The Truth About Losing a Baby

My Experience of Losing My Son At 22 Weeks

Photo by Julia reber

I was 22 weeks when I lost my perfect little boy Riley Fionn Hinsey. He was 15.19 ounces and 11.16 inches. I had never seen something so perfect in my entire life. He had just started to grow hair on his head; he definitely would have had my full head of hair but absolutely his daddy’s red hair with darker tones. I couldn’t have asked for anything anymore perfect.

I was leaking a dark red/brown fluid for about a day and then started to gush blood. I called my son's father but unfortunately did not get an answer so I drove myself to the hospital. I was then told I was low on amniotic fluid and an hour later I gave birth to my son. No one was there to hold my hand. No one was there while I pushed. No one came even after. I was 110 percent alone.

I held my little boy for 47 minutes until he took his last breath. When he came into this world he was just the same as any other full term baby. He wiggled his perfect feet and squirmed around. He gasped for air and was fighting so hard to survive and the only thing I couldn’t understand was why the doctors weren’t doing more to help him? Yes they have guidelines and protocols to follow, but my little baby was fighting for his life and he wanted to live. All he needed was a little help. I kept repeating that over and over again in my head. I felt so helpless because I knew that the only thing that mattered was him and I was going to have to say goodbye.

I wasn’t holding my baby to bond before he went to nicu or holding him to feed him. He wasn’t going to be coming home with me no matter how hard I prayed and cried and begged someone or something to help him. I remember the way he opened his mouth and moved his legs and arms around. When he was kicking and rolling and tumbling in my belly, I never would have imagined that was what he looked like but it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever been able to witness in my life.

I kept kissing his nose and cheeks. He had his daddy’s nose, chin, hair, and monstrous feet. But he had my little fingers and lips.

After he took his last breath, I felt nothing but pain and hollowness in my chest and my stomach and my whole body. It was like I had just gone somewhere out of my body and was avoiding the loss of Riley all together. I refused to have his feet and hand prints done or take home a keepsake box. I wanted to avoid the entire situation at all costs and pretend it never happened.

Once I left the hospital I felt numb. Then again everything hit me at once. I was so resentful of everyone. My friends were still pregnant and they still had their babies and I was so angry. I would rub my belly completely forgetting that Riley wasn’t there to comfort anymore. I’d see babies and children in public and get sad because I’d instinctively start thinking about Riley’s future and what he would have been doing when he was that age and how many days old he would have been.

My best friend gave birth to my god daughter a little after I had lost Riley and I had no interest in meeting her. I don’t want to be around babies or children cause they all remind me of my little boy. My son may have only lived for a little under an hour but I am still a mommy to that boy and his daddy is still his daddy.

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