reprinted with permission from the Leicester Mercury:

September 30, 2003
They're the babies no one talks about - they're the ones that didn't live. A mother never forgets, hears Sarah Staples

They couldn't find the baby's heartbeat. All
I could hear was the dull echo of my own ... Our little girl had gone

When people ask Jackie Frith how many children she has, she sometimes pauses. "Five," she'll tell them quietly. The 39-year-old is a proud mum to Leanne, 15, Lauren, 13, Amy seven, Grace and one-year-old Charis. What Jackie doesn't explain is that blonde-haired Grace was stillborn two years ago and never took her first breath.

She furiously blinks back tears sparkling in her eyes. "I don't like crying in front of people," she admits, "but it's still hard."

Grace is Jackie's ghost child. She gave her life, nourished her, loved her. But Grace died at 38 weeks and four days inside her mother's womb.

For some, that would mean that this Whitwick housewife should wipe her baby from her memory, forget the life she nurtured.

That's not good enough for Jackie, her husband, 35-year-old Andy or their friends and family who were devastated by Grace's death.

"It's hard for some people to acknowledge Grace existed. It's as if her life should be swept under the carpet and forgotten.

"If she had lived for a few days or months, I'm sure everybody would think of her as a baby. Because she didn't, they don't."

She keeps her voice level and controlled but the raw pain shows in the tightness of her throat as she talks.

"I realised I was pregnant late in December 2000.

"I didn't tell Andy straight away. But on New Year's Day, I couldn't keep it to myself any more. I blurted it out.

"Andy was overjoyed. He did a crazy dance round the living room and swept me up in his arms."

Jackie had started dating Andy, a miner, in July, 1997. Her marriage had broken down and she was bringing up her children.

"Andy was brilliant with my kids but I knew he'd like a child of his own. We were so excited."

When she was six weeks pregnant, Jackie had a slight bleed. "I'd never had that with any of my previous children."

But at 12 weeks pregnant, she and Andy heaved a huge sigh of relief and started telling their excited friends and family.

"It was Andy's parents first grandchild and they couldn't wait. Everyone was overjoyed that we were having a baby."

An amniocentesis at 18 weeks came back clear and the pregnancy progressed normally.

"I felt fine. I wasn't growing as much as I had in past pregnancies, but I wasn't worried.

"We started converting the garage into a bedroom for the two older girls and bought a Moses basket for our new arrival.

"We knew she was a girl and started talking about names."

It was in the early hours of the morning, on August 30, 2001, that tragedy struck and Jackie's world turned upside down.

"Andy was working nights and I'd gone to bed just after he left, at about 10pm. Six hours later, I woke up needing the toilet.

"I didn't turn the lights on because the children were sleeping and I didn't want to wake them. So I felt my way across the landing to the bathroom.

"Then I went back to the bedroom and sat on my bed. Something was wrong - I felt as if my waters had gone.

"I went to the bathroom and turned the light on. There was blood everywhere. I wanted to scream, but I didn't want to disturb the children. I felt sick inside and I knew then my baby was dead."

Jackie phoned her sister to take her to hospital and Andy's parents rushed over to look after the sleeping children.

It took little over 20 minutes to drive to the Leicester Royal Infirmary but every second that passed made her body ache more. When we got there, they took me up straight away to do a scan to see if they could find the baby's heartbeat.

"Through the silence, all I could hear was the dull echo of my own. Our little girl had gone."

Andy arrived at Jackie's side. She told him through her tears that their baby was dead. It was his time to cry.

Jackie still had to give birth. The labour lasted for 13 hours.

"It was strange but I desperately wanted to see Grace,'' says Jackie. "When they told me she was dead, I pleaded with them to give me a caesarean.

"I thought that way, I'd be able to hold her quicker.

"She had been growing inside me for all that time and I needed the feeling that I'd got to know her. She was my baby, alive or dead. And when I finally held her in my arms, I couldn't believe how perfect she looked, as if she was sleeping."

The baby, who Jackie and Andy named Grace, weighed 5lb 12oz and the consultant diagnosed vasa previa.

It's a condition where the baby's blood vessels lie across the entrance into the birth canal and rupture when the cervix dilates in readiness for birth.

She was born the day before her father's birthday. There was no celebration that year for her devastated parents.

"The next few days were horrendous. We had to arrange Grace's funeral. None of us could think straight.

"I felt as if someone had just ripped my heart out and inside my chest was an empty hollow. I couldn't eat or sleep.

"Nothing, nothing, seemed worthwhile. Only the thought of Andy and my kids that kept me going.''

But within days of Grace's death, Jackie had made a promise to herself and to Andy: They would have another child.

"I've never like being beaten,'' she explains. "I don't like throwing in the towel - it's just not me.

"Andy's mum was devastated at Grace's death and I found myself telling her 'We WILL have another baby, I promise.''

Jackie was pregnant again within 12 weeks but her joy was tapered with pain.

"Every twinge, every kick I thought 'Oh God, please not again.' I made them induce me because I was so worried things would go wrong'.''

Baby Charis - Greek for Grace - was born at 38 weeks. "When I looked at her in my arms, I felt so relieved. Charis was beautiful. I sobbed with relief that she was alive and healthy. She was the spitting image of her sister, just plumper and pinker. They were two peas in pod.''

Jackie had heard of Sands - Stillbirth and Neonatal Society - through the LRI after Grace's death.

It had made her determined that one day she would help other women whose babies had died. She was put into contact with 30-year-old Cathy Cliffe, from Glenfield, and Louise Bolton, from Cosby.

Cathy and her husband, Jason, lost their daughter, Ella, when she was 29 weeks pregnant. Thirty-five-year-old Louise's son, Louis, had also died.

Both, like Jackie, had gone on to have a child, Ruby, two on October 19, and Lydia, also two. But they never forgot the ones they lost. "We're here to help anyone who wants to talk about their child. Whether it was a miscarriage or a stillbirth.

"There's no time limit. You can grieve for a baby 40, 50 or 60 years after you've lost them.

"And it's not just women. Fathers can be just as upset, as can friends or family who just need someone to talk to.''

For the love of Grace, Ella and Louis, their mothers will make sure that some of the taboos surrounding stillbirth and miscarriage are broken and ghost children become a thing of the past.

"Losing a baby makes you realise how fragile life is,'' says Jackie simply. "Every time I hit a problem now and get through it, I think to myself 'This one's for Grace!'''