Tuesday, 17 January 2012
23:00 | Posted by Caz | Edit Post
Last night I watched the first episode of Call the Midwife on iPlayer.
There was a miracle; a stillborn baby lived.
Jon was unsure whether I would be able to watch Call the Midwife as I cannot cope with OBEM; due to the era the series is set, post war 1950s, infant mortality would probably be a given. As I've said previously, even is storyland I find it hard to sit through baby death.
So I was watching it; scenes of overcrowding and poverty. Children being born at home in dirty conditions. Even though I knew it was acting I was a little shocked, realising how fortunate we are today with an established NHS (despite its faults) access to hospitals and mostly excellent care. The NHS then was still in its fledgling days.
Episode 1, some of the story went like this;
A lady, 30 (ish) weeks pregnant had a fall and went into labour. The parents were told it would be unlikely that their baby at such a small gestation would survive the birth and to prepare themselves for the worst. Facilities for caring for premature babies in the 1950s were not widely available, survival for such small babies was unusual.
The baby arrived, grey and pale and declared dead. Placed aside in a dish and not even shown to the parents, not even told if their baby was a boy or a girl. Baby treated like a non-person. I found this treatment of the tiny baby and their family particularly difficult to watch. I'm so thankful that times have moved on significantly and the memories and bonds we were able to form with Anabelle. I cannot imagine not being allowed to meet my child simply because they were dead.
But then what I found even harder to watch than that was the miracle. The miracle that parents of all born sleeping babies wish so hard for.
The dead baby cried. Five minutes after birth, from their discarded dish their baby came back to life. Swiftly wrapped up and reunited with his parents.
Where was our miracle? Why can that only happen in story land?
So Call the Midwife took me back to our silent delivery room. To those minutes where we desperately wished it to be a terrible mistake after Anabelle was born. Looking at her, holding her and willing her to breathe. To somehow be alive. To cry.
Anabelle stayed dead. How am I ever going to really come to terms with it? My daughter is dead. Call the Midwife proved once again that real acceptance is still some way off.
I was watching it jealous. How ridiculous is that? Jealous of a pretend couple getting to keep their pretend baby when we couldn't keep our real one.
- After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
- ► 2016 (34)
- ► 2015 (41)
- ► 2014 (29)
- ► 2013 (92)
- ▼ 2012 (90)
- ► 2011 (175)
Written by C.E Morgan. Powered by Blogger.