Matthew John – Died Aged 9 Days
Poetry
Professor Gordon Stirrat
I lost a baby yesterday
He was not mine by flesh or gene
But so much mine by care and prayer.
And I lost him-
I don’t know why.
It hurts a lot
It shows – a little
He was not mine by flesh or gene
But so much mine by care and prayer.
And I lost him-
I don’t know why.
It hurts a lot
It shows – a little
I lost a baby last week.
The more I look for reasons
The less I understand.
But I lost him-
I don’t know why
It hurts a lot
But I will not let it show.
I lost a baby last month
So much promise at his birth
Dashed as he lost the fight for breath
His strength unequal to the task
Ours too much to help him live.
Oh God, I am so angry
And I must let it show.
This is one of two poems on the website which were written in the 1990s when I was a consultant obstetrician. I cared for many women who were at high risk of adverse outcome and both poems followed the death of newborn babies. Once again the emotional impact on me of their deaths meant that I had to express my loss which, of course, could not compare with that of the mothers and fathers.
Matthew John was born to a mother who developed pre-eclampsia in all her pregnancies and had lost babies in the past as a result. On this occasion things seemed to be going so well after he was born then he developed complications from artificial ventilation and died aged 9 days.
University of Bristol
Beautiful. so important and wonderful to have this piece here to show the soul of caring to the students and that it is ok to really care and feel even as a prof! thanks for putting it out there.
It is fascinating to look at such a difficult situation through the eyes of the clinician and to appreciate how affected they are as well as the family of the child.
This is a really beautiful poem. It opened my eyes to the empathy of a clinician and how hard losing a patient can be on a clinician because of that empathy that is so crucial in supporting a patient. When the author says their loss could not compare with that of the mothers and fathers this really struck me because clinicians support those who have lost someone and break that news even when they are feeling that loss themselves and that must be incredibly difficult and emotional. It’s also incredibly selfless, to allow the family to grieve and to support them without drawing on emotions yourself. Overall, I think this poem depicts the vulnerability that comes with empathy.
I had the enormous good fortune to be under the care of Prof. Stirrat in 1988,1990 and 1994, for the births of my 3 children following the stillbirth of my son Josh (intra partum asphyxia, unknown cause) at 42 weeks under a different team.
I only found his poems today and they brought me to tears…I knew he was an outstanding clinician and the loveliest of men, so reading of his pain should have been no surprise, but the power of his words caught me off guard and I’m a grateful, weepy mess.
Thank you, Prof. Stirrat, if you read this. Thank you for ensuring the safe deliveries of my beautiful children;
thank you for coming in at 7.30am to welcome and reassure me on the day of induction, because your 2nd in command (the lovely Ken Bidgood) was on holiday, and for visiting again at 5pm to congratulate me on my son;
thank you for abruptly leaving the group of student doctors on your morning round, to come and wish me well on my third and last induction as I made very anxious tea in the tiny kitchen on the ward and waited for my daughter (the nurses noticed!);
and thank you for attending the annual church service to remember lost babies, for watching me help my toddler son walk up the aisle to place a flower in the overflowing basket of blooms in memory of his big brother and for reaching out to squeeze my hand as I returned to my seat. It meant the world.
Bless you for everything. I’ll never forget your kindness.