David Sonny Beanland

I didn't give up, I let go... the story of a TOPfMR (Termination of Pregnancy for Medical Reasons) Mummy & Daddy.

Dear David,

When I was born, I was born with gastrosciesis, a hole in my stomach and I never really knew whether I would be able to conceive children. It was a very long 17 month of tests and all clears, before we got the positive result and boy was I amazed when Kya arrived. She was amazing, every first seemed more special because she was our little chosen button. We ecided to try again very quickly in case it took a long time again, however when she was only 6 months old, in November 2006, I realised I was late, I decided to test, and I sat there looking at the test stick I saw 2 lines, I was pregnant with you. I ran downstairs and gave your Daddy a huge hug, I was ecstatic. We told the whole family on Christmas day, everyone was so excited ~ Granny, Granddad, Lisa, James, Grandma, Grumps... all so delighted.

The first trimester came and went, and everything was fine, in fact the pregnancy was like clockwork, just minus all the bad bits, You gave me no morning sickness, no tiredness, I felt fine, I didn’t feel pregnant really! I was able to watch my gorgeous bump expand as well as look after the special wee girl in my life too. I was just so happy.

In January 2007 me and your step brother James attended you're 13 week scan, we couldn't wait to see you, and called you Peanut. James was so excited to part of this pregnancy, and to be there when his Daddy couldn't. The scan lasted minutes, the sonographer said you were only 11 weeks 2 days not 13 - which I knew was wrong, but she didn’t indicate any problems, you seemed to be developing fine. James was excited to see you growing in my tummy, he was beaming from ear to ear. He longed for a brother really, someone to play the playstation with, and someone to teach to ride a bike. Your Step brother and Step Sister adored Kya, and were waiting to adore you too.

As far as I was concerned, we'd made it past the risky part, the height of miscarriage, and now it was just the home run! I had made big plans for you coming into our lives, with you and Kya so close in age I had to plan, I would be a great mum to you both, you would grow so close to your sister, you would be inseparable, and I felt so so lucky! If there is one thing I am it's a good mum, even on the days I feel rubbish, the smiles of Kya always reassured me.

Everyone was getting quite excited, Nana Hewitt had knitted a blue cardigan even though we didn't know you were going to be a boy, she just said she knew. And so we got a wee bib saying "Granddad's little star"... if only we knew then what we know now.

Thursday 12th of April 2007 arrived, the day of your 20 week anomaly scan, I asked James to come along again so he would be able to know if you were a boy or girl. I was 20 weeks and 5 days pregnant with you now, I had a big tummy and could see and feel you kicking ~ James loved to watch my big belly flip!

My name was shouted and I lay on the bed, the cold gel put on my tummy... James shouted straight away "is it a boy?" the sonographer asked if it was okay to tell him, I agreed, and she checked and said "come here, look, two legs and what's that in the middle", James shouted so loud "it's a boy"..... my heart skipped a beat; I had my girl, and now I found out you were a boy, that would complete my 2.4 family. It would mean Daddy woould have 2 girls 2 boys... just perfect.

I wasn’t aware how long we were in the room, it seemed longer than Kya's anomoly scan had taken but I just watched you on the screen. The sonographer was studying you for a while, she asked someone else to come in, and then said "Amanda, something is wrong with the baby’s heart, and I need you to come back tomorrow”. I didn't know what to do, I ran out the hospital got a taxi home and starting looking at congenital heart defects in babies, and asking people if they knew what it could be. The hospital gave me no idea that day.

The next day was Friday 13th April 2007, and it turned out to be an unlucky day indeed for us. Daddy and I left James at home with Grandma and took Kya with us, as I went back to be scanned again, I was taken in right away, not allowed to wait with the other prenant ladies. The Senior Doctor done the scan and was writing things down, and was very very quiet... Daddy kept asking and she just kept saying she'd tell us shortly. We were given 2 photographs of you and led into the bereavement room, I didn't understand why, I mean you were never going to die. I'm not naive Dayday, you're not the first baby in the family to have passed away, but to me that would never happen, because surely lightening doesn't strike twice in one family. The Doctor looked at me, looked at Daddy and bowed her head before saying "I’m so sorry, it's not good news, your son has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and a cleft palate".

