Oliver's Story

Oliver, this webpage is dedicated to you in memory of the joy you have brought into our lives, and hoping it will someday reach others in grief. If it be, then any future brothers or sisters of yours will always know that you are their older brother and that you are watching over them. We will all rejoice one day, together again in heaven

I have often thought back and wondered when the right time would be to start writing Olivers story and how I would do it. It has been 6 months and still, as some things have changed, the reality of our son not being here in our arms is so apparent. His room with his bassinet, his clothes still packed in his hospital bag that we hurriedly prepared when I thought that I might be in labour, his basket of toys waiting to be played with and the smell, the fresh smell of baby powder and baby products fill his room. No baby crying or laughing as he plays with his mobile, just silence. I don't want to put those things out of sight although for the first week, I couldn't go into his room. Now all those things give me an unusual sense of peace and a feeling of closeness to Oliver.

August 2001, after much thought and discussion, we decided that we wanted to expand the 2 of us and become 3. There were uncertainties as to whether that would be possible as I had a history of endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome. So after still no joy, we visited a gyne/obstetrician in November and within 2 weeks following a laparoscopy, it was confirmed that I was not ovulating, however my tubes were in excellent condition and then my first course of clomiphene commenced.

June 2002 and I was so tired of all the blood tests and charting each month, we started to consider adoption and placed our name down for an adoption information evening. 1 week after making that call to enrol for the course, I was "late". An ovarian cyst was suspected but no cyst was found. Pregnancy tests came up negative. A visit again to the doctor 2 days later for a suspected bladder infection and another pregnancy test then confirmed that we were expecting. I was so excited and I was scared to believe that it was true. Bernd wasn't there with me in the doctors room so when I walked out into the waiting room, I couldn't wait to surprise him with the news. It took a long time to sink in for both of us.

Following a few weeks of midwife treatment, I was then transferred under the care of the clinic at our local hospital so they could monitor my progress and keep an "eye" on things. My doctor, knowing how much we had wanted a child, decided that it was best to get the most reliable care possible. I was not given my 12 week fetal scan but each fortnight as part of my check-up, ultrasounds showed everything was going perfect and right on target. We had no reason to suspect otherwise although throughout my first 12 weeks I was a bit nervous while we waited to see if our baby would see through the first trimester.

We had decided that we wanted to secretly find out if our first child was to be a boy or a girl but as Oliver was always in the breach position, it was impossible to tell. Our obstetrician had booked us in with a radiology clinic at 22 weeks for our "big" scan but on a visit to our local doctor, she suggested another option which was to visit a obstetrician privately who had a 3 D scanner as it would be very exciting for us to see clearer pictures of our baby.

I can't remember the exact date as that is a blur due to the events that followed but I remember the excitement as Bernd and I waited for the specialist to scan. Without going over too much of the details of what happened next, I lay on the bed for an hour while the specialist scanned my stomach. He was rude and cold and whenever we asked him a question about "is that a leg" is that an arm" he said with no emotion or kindness in his voice "I'm trying to make that out" In the end he did not respond at all to our questions and just ignored us completely as if we weren't there. My heart had sunk to the pit of my stomach as I realised that there was possibly something wrong and I felt angry that the doctor could be so rude and cold towards us. We later also found out that although we had asked him to tape the scan, he turned it off after the first few minutes without advising us.He took us into his meeting room and straight after we all sat down he said "Well, there is something very wrong with your baby." He advised us that he thought Oliver had an irregularity in his spine.

I felt my heart literally pounding in my head and I thought I was going to keel off my chair. My hands were shaking and I felt like my world had fallen apart. I was scared to look at Bernd as I would fall apart. I was feeling so heartbroken and so angry. Angry at how I had been treated while I was scanned and for a long moment so angry and upset with God that he would allow something like this to happen to our baby especially when we had wanted him so badly. I was pretty sure then that I knew what was coming from this doctor. I knew that he had a reputation for aborting..especially in the later stages of pregnancy and without mentioning too much as to sound racist, I felt that also there may be a possibility that this doctor may not place so much value on life also because of where he had come from originally. I asked him, so what can we do from here, what are our options. The only option that he gave us was "Well, we can terminate your pregnancy!" I was prepared for the probabilty of him saying that but not prepared for the anger I felt when he said it. If I had a camera that had filmed me when I responded to his question it would have clearly shown that I wanted to "punch his lights out" I very loudly told him that we did not believe in abortion and what other options could he give us. He then proceeded to advise us that he would refer us to Wellington Hospital where they would take over from there and that I would most definately have to have a C section to deliver our baby and "that's if the baby lives that long." Somewhere in between telling us all this he also proceeded in answering his mobile phone.

