How active and supportive?

Very! Within moments of my wife posting her first email to the group there was an outpouring of support from members all over the world letting her know that we were not alone. It has been over three years since that first email and I can tell you the momentum and strength of the group hasn’t slowed a bit.

Shortly after the passing of her first child, due to severe preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome, Sarah Grimes Founded SPALS in December 1995. Sarah is still very much a part of SPALS and is one of two list administrators.

Sarah shares her experience “The Life and Death of Haven, our Beloved Daughter.”

Conclusion

SPALS is a wonderful support group that has been a tremendous resource. Its members have helped us through some of the darkest times. There are many support groups out there, but SPALS offers an atmosphere of intimacy and privacy that is very comforting and reassuring.

Useful Links:

• SPALS Home – Subsequent Pregnancy After a Loss Support
• SPALS Faq – Frequently asked questions
• Join SPALS – Join SPALS now
• Sarah Grimes – For general enquiries and history of SPALS

Do you have a story to share about SPALS? What would you tell our readers looking to join a support group? What support groups have you found most helpful?

Related posts:

1. Grief Support After the Death of a Child: The Compassionate Friends
2. Peer-to-Peer Support for Mothers of Stillborn Babies
3. Faith’s Lodge: A Place Where Hope Grows

Although the subject of the article centers on the mishandling of miscarriages, it brings back nightmarish memories of my own labor and delivery story – the silent birth of my first child, Nicolas, one week after his due date. After waiting patiently for 41 weeks, convinced we were out of the “danger zone,” i.e., the first trimester (oh, how naïve I was then), we went to the hospital on February 28, 2006, excited that labor had finally started, only to be told our son had “no heartbeat.” Lying next to me in the same room were two other laboring women, hooked up to Dopplers, the strong swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of their babies’ heartbeats echoing along with my sobs. I was finally taken to a private room and given Pitocin as my labor slowed. I was told my contractions stopped because usually babies help progress labor, but in my case… I wanted to tell them Nicolas wasn’t being difficult – he was dead.

I labored for about 23 hours, thankfully much of that time lost in a fog of pain and shock. But every now and then, from another room down the hall, the sweet, mocking sound of a newborn cry and the cheers of nurses would creep into my consciousness. Every now and then I would hear that strong swoosh next door and realize my nurses didn’t even bother to put a heartbeat monitor on me. The following day, in my recovery room, a nursing assistant came in with an sunny smile on his face and told me it was time to take my prenatal vitamin. I had just given my son’s body back to the nurse for the final time and was in no mood for false cheer. As he left the room with that damn pill still in the little Dixie cup, I glimpsed just outside my door a new mom and dad with their breathing baby bundled in an infant carrier, ready to go home. I could take no more and demanded to be released. I was given a prescription for Motrin for the physical pain and two anxiety pills for the emotional trauma that lie ahead (they were concerned I would take all the pills at once, so I only got two). The pharmacist congratulated me on the birth of my baby as she handed me my prescriptions, and all I could choke out was, “thank you.” My husband pulled the car around, and I climbed in, Nicolas’ empty car seat in the back. We went home and shut the door to Nicolas’ waiting nursery.

I wonder now if my experience would have been better if I were quietly taken to a room far enough away from the “normal” labor and delivery floor so I wouldn’t have heard those Doppler heartbeats and newborn cries, so I wouldn’t have seen living babies next to my dead son. I wonder if it’s asking too much to be treated respectfully but separately from other laboring women, to be handled a bit more sensitively and to be spared those painful reminders of what I would never have with Nicolas.

Related posts:

1. Hospital delivery safer for babies than home birth