, saw her then for the first time. I was horrified to hear that they had not seen Michaela's paediatrician at all since she had died, nor were they told what had transpired. At no stage were they ever told that she was in danger of not making it. Later that day we contacted the funeral home and made arrangements to go in and see Michaela and arrange for her cremation the following day. When we got to go into the "visiting room", the smallest casket imaginable was standing on a table in the middle of the room and I could not believe a baby could possibly be in there. When we removed the lid I thought my heart would break. My precious grandchild looked so peaceful and beautiful and it took me back 22 years to when her mother had been born. She was her mother's double, but about half her size. I held her, sang "You are my sunshine" to her and cried copious tears. So much for me going to be strong for the children. As I held Michaela I willed God to let her start breathing and take me in her place. Her mom and dad then held her and said their final goodbyes. We then went out to make arrangements for the cremation when the undertaker asked if we had brought something for her to be dressed in. We had not given this a thought and told him we would bring something in a bit later. After leaving the funeral home we discussed the fact that we could not believe the hospital had sent her to the mortuary naked and not in one of the hospital gowns. We then went out to buy something for Michaela to be cremated in as everything she had at home would have been miles too big for her. We eventually settled on a doll's outfit and took it back to the funeral home and asked if we could see Michaela the following day just before the service. The following morning we duly arrived at the funeral home and were again shown into the "visiting room" where Michaela lay looking as pretty as a picture. I took her out of her casket and held her while my son-in-law took some photos and I then took photos of them holding her. We all then kissed her goodbye and her mom placed a photograph of herself and Shane on Michaela's chest while I put a letter I had written her once she was born and a tiny teddy bear into her tiny coffin and we then closed the lid and left for the adjoining church. I stood outside the church looking back at the funeral home, knowing that my precious angel was so close yet I could never see her again. My daughter then came and took my arm and led me inside the church. She later told me that she was terrified I was going to take off and go back to Michaela. I cannot remember anything of the service and Michaela was then cremated privately. In December of last year, Trish and Shane told me that they were ready to try again and assured me that I would be a granny again by Christmas 2001. On 8 March this year I got to the phone call telling me that Trish was pregnant again. I was very happy for them although still grieving for Michaela and apprehensive about another pregnancy so close. In July I went to South Africa to visit with the children and accompanied Trish to her gynaecological appointment. Her doctor assured me that things were looking good and that this was a healthy pregnancy. He then did an ultrasound scan so that I could see my precious grandchild for myself. He/she was moving around vigorously. In August we brought Trish and Shane out to Australia for a holiday and took them to New Zealand so that they were not in familiar surroundings on Michaela's birth and death days. Both days were extremely hard for us all although we did try to make the most of them. The past year has been incredibly difficult and filled with buckets of tears. I have been through so many stages, pure unadulterated grief, anger, frustration and many others. I am now preparing to return to South Africa on 15 November so that I can be at the next scan on 16 November when we will, hopefully, find out if the baby is a boy or girl. This makes no difference to us as we will all love it irrespective of its sex. I pray every night that this time we will be blessed with a healthy child. Sorry that this is so long. If anyone would like to e-mail me, my address is aweich@bigpond.net.au. For all the parents and grandparents who are grieving, my heart goes out to each and every one of you. You will never forget, but it does get easier. God bless you all. Leanne (Mum to Michaela)
|