I looked at her numb, she may as well have been speaking swahili! I asked "Can this be fixed? Is he okay? I'll do everything for him, can they operate? The sonographer replied that your HPLH was so severe your chances of surviving this alone were very slim - just 3%, however she also suspected a chromosome problem. I was offered to see the Head Surgeon in St Mary's in Manchester, but only if the chromosones were okay. If they weren't okay, then no one would touch me, they would simply let you die. I went straight away for the amnio, I remember the sonographer saying to me “Amanda, the best case scenario is your son has Downs - in which case he has a very very slim survival chanceof possibly a few years, worst is Edwards or Pataus - where his chance isn't a chance at all, he probably won't make it through pregnancy with those, but either way with his HPLH it's not looking good, get ready for the worst possible outcome". When I went into the amnio the pain of the needle inserting your sac of amniotic fluid was nothing compared to the feeling of my heart breaking. Why us? Why you? What had I done? Was it because it was too soon? Did I have something wrong with me? In a flash those questions whistled through my head, yet we had no answers.

We had to wait 4 days on the results, the longest 4 days of my life, all I wanted was to be be able to change things and hold you so close and protect you like a Mummy should. Granny and Granddad was with me the whole time, they are my heroes Dayday, what they did for me, for Daddy, for Kya... was amazing. The little things like letting me cry, made all the difference.

On Tuesday 17th April 2007 the phone rang, I was sat on the recliner chair and Granny was at my feet, tears in her eyes and hand in a prayer shape. Granddad was in the kitchen busying himself with Kya. I answered and it was Pauline, the Screening Midwife, David, you had Full Mosaic Pataus Syndrome (Trisomy 13)... the worst possible outcome indeed.

I didn't know what to do. I googled it and me and your Daddy just cried. I decided to email someone whose child had pataus, Katrina advised me to think really hard and speak to my consultant. She said her child’s life, all be it that she was living with pataus, wasn’t the life she had hoped, she was on full time oxygen, she was blind and deaf and tube fed and had kidney problems, she'd been at home since 13 days old waiting to die. Little Macy was one in 11 million Dayday, she fought so hard, she passed away in March 2008, and I broke my heart, because she always will be my little Hero, a warrior princess, who broke the mould in more ways that one.

I was so scared David, the options I was given was, carry on until you die inside of me, end your suffering and go into early labour, or carry on and hope you breathe then let you die in my arms. I was terrified. To "terminate" sounded like I didn't want you, but I did, I adored you, I needed you, I wanted you, and I always will. Your Daddy was so scared too, we didn't know what to do, were you suffering? Were you feeling pain? Could you cope much longer? Your heart rate was much lower than any other baby, because your right hand side was doing the double the work, which meant heart failure could be imminent.

I had to think so hard, so I rang your great Granny Jean and she said to me 'No one will ever think less of you for ending your sons suffering, how do you know he's not in pain now?, You don't, be a good Mother Amanda, set him free'.

Those words were poignant, however, I still wasn't 100% sure so I spoke to my consultant. I asked her to tell me straight and not sugar coat what was happening.

She looked at me and said the words 'Amanda, David is not compatible with life - he has a 1% chance of making it through the pregnancy and labour, and if he does, he'll die in minutes, no surgeon will fix his heart because he has pataus - and I am 99.9% sure his heart won't hold out passed labour”.

Those words killed me, my heart now had a David shaped hole, which will never be filled until we meet again. My decision for you my son was to say the INEVITABLE goodbye to you before you were due. After phoning your Daddy in tears, we agreed, and at that point I signed what felt like your life away. I agreed that we wouldn't have the injection to stop your heart, I'd just go into prem labour and if you were born breathing you could die in our arms.

That second, my hopes, my dreams and my ideas for a whole life with you David just died. I had to take the pain from you, I had to deal with not having you in my life every day for the rest of my life - to save you ever suffering. I had to take the pain off you and set you free.

