Pregnancy and infant loss still shrouded in silence

DESPITE its prevalence, the topic of pregnancy and infant loss remains shrouded in silence, and the (lack of) care some women receive from the health-care system exacerbates the traumatic experience.

Tenesha Z: The hospital did nothing for me. I delivered my daughter (Paige), who was in breech position by myself on the female surgical ward. They had no empathy for me, and it was the worst experience of my life.

Janelle A: After my son died (Trevin), the nurse asked if I wanted a hospital disposal, while I held my dead child.

Mercelyn Gopey: When Faith-Ann died, the staff at the hospital were very supportive and they sent a social worker to do initial counselling. However, this was not followed up.

Crystal-Gayle Williams: When Damani died in the NICU I won’t forget the cold faces in that room. Nobody showed any empathy. Nobody told me what to do. I just stood there, lost in another world, waiting to be awakened from a horrifying dream.

Gay’Brielle Mullings, mom to Naomi Kavell: They need to stop placing child loss parents on the same wards with mothers who have their infants. It’s inconsiderate and sometimes feels like the final nail in the coffin to drive you insane.

Sabrina Thomas: ‘DON’T TOUCH ME, YOUNG LADY, GET UP OFF THE BED YOURSELF, IF YOU DON’T STOP THE NOISE I’M GOING TO WALK OUT ON YOU!’ Those lines keep replaying in my head. I left the hospital that day without my baby, Alexander Barnes, and a hole in my heart and trauma that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In Jamaica, societal stigma and a lack of open discourse contribute to the hushed nature of this struggle. Parents find themselves grappling with grief in a culture where discussing such loss is considered taboo, compounding the emotional burden they carry.

Tenesha: A lot people who are close to me, they did not know what to say in fear of saying the wrong thing. They just let me know that they were sorry for what happened and that they are there for me if I need someone to talk to. My best friend would sit on the phone with me in silence, and that really helped me.

Keesanoy MS, mom to Kairo: I had fraternal twins, and my daughter Kairo died, leaving my son. I was told by some family and friends that at least I still had one child left and that I should be glad that all of us didn’t die.

Mercelyn: I wish people were more understanding, sensitive and empathetic towards me. I wish they had said, tears are a language God understands and it’s OK to cry no matter how long after the loss.

What adds to the challenge is the scarcity of statistics on pregnancy and infant loss in Jamaica. The most recent available data dates back to 2017, leaving a significant gap in understanding the scope of this issue.

Individuals and organisations can contribute by initiating conversations about pregnancy and infant loss and showing support to bereaved parents, fostering a culture of empathy, to break the silence surrounding this deeply emotional experience. By shedding light on this silent struggle, Jamaica can move towards a more compassionate and understanding society for grieving parents. So while you wear pink during October to raise awareness and save the boobies, wear blue as well to remember the babies gone too soon.

What the 4Damani initiative (not a foundation) has done:

•Petitioned the governor general to proclaim October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month and October 15 as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

•Created a virtual support group as a safe space for parents to vent, share and heal, knowing they’re not alone on the journey

•Facilitate support group meetings with a counsellor/therapist

•Conducted bereavement care training with a small group of healthcare professionals

•Donated memory packages for bereaved mothers to a few hospitals across Jamaica

•Yesterday, hosted a ‘wave of light’ at Emancipation Park for people to join.