The bereavement suite is on the top floor of the hospital, opposite the midwife-led unit where I had my daughter three years earlier. It was much quieter and calmer than the busy recovery ward. We were shown into our room which had been made to look as much as possible like a hotel room rather than a hospital room. We also had a mini-lounge area and a fridge. It was explained that Henry could stay in here with us in his cot, or if we preferred the staff could move him into another room next door for a while. We were welcome to stay for as long as we wanted until we felt ready to leave. We were also introduced to Laura, the bereavement midwife on duty that day.
Laura offered us the choice of making hand and footprints and casts of Henry, or she could do this for us. Unsettled by thinking I had damaged him in the recovery room and in desperate need of some rest, we agreed that she would make the prints for us and wash Henry. After she left the room I lay down on the bed and surprised myself by sleeping for several hours. On waking, I found my husband asleep on the sofa area and Henry in his cot, washed and with a woolen hat and blanket, with some hand and footprints on the side. When Laura came back she noted we had been so deeply asleep she hadn’t wanted to wake us.
We stayed in the bereavement suite with Henry until the following afternoon. I swapped his woollen hat for one my sister had knitted for our daughter, and took the one he had in the hospital for his memory box. We had also brought an outfit for him but I realised it would be too big and Laura had put him in a lovely gown, so we decided to leave him in that. We went through all the information about what happened next - registering his birth, arranging a funeral, deciding if we wanted a post mortem. We also got a surprisingly good night’s sleep and ate a lot of toast.
Physically I was feeling surprisingly well, with just the usual post-birth bleeding. I’d had a couple of stitches but they didn’t hurt at all. I was clearly in a fog however which was clear when at some point in the morning a lady came in to take our lunch order. I’m not sure why she didn’t just hand me the menu for me to select from (an odd covid rule?) but instead she sat down and reeled off each of the options for starter, main and pudding (plus sides). There were only about 4 - 5 choices of each but I was just not taking it in and had to ask her to repeat herself several times. I didn’t particularly care what we ate, I just literally could not remember what she had just said.
At some point in the afternoon we realised we had covered all the practicalities and while we knew we could spend another night there with Henry, it would be no easier to leave him the next day. I was also conscious that our daughter had spent three days away from both of us for the first time ever, and I was also desperate to cuddle her as well.
We said our goodbyes to Henry and I hardened myself ready to walk out the hospital with our memory box and photos rather than our baby.