Those next 2 days were the hardest I have ever had, feeling every kick from you, knowing at any time it could be your last.

On Friday 20th April 2007, I was taken to the delivery suite. I was induced and at 2.45pm labour started, I was given gas and air, pethidine and finally at about 9pm I was put on morphine. They checked, but no heartbeat, you had gone. To be with Uncle Andrew and your big cousin Gavin, who had died in 2004. I lay there with Granny and Grandma. Daddy and Granddad were watching Kya and James.

I lay there with my mobile phone in my hand, sending text messages to Aunty Claire, telling her how I was feeling, she was due Joshua a day before I was due you. Aunty Claire text me the words to the song two little boys and I cried.

Do you think I would leave you dying
There's room on my horse for two
Climb up here Dayday, we'll soon by flying
Back to the ranks so blue
Can you feel son I'm all a tremble
Perhaps it's the battle's noise
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys

At 11.25pm I felt the urge to push. Me your Granny and your Grandma were there, all holding hands and wiping tears, it was so hard, knowing you were trying to get into the word, knowing you had already died, and as I pushed you into this world at 11.42pm I wanted so much for you to scream that little broken heart out, to say I'm fine Mummy, to look at me and to get better..... but you only weighed 11.09oz, and at just 22 weeks gestation, you had gone, gone to play with the angels.

Your Granny saw you first, then Grandma and Daddy arrived in minutes, you were put into a tiny Moses basket. I was very very sick and it took about 15 minutes before I looked at you, Our son, Our David Sonny, it was bittersweet, you were so gorgeous, but it was very obvious with you're cleft palate, you're 4 1/2 fingers on your left hand, 6 on your right hand, and 6 toes on each foot, you were too poorly for this earth. You also had low birth weight, wide apart eyes and low ears it was all we needed to see of the disorder that had ripped you of your life. One tiny little chromosone unseen by human eyes, had killed you.

The midwife, Anne-Marie took you and put a beautiful blue hat on you, she said "oh baby boy we don't want you getting cold", I was heartbroken, she spoke to you like you were alive, yet you were sleeping forever, an angel.

At 6.30am I decided I wanted you baptised, and we had you blessed and christened by the Roman Catholic father, Father Winstanley. "David Sonny Beanland, blessed to live with God eternally"

When Granddad, Daddy, James and Kya arrived we wrote in the remembrance book, every single one of us putting our memories of you, but James wanted to go last, and didn't want to show anyone what he'd wrote. I respected that, and we closed the book when he'd done.

Then came the hardest thing we have ever ever had to do in our lives, we walked away from the hospital and got into the car. We should have been putting your car seat in there, but we were walking away with a book containing your bands, hat, and footprints, with empty arms and broken hearts.

Then came your funeral, Tuesday 01 May 2007, that morning Granny and I made some sandwiches for the people that would be coming back and I quickly tidied up a few of Kya's toys. Daddy left with Kya and dropped her off at her godparent’s house; I was so sad to let her go but knew if I had taken her - because it was only a graveside service, she'd have been a bit of a nuisance, and this was the day to say goodbye to you, and it was the day for the family to do that too, so I needed Kya to be safe with her Godparents and not taking away someone’s chance to say goodbye.

We had a cup of tea and then went to stand outside to await the cars arrival at 9.45am, we were stood there for what felt like an eternity, all dressed up and neighbours looking over wondering why. There was me, Granny, Daddy, Grandma, Grumps, Uncle John and Aunty Kirsty and Auntie Diane. To be honest I only wanted very close family – I just wanted those that would always remember to be there. Granddad couldn’t get any time to get back to Blackpool and I know only too well how much this hurt him ~ he never really got to say a proper goodbye to you David, and it still tears him up now.

The car came around the corner so slowly and for a split second I was a little disappointed that it was silver, and then Daddy said, "oh we're not getting the Daimler".

It was only me and Daddy in the funeral car. First off the funeral director showed me the flowers in the boot of the car, we had 3 posies and 6 red roses. I had written the cards on the posies that morning so we placed them on the right posy and went to sit in the car.

