There is now a place to grieve

One October many years ago I gave birth to a stillborn baby boy. It was a profound, wild grief which too quickly had to be restrained, contained, eventually smothered. I had left the hospital emptyhanded, in a daze, and simply gone back to my empty flat.

Although I was single and my relationship with the father was bad, there were promises of another baby. Being the only one to cry, I could allow myself only as much mourning as I could bear. I had to be positive. Indeed, I quickly had a second child, a girl. But despite my delight I was not well. Stomach cramps and pains often incapacitated me, but laparoscopic and ultrasound examinations showed nothing abnormal.

I went to see a therapist who encouraged me to describe and visualise my pains. They felt like contractions and working on that theme I finally screamed out, “A baby. It's a baby crying, he is in pain because he can't breathe.” When I finally calmed down I could say for the first time, “and his name is Thomas.”

From then on it all went very quickly. I rang the hospital where he was born, wanting to …