It's not the same reading this story as it was being in there. I can not write the words that would describe how cold and oblivious he was to our pain. We know that he had to give us the facts but he could have given us the news so differently...even more so because of the fact that he knew our baby was a miracle clomiphene baby that we had prayed for, for so long.

Bernd and I had often spoken of how we felt about abortion and what we would do if we were ever faced with a scenario in which we were confronted with the reality of it. I don't mean to hurt those who may be reading that have had abortions by saying the following, it is purely how I feel and not mean't as a judgement upon you. With my training and background in working with people with disabilities, I had long been a firm believer that all people have a right to life and it is more often than not, peoples attitudes that made it so much harder for people that didn't fit into the "perfect" picture. Although in hindsight, if we were all honest with ourselves, all of us are so unique and so individual that there is no "perfect" example to model ourselves by. It's our individualness that challenges us and makes the world go around. I have seen videos of abortions where it was more than obvious that the baby was aware of what was happening and obviously felt pain. Someone once said in one of my support groups that they were asked one day if their son or daughter were paralysed from a motor vehicle accident at 16 years old and were in a wheelchair for life, would they then not have a right to live and their life therefore be terminated because of that. For me there is no difference between taking the life of my baby and then taking the life of someone who has already been born. My baby's heart was beating strongly and reassuringly. I could feel him move and kick. I could never take that life away from him regardless of his 'situation' and now that we have had this experience, I'm even more firm now in the belief that abortion isn't the solution. There are also so many people wanting to adopt out there and it is so hard when you hear of abortion being so readily available that girls/women are choosing that as an option rather than giving someone the chance at parenthood.

So, almost 1 week later I was to visit our new specialist and his team at Wellington Hospital. We can not fault the service and attention that our newly appointed specialist administered to us. It was like seeing light from dark in comparison to our last experience. It was decided that at the beginning of December 2002 that I would have an amniocentisis to see if that shed any light on what was happening with Oliver. Firstly, following a number of detailed scans it was suspected that he may have an omphaloceole which was not life threatening and could be "fixed" with a couple of operations following his birth. It was also suspected a little later down the track that rather than an omphaloceole that he may have had a rare form of spina bifida. Or then maybe, the scan just wasn't showing a clear image due to Oliver being in a breach position. No one was certain and we knew it would be a guessing game until the minute he was born. Our Specialist did everything he could to investigate and help prepare for any possibilities once he was born although following extensive scanning, the amniocentisis which showed no chromosomal abnormalities and an MRI scan which, the prognosis that he would live was probable. The MRI scan showed a small sack at the base of Olly's spine which indicated some complications but not life threatening we thought. So, through all this, we were preparing our babies room, buying clothes for him and doing all the other things that a Mummy and Daddy will do when they are expecting their first baby.

At about 30 weeks I was admitted to hospital for about 5 days for testing of pregnancy related high blood pressure and it was found that I did not have pre eclampsia as such but I did need to be monitored in case it developed. I hoped I wouldn't be in again until our baby was due to be born. I was wrong!

33 weeks, Sunday morning and the morning of my baby shower and I remember saying to my husband, well, knowing my luck something will happen today on the morning of my baby shower. I wish now that I had never made that comment although I know that it was just pure coincidence. I had a show that morning and although the midwives at the hospital said that it can happen well in advance of the birth, I was concerned and trying to prepare myself as much as I could for what could come sooner than expected.

At 33.5 weeks. Friday 7th February and only 1 week after I had left for maternity leave, I found myself with increasing cramping, becoming more persistent and painful overtime. At about 6.00 we decided to call the hospital on call midwife and she suggested that we need to come in to make sure that it was just false labour pains. I was admitted to the delivery ward and given steroid injections and pills over a number of hours to try to stop the cramping. On examination it was found that things were possibly starting to shift and that I may be in the first stages of labour. It was confirmed that I would then be admitted to my own room in the maternity ward to ensure that I was closely monitored. I found that some of the nurses were just thinking that I was experiencing braxton hicks contractions and others were keeping a careful eye on me. Around the clock the nurses and midwives would come and go and the fetal movement and heart monitor were showing regular contractions at about between 15-25 minutes apart. Oliver was making regular movements, nothing out of the ordinary and his heart was beating nice and loud which was a comforting sign.