In the seat in front of where we were going to sit was the tiniest white coffin, with little silver handles, and a silver plaque saying "David Sonny Beanland ~ 20.04.07". We hadn't paid for the coffin but what the Funeral Director had done in his own time was paint little blue stars and a blue teddy on it.... I was heartbroken. For the last time you were in front of me, and I wanted to hold the coffin on my knee, but was scared of moving anything.

The neighbours over the road had stopped curtain twitching and had just opened blinds and looked out at us. I saw the old lady over the road with her head bowed, and the young couple opposite us with their hands over their mouths and tears in their eyes, not even sure what to do.

The driver got into the car and I was sobbing, they went to start the car.... vrrrrrrrrrrrr nothing..... Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr nothing.... *cough cough* vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr nothing......

Daddy said is something wrong, and we heard “the car won’t start”. I was gobsmacked; I thought come on this is my Son's day, how can you make this any worse, how can the car breakdown?

They tried again but to no avail, so the Funeral Director got on the telephone to the office and within 2 minutes, the big black Daimler arrived and Daddy smiled, he simply said, the small one was never good enough for our boy.

The heartbreaking part was moving you from the car, The Funeral Director changed cars and put you in the middle of me and Daddy, my neighbours faces were awful to see, made ME feel worse for upsetting them. The tears were flowing from their faces and you could just tell that they hadn’t expected this. But the fact was I had had a bump and it had gone and had no baby, so I don’t know what they had assumed.

We got to the graveside and the Funeral Director carried you, your daddy or Uncle John didn't feel thye could, to scared to fall. You see Daddy's job was a gravedigger, he had dug these graves before, he had done it since Lisa was born, but never ever did he think he'd be overlooking his son’s grave.

The Reverend was amazing, he done the most wonderful service all about sacrificing our happiness so you had the best, and how Hannah had done that for her son in the bible, and he read the story of Moses in the bulrushes. It made me realise the worry I had had about my faith was silly, and that God wouldn’t have given me you so poorly if he had felt he was for this earth, you were always “too beautiful for earth”.

After he done his service the Reverend offered us to place things into the ground with you, they lowered you and I looked over, seeing your tiny coffin in that space so empty, I stood, looked, I started to cry and let my tears fall on your coffin, I simply said what’s on our half hearts pendants, one on your hand, one round my neck. "I love you more today than yesterday but less than tomorrow" and I placed your rose into the ground. I placed from me and one from Kya. Then Granny done the same, and the other people there all done the same.

After the funeral was over, we went home and before I even got in the house I got out the funeral car and right into our own, I had to get Kya, we got to her godparents and I picked her up and just hugged the poor lass until she was squirming to get away. I smelled her hair, I kissed her cheeks, I just wanted to hold her so much.

Back at home we had a few sandwiches and a cup of tea, and then slowly people started to leave. Daddy went to see his other children and Granny and I decided it was so hot we'd put Kya's paddling pool out in the garden. So we did, and we have pictures of her splashing in there with the date reading at the bottom of the picture.

At night we all went to see the graveside, and Daddy done his best to remove the huge rocks that had been left in the pile. Then we got home and Granny fell asleep on the chair with Kya.... and that was our day, it was over, and goodbye’s done. But it’s never over really.

At my 6 week check I was told that it was nothing genetic that your Daddy and I had, the reason you were poorly was simply “one of those things”. Therefore Daddy and I decided to try again for a baby sister or brother for you. Not a baby to replace you David, no one could ever do that, no one could replace our son, you are too special.

In August before your due date, your Headstone was erected, we decided on the words
David Sonny Beanland
Born Asleep 20-04-07
Beloved Son, Brother and Grandson
Your song has ended but your melody lingers on

Then in November 2007, I was feeling really dizzy, sick, and run down - I was pregnant with your baby sibling, and terrified. Who is the first person you tell when your pregnant? For us it was your screening Midwife Pauline. She booked Mummy in at 6 weeks and 6 days pregnant; there on the screen was this little speck of dust with a flicker… a heartbeat. Then at 10 weeks I returned for another scan, every single day I was so scared of losing your sibling, yet again the speckle had turned into a bean, with a flickering heartbeat.

