Mum and dad open up about the stillbirth agony they BOTH felt after losing their baby at seven months
Ten babies are stillborn each day in the UK, but support for both parents isn't always available. After losing their baby, Portia Potter was offered one-to-one counselling by her GP, but her husband, Mike, wasn't
‘NONE of my friends asked how i was feeling’
Mike Potter, 31, is a project engineer from Blandford Forum, Dorset. He says:
“Blowing raspberries on my wife Portia’s tummy when she was 25 weeks pregnant, I suddenly felt a kick.
It was a moment I’ll never forget.
We’d planned to start trying for a baby a year after our wedding in September 2011, but we couldn’t wait and by February 2012, Portia was pregnant.
We’d chosen not to find out the sex, but we sensed we were expecting a boy and nicknamed him Bubba.
We didn’t get too excited, though, as Portia’s cousin had recently had to terminate her baby at 20 weeks due to spina bifida, so we knew there could still be dangers.
When Portia was seven months pregnant, she noticed Bubba wasn’t moving as often.
She called the registrar, who told her this was normal as the baby grew.
At a routine check-up two weeks later, we were relieved when the midwife picked up a heartbeat.
However, Portia’s worries returned the next day after she lay in the bath for an hour with no movement from the baby.
We drove to Dorchester County Hospital, and that’s when the bottom fell out of our world.
Two midwives tried to find Bubba’s heartbeat, then the registrar went silent and they all left the room.
Seconds later, one of the midwives returned and quietly told us that our baby had died. I couldn’t speak.
It turned out that the heartbeat the other midwife had found was actually Portia’s, and that our baby had died, probably a day earlier, from a concealed placental abruption – meaning the placenta comes away from the uterus wall and starves the baby of oxygen.
I held Portia as she lay on the bed crying ‘No!’ in disbelief.
My heart was breaking, too, but I had to ignore my feelings and be strong for her.
The midwife then explained that Portia had to give birth to our baby.
They gave her pills to induce labour and told us to go home and wait, as it could take two days.
We spent those days in darkness. We didn’t open the curtains or speak to anybody apart from our parents.
Two days later, we returned to hospital and our son was born on October 5, 2012, at 12.45pm.
I hated seeing Portia going through the pain of labour knowing that we weren’t going to get the healthy, living baby we’d waited for.
My heart was breaking inside but, again, I felt like I had to be strong for her.
The baby weighed 3lb 3oz and had dark hair.
He was perfect, and cradling him in my arms felt magical. Naturally, we named him Bubba.
I took my two weeks paternity leave so I could be there for Portia, but I should have given myself more time to grieve.
At work, I switched off my emotions, but inside I was devastated.
I found myself getting angry that I was doing mundane things instead of changing nappies.
I had no one to talk to, and didn’t want to burden Portia.
None of my friends ever asked how I was feeling.
One night I was watching rugby with a mate when he said Portia was lucky to have me looking after her.
That’s when I realised why my friends hadn’t reached out – they thought I was strong enough to cope.
We joined a midwife-run bereavement group called Forget Me Not, and it was good to talk to people who’d been through the same ordeal.
Portia was offered one-to-one therapy by her doctor, but I wasn’t.
I strongly feel that must change, and dads should be given support, too.
Losing a baby can put a strain on a relationship, but thankfully Portia and I became even closer.
Trying for another baby was our way of coping, and just 10 weeks after losing Bubba, Portia was pregnant again.
We were on tenterhooks during the pregnancy, but on August 29, 2013, our daughter Parker was born.
We were overjoyed when her sister Ripley joined us on July 14 last year.
We’re very happy, but Bubba will always be part of the family.”
‘Losing him was the worst experience of my life’
Portia Potter, 30, is a stay-at-home mum. She says:
“I’ll never forget the image of Bubba’s lifeless body on the ultrasound screen.
There was no heartbeat, just silence.
Having worked for years as a baby swimming teacher, I couldn’t wait to start a family.
And I loved every second of pregnancy – even morning sickness.
Everything seemed perfect. But then suddenly it wasn’t.
After I received the news that our baby had died, I was wailing with despair as Mike held me, keeping his emotions in check.
Two days after I’d been given the tablets to start labour, nothing had happened, so I ended up back in hospital on a drip containing drugs to speed things up.
I was also offered lots of pain-relief drugs, but I wanted to feel the pain – perhaps I felt like I needed punishing for something.
As soon as I gave birth, every maternal instinct switched on.
I wanted to see our baby and hold him. He was beautiful.
After they cut Bubba’s cord, I held him and Mike looked so proud. It was pure love.
Mike and my mum Amanda, now 50, dressed him in a Peter Rabbit Babygro and we spent two hours together, but eventually it was time to say goodbye.
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We asked the vicar to bless him in hospital, but I just couldn’t have a funeral.
Seeing a tiny coffin didn’t seem right, so we had him cremated and his ashes put in a teddy bear.
The weeks that followed were incredibly tough.
Two weeks after we’d lost Bubba, I was in the shower and sank to the floor in tears after seeing my deflated bag of a body.
Mike rushed in and we sat crying together.
Sadly, Mike didn’t receive a lot of support from his friends.
Even his brothers Andy, 29, and Simon, 26, found it hard to talk to him as they were so upset, too.
Four months after Bubba died, I set up Pots of Gold, a private Facebook group for mums who have lost babies but become pregnant again.
We have about 30 members and meet annually, and Mike can talk properly to other men who understand what he’s been through.
We donated Bubba’s organs to research because we wanted some good to come out of our nightmare.
But it’s been Parker, three, and Ripley, 15 months, who have helped us through our grief.
Losing Bubba was the worst experience of our lives, but my relationship with Mike has become stronger and I love him more than ever.”
If you liked this story, you might like to read how a single dad is lovingly raising his son with foetal alcohol syndrome, despite finding out he isn't his.
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