LSB December 2021 HR

WELLBEING & RESILIENCE
It's OK to grieve, and to
reach out for support
AMY NIKOLOVSKI, MANAGING PARTNER DBH LAWYERS AND MEMBER OF THE WELLBEING AND RESILIENCE COMMITTEE
Trigger warning- this article discusses miscarriage and
pregnancy loss
As a member of the Wellbeing and
Resilience Committee I was asked
to write an article for this edition of the
Bulletin. For anyone who knows me, I am
the last person who should give any advice
or guidance on wellbeing or work life
balance, as mine is all out of whack. What
I thought I could write about however was
resilience.
I am writing this article in October, which
is not only Mental Health Month but also
includes Pregnancy and Infant Loss awareness
day which is on 15 October.
Pregnancy and infant loss seems to
be the last taboo topic in the profession
and in society in general. Despite one in
four pregnancies ending in loss, we are for
some reason not supposed to talk about it.
I am not sure why. So today, I am going to
tell you my story.
After struggling to conceive for six
years with Niko, when I feel pregnant
almost immediately with my second child
it seemed like a miracle. I did all the things,
had all the tests, and everything looked
great. I had my first scan at eight weeks,
when I heard her little heart beating at 171
bpm, it was such a glorious sound. I had
another at 10 weeks to go along with my
NIPT testing, which confirmed all was
well and that we were having a girl. We
had our 12-week scan, and got the all clear.
Those first three scans, I’m sure other
parents can relate, you hold your breath
just hoping that they are ok and it is such a
relief to get the all clear.
Niko found out he was going to be
a big brother, and my husband and I
announced to the world that a little girl
would be joining us in August, 2021. We
were ecstatic.
That was until Friday 12 February,
2021, that day will be forever etched in my
memory. I had an OB appointment, I was
14 + 2, well into the second trimester and
I thought that I was in the “safe zone”. It’s
strange how life can turn so quickly. Only
two weeks earlier we were celebrating the
joyous news that we were having a little
girl to make our family complete, so when
I attended that day, I never expected the
heartbreak that was to follow.
As my OB zoomed over my stomach
with the ultrasound wand, she said ‘baby
is measuring a little small”… In response
to that I thought “oh well, they can’t all be
big like Niko”, but then she looked at me
and said “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat”.
She then wrote “NFH” on the screen,
“No Foetal Heartbeat”.
I actually said “but she was fine last
week” like that was somehow supposed to
make a difference.
According to her size she had stopped
growing about two days earlier, at what
would have been 13 weeks and 6 days.
After being comforted by my OB I was
booked in for a d&c first thing Monday
morning but I was sent home with my
dead baby still inside me.
My body was playing a cruel trick on
me, because it hadn’t realised the baby
had died and continued to have all of the
reactions of a pregnant body. I still looked
pregnant, still had morning sickness,
nausea, food aversions and a heightened
sense of smell, but my baby’s heart was no
longer beating.
Monday 15 February, at what should
have been 14+5, just two weeks from
learning the glorious news that we would
be having a little girl join us in August was
the day she was taken away.
The last time my husband Tony and I
arrived at Calvary Hospital together it was
for the delivery of our beautiful boy, this
time our baby wouldn’t be coming home
with us.
Because of COVID Tony couldn’t go
past the entrance. I was guided into Day
Surgery without him; I’ve never felt so
alone.
My OB greeted me at the theatre doors
and hugged me as I cried on her shoulder.
She held my hand as they put me to sleep
through my silent tears, this time though
the baby she would deliver wouldn’t be
coming home with me.
I know I’m not the first, nor will I
be the last that this will happen to, I’ve
got friends who’ve had to endure the
devastation of still birth. However you lost
your baby, I’m sorry for your loss.
It has been eight months and I am
still reminded of her and what might have
been. Grief comes in waves. Those first
few days and weeks were so hard. My body
healed relatively quickly from the surgery
but I am not sure my heart ever will.
So why am I telling you this? Because
if you, like me are part of this crappy club,
I want you to know that it is ok to grieve,
to tell your story and celebrate the baby
you never had a chance to meet. One in
four women have suffered a miscarriage. I
am the one in four.
Following my miscarriage so many
people reached out to me, to tell me of
their losses, how they never really truly felt
like they could properly grieve, because
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THE BULLETIN December 2021