I was not administered many painkillers, only panadol and another that was too try to slow down the contractions. They were gradually becoming more intense and in the end I had to resort to rocking backwards and forwards or sideways to mentally take myself away from the pain. Sunday morning came and it was decided that a doctor would come and examine me as I had had enough and I could tell that soon, the pain would be so bad I wouldn't know how to cope. I had learned to cope with quite a bit over the years through having polycystic ovaries and endometriosis so my pain threshold was quite strong although naturally, my labour pains were a lot more intense than any period pain I had ever had.

The doctor found I was 6cm dilated and all of a sudden, within 5 mins of my examination I had seen about 3 doctors and a number of nurses. My things were being packed and I was told that I was to be wheeled down for an emergency caesarean section. I didn't have enough time to blink, let alone take in what was to happen. I was so afraid of the unknown and I was afraid because I had never experienced anything like this before. I called Bernd and he was on his way to the hospital in a flash and caught me just as they were wheeling me down to theatre in my wheelchair. In a strange way I felt comforted to see friendly, smiling faces around me. About 15 people in the theatre as no one knew what to expect. We had anaesthetists, nurses of many types, paediatrics and the rest. I think, the biggest thing I was afraid of was the needle in the back (spinal which goes deeper than an epidural) but that was painless. So, after much tugging and pulling, many jokes and a full commentary as to what was going on and with/from my anaesthetist , out came our baby.

I had watched many episodes over my pregnancy on childbirth including a regular programme called "maternity ward" on discovery channel. Nothing could have really prepared us for what happened next although it did help to have watched a bit of this programme as many of the babies were born prem. Our baby wasn't crying..that was our first concern and I wasn't given a chance to hold him, I suspected it was just because he needed a little help to breathe and that they needed to "check him out". I had had steroids to speed up the growth of his lungs as at less than 34 weeks, baby's lungs aren't fully developed. As time went on I could see that even though people were trying to smile, they were worried. You could see it on their faces and also my anaesthetist could tell I was needing a bit of feedback. Eventually one of the specialists examing Oliver came over and told us that he had a short umbilical cord and that had caused certain complications which meant the outlook wasn't good. He tried to tell us that our baby would not be able to be "saved" through operations etc and that he could not breathe on his own. They called in the head of paediatrics and his diagnosis was the same. We were asked what we wanted to do. If we wanted to keep him on the oxygen or if we wanted them to take out the tube and spend the time with us. For us, following his diagnoses which we had gone through thoroughly with the experts, we decided that we did not want to prolong the inevitable. It wasn't fair on Oliver and it was fair on us either.

The next 1 hour and 33 minutes was the hardest of our lives. No words can describe our pain of having to watch our little one die in our arms or what we were having to face. Now when thinking back to that time and reliving it, there were some really amazing things that happened. Bernd went over to see Oliver in his crib while the doctors were assessing his situation and he placed a finger into Olivers hand. Olly then squeezed his finger hard, opened his eyes and looked straight into Bernds eyes. He was so peaceful and looking back at his photos and at the video that we took when he was still with us, there was a definate, peaceful smile on his face. It felt like he knew he wanted to wait around to meet us and say hello and then when the time was right he went to be with Jesus.

In between the shock and the reality, we were surrounded by a with a peace that we can only put down to God. I believe that I sensed Angels around us. People in the theatre were coming up to us, one by one and admiring our little boy and giving their condolenses. They were crying. Some tried to contain their tears and then when they spoke with us they turned away for fear of loosing their composure. You could hear it in their voices and see it on their faces. They were sharing the pain of our experience and our loss with us. I kept feeling like I was drifting in and out of reality and couldn't keep my eyes open as I was trying to cope with the shock and reality of what was going on and the fact that we were watching our son die in our arms. Thinking back over the last 10 months or so, whether before or after having Olly, that was surely the memory that stirs me up most inside and every time I remember I get a lump in my throat and the tears start to well. While I was being sewn up, our anaesthetist kept blowing on my face to check to see if I had remained conscious

The doctors wheeled me into a separate bay within the delivery suite where we were able to be together as a family and I had an overpowering sense of wanting to see my own Mum. Then she and my stepfather walked in. Such a little room felt so crowded with love and with people although there was only 5 of us there. To this day I believe that. We spent the next hour/half and hour…however long it was as I had no concept of time, holding Oliver, watching him so peaceful but still alive and being able to say our goodbyes until we will see him again in heaven. The doctor who was in the room with us kept checking his heart rate every few minutes and there was even a time when he moved his head from side to side, I thought to indicate that Oliver had gone. Then a little while later I realised that he was telling me he hadn't yet gone. Then 1.08 pm 9 February 2003, Olivers heart stopped beating but his face was the most peaceful I had ever seen. He had a smile which we can still see on our video camera and in our photos.

