hospital6David said he would come back at 3.30pm to bless and baptise Frankie, and then left us so we could spend some time together.  All I wanted to do was hold Frankie, and eventually the epidural had worn off enough that I was allowed to walk and go back to the Fay Turner suite.  Samantha had finished her shift and left us, and a lovely male midwife took over from her.  I couldn’t thank Samantha enough for all her hard work, care and dedication to us while I was giving birth to Frankie.

Once back in the Fay Turner Suite my parents and husband held Frankie while I had a shower, and when I came out the male midwife came in to do Frankie’s hand and footprints for us.  I was still willing him to open his eyes (which were blue, my Mum moved his eyelids gently so we could have a look).

I didn’t feel as sore or battered as I thought I would after giving birth to him but I rested on the bed as much as possible, holding on to Frankie.  I had updated everyone on this blog and facebook that he’d been born and again the outpouring of support, comments, messages and love were incredible.  I felt very blessed to have such wonderful support from everyone.

Despite feeling strangely at peace, I still felt as if I had been cheated by losing Frankie like this.  After having six miscarriages in the past I really hoped that my time to be a mother had come with Frankie, but God obviously had other ideas and wanted him in heaven as one of his angels along with all the others I lost.  But why did he have to have my Frankie, when there are tons of women out there who don’t look after themselves, who smoke and drink while they are pregnant and have perfect babies, and there are women I know who have beautiful, lovely children but don’t care and leave them with babysitters at every possible opportunity so they can go out partying and drinking with their friends.  They are the lucky ones, and they don’t even realise it.  It makes me so mad.

My husband and I cried and shed tons of tears all day, taking it in turns to hold Frankie.  Just after lunch the nurses brought some ice packs in and put them under the blankets in his little crib, so that he wouldn’t degenerate quickly and my husband put Radio 2 on via the TV in the room, as it was as quiet as anything and it helped to hear something slightly “normal”, although I felt anything but normal and totally disconnected to the outside world.

Then at around 3.15pm, just before The Rev’d David Southall came back to bless and baptise Frankie, a song came on the radio that made me sit bolt upright.

“Oh my god,” I said to my husband.  “Have you heard the lyrics to this?”

The song was almost over but my husband managed to download it on his tablet and played it back.  Within seconds me, my husband and parents were in floods of tears as we listened to the song and the words.  The song was “Let Me Go” by Gary Barlow, and the lyrics were written for Frankie – it was like they were his final words to us:

A room full of sadness
A broken heart
And only me to blame
For every single part
No science or religion
Could make this whole
To be loved but never love
To have but never hold
It’s a life, alone, and a desperate, need
To be held, to be loved, so
This is gonna take a bit of getting used to, but i know what’s right for you

Fly high, and let me go
That sky, will save your soul
When you pass by, and then you’ll know
That this is gonna take a bit of getting used to but I know what’s right, for, you
Let me go

A head full of madness
And no wheres safe
When tears aren’t big enough, and love turns into hate
It’s a life, alone, and a desperate need
To be held, to be loved, so
This is gonna take a bit of getting used to but I know what’s right for you

Fly high, and let me go
That sky, will save your soul
When you pass by, and then you’ll know
That this is gonna take a bit of getting used to but I know what’s right, for, you

So let me go life will get better
And find the love I never gave ya
I know you lie there waiting all night long, so find where you belong

Fly high, and let me go (Let me go)
That sky, will save your soul (Let it save your soul tonight)
Fly high, and let me go(Let me go, let me go)
That sky, will save your soul
But this is gonna take a bit of getting used to but I know what’s right, for, you
Let me go

We had been thinking about what music we would have at his funeral, but as soon as we heard this song, we knew this would be one of the songs and we would have it at the end of the ceremony.  As Frankie would be cremated we decided to have it playing as the curtains close at the end of the service.

hospital7At just gone 3.30pm Rev’d David Southall arrived to bless and baptise Frankie.  After my shower I forced myself to put on a dress, do my hair and put on some make up.  I didn’t want to be unkempt and wearing a nightshirt when Frankie was baptised, I wanted him to be proud of his Mummy and I wanted to make an effort for him.  I sat on the edge of the bed in the room with my husband holding Frankie in my arms, and my Dad filmed him being baptised and my Mum took some photos.

It was one of the saddest moments of my life, especially when Rev’d David Southall said “Francesco Enrico Ventura, I baptise you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit” and placed holy water on his forehead.  I knew for certain that he was one of Gods angels now, and that he’d been baptised as an angel of God, and my heart broke into a million billion trillion pieces all over again.  None of us could stop crying, we were in floods of tears and Rev’d Southall gave us a bit of space and came back a few minutes later.  I was so grateful to him for baptising Frankie and for making him one of God’s angels.

After he left my Dad had to go and feed Curley, so my husband went with my Dad so he could go home and change as he’d been in the same clothes for 3 days.  The only reason he even entertained the idea of leaving me was because my Mum was with me and I wasn’t on my own, and my Dad said they would be as quick as they could.  I couldn’t believe that my husband wouldn’t leave me alone for a second, not even to go and stretch his legs and walk to the reception of the hospital and shop, and I was very worried about him.

While my Dad and husband were gone I had a visit from one of the top consultants who wanted to discuss whether we wanted Frankie to have a full post mortem.  My husband and I had decided against it, mainly because we had been told that a full post mortem would take 2-3 weeks and he would have to go to Birmingham Hospital to have it done there, and that would mean not having his funeral until Christmas week.  We wanted to have him laid to rest as soon as possible, so instead we opted to have a partial post mortem where they could take a blood sample from him along with tissue, skin and muscle samples.  They could do this at Worcester very quickly and then release him to the Chapel Of Rest at AV Band in Worcester, and left the forms with me that my husband and I had to fill in and sign.

My husband and I initially thought that we would go home that night, but as time went on I realised that I just couldn’t leave Frankie at the hospital on such a cold dark night on his own with strangers, and I had an overwhelming feeling that I just had to spend the night with him.  My husband agreed and said he’d bring some extra clothes with him for the night with some clean towels for us.

hospital8My Dad called just before he picked up my husband to ask if it was okay if my Aunty Lena came up to the hospital to see me and Frankie.  I think he wanted to make sure I was up to it and I was really touched that he checked with me first, rather than assume that it was okay, but I was fine with her coming up.   My best friend Jennie also came up to see me, and I have never been so glad to see her in all the years I’ve known her.

Jennie and my Aunty Lena were there at the same time with me, my husband and parents and all of them took it in turns to hold Frankie.  My Aunty bought a white rosary for him and I put this round Frankie to keep him safe on his journey.

Once Jennie, my parents and my Aunty had left, my husband and I were on our own with Frankie.  We had baked potatoes for tea and lay on the bed with Frankie in between us. I stroked his little cheek gently and cried.  When we were ready to go to sleep my husband put Frankie to bed in his crib and put a blanket over him.

We slept with the light on, just in case he was afraid of the dark.