Stillbirth:  Megan and Phil

I often wonder how I could love someone I've never met so very much. Someone so tiny and perfect whose eyes I've never seen open. Someone I've never shared a cuddle or a conversation with. Someone that I won't be able to see all grown up as a man with a wife and children. When I became pregnant with Crispin I imagined I would have all of these experiences, but sadly it was never meant to be.

When you first become pregnant the thought that something might happen to your baby never even crosses your mind. You live in blissful ignorance and you think that once you get past the crucial 12 week stage everything is going to be ok. You hear of the occasional story of someone who has something awful happen to them but you would never expect that you could become one of those people and it would be your baby that did not survive.

My pregnancy went very smoothly initially. I was obsessed with finding the perfect white cot, with matching bedding, and was getting used to the idea of stopping work and becoming a mum. We found out we were having a little boy at the 13 week scan and everything was tracking along nicely. At our 19 week scan we were told that the baby was not growing as much as he should be. He was only in the third percentile for my dates. From that point on we had scans and doppler tests every two weeks to check the rate of growth. Each time we went to the specialist I would hope that somehow, miraculously, our baby would suddenly have had a growth spurt and returned to normal size – but from that 19 week scan he really didn't grow much at all. It was a very stressful six weeks for my husband and I and our families – and looking back I'm really not sure how I coped with it all. I used to read the chat rooms on baby websites and was angry that at the time I should be joining in a discussion about what sort of buggy I was going to buy, I was having to face up to the fact that my baby was not going to make it. Our baby was soon diagnosed with severe IUGR (Intra Uterine Growth Restriction) due to a fault in my placenta, and the chance of him surviving was getting smaller and smaller. The doctor likened it to trying to drink through a pinched straw, and slowly that straw became more and more blocked until the baby had no hope of survival.

On 18 January 2008 my son died. I had to wait two long, sad, and completely stressful days before I could be admitted into hospital to be induced. I was just over 26 weeks and my body simply wasn't ready to give birth – after a traumatic and extremely painful labour our son Crispin was stillborn on 21 January; he weighed a tiny 450 grams. Due to the fact that we had had to wait for so long to find out what was going to happen to him I had sort of detached myself from him somewhat. So when he was born I did not look at him or hold him and that is something I regret terribly and still think about every day. We do have a photo of him but I will never forgive myself for not wanting to spend a few precious moments with him. I do know that at the time it was the best thing for me to do it was the only way I knew how to cope with the situation.

The days, weeks, and months following Crispin's death are somewhat of a blur to me. I do not recall much of 2008 - I was simply existing day by day. The reactions from some family and friends really surprised me. Some could not cope, they didn't know what to do or say when they were around me so they just chose to ignore me, ignore Crispin or the fact that he'd even existed. On the flip side other friends were amazing and I had so much love and support from them, my family and my husband - without it I don't know how I would have coped.

Eight weeks after Crispin's birth I became pregnant again. I desperately wanted a baby and was so thankful that I was able to become pregnant so quickly. I was terrified that something was going to happen to this baby but I had a fantastic Obstetrician who, along with my GP, assembled an army of people who helped me through. My placenta had clotted in my pregnancy with Crispin (as well as the IUGR) so I began injecting myself in the stomach daily with an anti-clotting medicine. My Obstetrician scanned the baby on every visit to check that it was ok - and at 13 weeks I again found out I was having another little boy. Apart from the stress of worrying about this second baby dying, my pregnancy went very well. And on 9 December 2008, after a short labour, our gorgeous son Miller Jarvis was born. I was in complete shock. After 64 weeks of pregnancy I hadn't really expected to ever come home with a live baby!

I have learnt so much from Crispin – my outlook on life has completely changed and this whole experience has made me re-evaluate what is important to me. I have also met some of the most wonderful and understanding people who have helped me deal with his death and have made a lifelong friend who shares a similar story to mine. I don't think I will ever get over losing Crispin but with each day, and the love of my husband, family and Miller, I know that I will get used to not having him around.

I have so much love for both my boys and miss Crispin so much. I do know that without Crispin's death I would not have had Miller so it is really a bittersweet situation. I often wonder what Crispin's personality would have been like and if he would have been much like his little brother. I try to talk about Crispin as much as possible – I know it makes some people feel uncomfortable but to me when I talk about him it keeps his memory alive. I want Miller to know he has a brother who watches over him and I have the footprints of both of my boys on my bedroom wall which I will show Miller once he is old enough to understand.

Megan and Phil hope the findings from the Auckland Stillbirth Study and the Scope Study will help other families avoid the devastating grief of losing a baby.

• To read about the Auckland Stillbirth Study please click here.
• To read about the Scope Study please click here.