Mother's grief for tragic baby

I AM writing this as a tribute to the memory of our little baby.

As a family we have been through very dark days since losing our son and our grief is still very new and raw.

After a relatively trouble-free pregnancy I gave birth three weeks early on Sunday, May 11, to a beautiful, healthy baby weighing just over 7lb.

After much debate, we named our little boy Harry James and were discharged the following day having been given a clean bill of health from the paediatrician.

The next two days passed in a blur of visitors to see the new addition to our family, visits from the midwife, changing nappies and much feeding.

There was nothing other than a touch of jaundice to indicate any problems whatsoever.

Harry was content and doted upon by his five siblings.

I remember thinking we were making a rod for our own backs as he was pounced on and cuddled every time he made the smallest noise.

Nevertheless, we were a contented household.

Little did we know the tragic events that would unfold hours later.

Thursday morning arrived and my husband Keith went off on the school run while I lay in bed feeding Harry.

I suddenly noticed his colour was not good and his body was floppy when picked up.

It was apparent he had stopped breathing.

I dialled 999 and we were rushed to Worthing Hospital where he was resuscitated.

He was taken to the special care baby unit and placed on a ventilator to maintain his breathing.

It was at this time that Keith (who had been brought to the hospital with a police escort) and I were joined by a uniformed police constable.

We were informed that because Harry's "incident" had occurred outside hospital it was necessary to have an officer present.

While Keith and I are obviously aware that not all incidents take place by natural causes, it was unbelievably intrusive to have to share our grief with this officer.

He was also finding the situation very uncomfortable.

To compound this intrusion, we were then joined by two members of the child protection team who took brief statements and our house keys so the scene of crime officers could take photographs of our bed where Harry had been lying.

They also took away the clothes he was wearing.

They did not return them until the morning of Harry's funeral in a Sainsbury's carrier bag.

Finally a decision was made for a team from Guy's Hospital to come down and fetch Harry. He was transferred to London during the afternoon and we followed by car.

The paediatric consultant at Worthing warned us the outlook was very poor because Harry had been without oxygen for a considerable time before his resuscitation.

His treatment at both hospitals was absolutely fantastic.

At Guy's in particular, he was treated with the utmost care and respect and we were kept informed of every aspect of the treatment and diagnostic testing.

The nurses showed such dedication and spoke constantly to Harry, not knowing whether he was capable of hearing.

Most poignantly, although knowing he could not feel pain, they ensured any injection or removal of equipment was done with the most gentle of movements.

On Friday, May 16, after a sleepless night in a parents' room overlooking Tower Bridge, we were encouraged to hold Harry and talk to him.

A CT scan had by now shown severe swelling in his brain consistent with an extensive lack of oxygen and almost certainly incompatible with life.

Many photos were taken for us and we were given a disposable camera to use.

Prints of Harry's hands and feet were made and a lock of his hair was removed.

Our eldest daughter brought our other children to Guy's to say goodbye to their little brother and he was baptised with his family around him.

When the children had gone, we made the decision to have the life support machine turned off and Harry died in our arms without taking another breath.

The ward overlooked the most fabulous view of London and I remember telling him everything we could see, the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament and the Thames.

Much of what has happened since has become a blur.

A post mortem at Great Ormond Street Hospital found Harry had a lower respiratory tract infection.

An inquest had to be opened because he had been found unconscious outside of hospital.

Unfortunately, taking him to Guy's caused a certain amount of red tape, not least the fact that in order to have his little body released for burial it was necessary for Keith and I to go to London again and formally identify him in front of a coroner's officer.

But we were finally able to arrange for our funeral directors to bring him back to Worthing.

Harry is buried in a beautiful cemetery at the foot of the South Downs.

His funeral was short and simple and came almost as a relief following the bewildering events we had been through.

Our funeral directors were fantastic and no request was considered unusual.

The inquest at Southwark Coroner's Court on Wednesday, August 13, should have been a sort of closure for us but The Argus report stirred up many of the feelings we felt in the early days after losing Harry.

We did not attend as the memories of the time at Guy's were too fresh in our minds and the coroner's court is next to the hospital.

It is unfathomable to realise we will never see, hear or touch our baby again, never celebrate his milestones or find out what sort of person he would have grown up to be.

In time we will move on but life will never be the same again for our family.

The coroner, John Sampson, told the inquest that it is always a tragedy to lose a baby and to lose a baby so far from home is even more tragic.

In a report supplied to The Argus by a news agency and printed in early editions on August 14 there were several inaccuracies. The Haywood family's surname was spelt incorrectly as was the name of the coroner. The report also implied Harry had been born with brain damage when in fact he was a healthy baby whose condition developed as a result of the oxygen starvation to his brain. The Argus apologises for the distress this has caused.