At 14 weeks, before I’d even booked in with a midwife I had an anomaly scan, all measurements were fine and your sibling had seemed to be progressing well. I, on the other hand had severe dizziness and sickness - but I'd endure anything as long as this baby was healthy. Then at 18 weeks pregnant, the big one, the scan I was dreading, the one where I’d know if there were any markers for this baby to have Pataus, for it’s heart to be checked. As I lay on the bed, Daddy and Granny beside me, the sonographer tickling my swollen stomach with the scanner, checking every minute detail of the baby, showing me everything she could check, asking if I needed to know more about things, checking the face for cleft, checking the hands and feet, we got the words we wanted to hear "All Clear". Then a funny thing happened, just as she hit the babies face her printer printed 2 pictures. Nothing had ever happened to her like that before, and we knew David that you were being a Monkey and saying it was okay to love this baby... who just happened to be a girl. I was happy, but in all honesty a little part of me felt cheated that she wasn’t a boy, it felt like I’d lost you again. I know that sounds selfish David but my emotions were everywhere, and very soon that left and I was left with elation that our little girl was healthy.

You’d think by now I’d be delighted, and I was, but I was still so scared. I went back to the consultant at 23 weeks in tears saying you have to recheck me, you can’t leave me now I need to be rechecked. So I had another more detailed heart scan. Again all clear.

I remember every day of holding you're sister in my tummy and thinking, is this the last day? Will she die today like you did David. I remember a week before she was due walking with you're Granny in the woods and her saying we need to get the cot set up, and me saying "Mum if she dies, can I exhume David and have them reburied together".... You're Granny cried David, she knew every day I wasn't thinking when, I was thinking if.

Then I started with headaches and high blood pressure and I thought she had gone, the hospital monitored me and gave me a sweep. 2 days later, 15th July 2008, I woke up with stomach ache, which turned into waves of pain....contractions. After a frantic and not very organised dash to the hospital I sat on the bed to be told she was coming, very soon. As the midwife wheeled me to delivery I prayed to you David, prayed for the strength to get me through, prayed for your sister to arrive healthy, prayed for her to scream David, I prayed for you to keep her with me.

At 13.11pm I pushed your sister into the world, but no sudden scream, the cord was round her neck twice and tight, the midwife got it off, and Granny cut the cord, that's when she screamed and rasped at her breath - and I mouthed thank you to you David, for being your sisters guardian angel and saviour.

We named your sister Eleanor, which means "shining light". When she was 6 months old, Like Kya was with you, I fell pregnant again. This time like the last, full of worry but on your 2 and a half year anniversary... 20th October 2009, Adam~Jesse, arrived. He is your image Dayday.

David you are in our hearts every day, and just because we let you go free doesn't mean we don't love you, because we do and we will forever and ever - you are our son, and nothing or no one will ever change that.

We love you so much - and every day we think of you - and we will do until we come to meet you.

David I wish people could understand that grief doesn't end if we don't speak about you. It doesn't end at all, we can and never will forget you, and we will keep you in our lives forever.

Godbless my Perfect Prince.

Mummy and Daddy.


David has many many friends in heaven, and this goes to show how often babies in the UK die. SANDS has stated that 17 babies a day in the UK die! That is 17 too many, please if you've had the time to read this, have the time to look at SANDS and see if you can ever help this amazing charity in their contribution to research into babies dying. I couldn't be the person I am today without SANDS and the many many amazing mummies, daddies and grannies I have met through there.

Love to my darling son and his many many friends.... especially Ross, Hope, Erin Jane, Joshua, Mia, Macy Moo, Kayden, Jacob, Ally, Sam, Bryonie and Lucy, Benjamin, Mira, Gino, Taylor, Matty, Joe, Ellie, Ryan, Grace, Daisy, Bradley, Chloe, Ella, Max, Rosie, Kamyar, Mikal, Dion, Tyrese, Bert, Harley, Lauren, Cole, Andrew, Thomas, Sophie, Angelique, Alison and many many more.... xoxoxox