Not long after that I was wheeled back up to the maternity ward that I was in prior to being sent down to delivery except this time I had a seperate room on the other side of the ward. The nurses had set us up in a very large room equipped with two beds, our own ensuite and lazy boy etc, especially set up for people in our situation. Bernd was given the option to stay with Oliver and I as long as he wanted to including nights until I was ready to be released from the hospital. Oliver lay in his own bassinet between our beds throughout that evening. I kept waking up throughout the night and looking over at him and Bernd and spent a lot of time asking myself what the next hour, next day, next week, next month and next years would be like now without Oliver with us. I just wanted some assurance that we would survive this and everything else that we would have to face that came through losing our baby.

I allocated many nurses throughout my stay at the hospital but one stood out and still to this day, I can see that God put her there for me. She came in to see me in the middle of the night after having Olly and sat with me for a long time. She told me that she was my "scrub nurse in theatre" and she had now been placed there as one of my care midwives. She saw everything. From the beggining of my surgery to the end and here she was caring for me. She had been through it with us. I am still so grateful for God placing her there with me and she will always have a special place in my heart because of that. I still beleive it was God showing us that he was in control and would not leave us alone. "Scrub nurse" as I called her back then in lack of remembering her real name (Lee), was called in last minute to fill in in surgery. She wasn't to do surgery again but nonetheless she was asked to come in on the day of my surgery. She then was placed for the first time, in the maternity ward, on nightshift, which coinsided with the birth of Oliver but obviously not planned that way (other than through divine intervention), then she was for the first time rostered as a day nurse on my ward, the day I left and so I got to say goodbye to her. When I felt so alone, she stayed with me and comforted me. Very personal accounts of what it was like for her to be in the theatre with me, were also shared. I hope one day she reads this and will know how much we appreciated her and the respect and care that she showed towards us.

Oliver was taken to be embalmed the next day, Tuesday, by my cousin who is and embalmer and funeral director and then was bought back to me the next day as I spent most of my night on Tuesday quite distraught at the fact that he was not there with me. I was out of hospital on the Thursday and Oliver was buried the following Wednesday to allow preparation, physical healing and for my Dad to arrive from overseas

We have learned through experience that taking each day as it comes is the only way to get through. Not one day is the same from the other and feelings can not be "predicted" a day ahead. You can be up one day and down the next and although sometimes we wished it could be controlled, it is incontrollable. You just have to face what you feel, ride through it and come through another day. It is not something we will "getover". Time merely gives you a chance to learn how to cope with all the feelings/pain/memories and does help to heal and take the edge off a bit. It will never erase the reality of the fact that in body we have lost our son and that he is not with us the way other babies are. Some people try with the best intentions to help the healing by saying things such as "he's in a better place" but until someone experiences what it's like to loose a baby or a child to death, it's impossible to imagine what it's like to be on this side of the fence. Everyone's experience is individual and different. No two are alike.

Our memories are in many ways, what get us through although our experience has moved us to a much deeper faith in God and a much more real picture of what heaven is like. In a sense, I personally look forward to heaven so much more in a personal way as I will get to see my Son again. I'm sure Bernd would agree. People ask "Why does God allow such things to happen". All I can say is that I know God hasn't deserted us. There have been miracles all around us, changed lives, many friends made, changes in medical professionals viewpoints on life, opportunities to share with others who are have lost children. And...most of all we have had a miracle child who fought to live and stayed alive to share 1.5 hours with us when in medical terms, babies with short umbilical cords miscarry naturally before or during the first part of the 2nd trimester. Oliver smiled and was surrounded in peace. He was very content and happy. This experience has changed our lives in so many ways and when I do ask myself that question of "Why?" all these things come flooding back into my mind and I know it's all under control. God does have a handle on our situation and he is stepping us through coping with our grief. Ultimately, it's not a case of having to understand for us, it is more about acknowledging that he has a big plan that sometimes we are not to understand or that the plan won't go the way that we would wish but as he is the almightly he has absolute reasoning way above what our human hearts and minds could ever fathom.

I hope our story in someway has or could help others who have or will go through similar experiences one day and that it will be used for Gods purpose as it has already. If you are suffering the loss of a child or a loved one, you are not alone. I pray that God will allow his peace and healing in your pain.

Angela (and Bernd) Wolff

The song playing is I Believe by Diamond Rio.

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