‘Sleep, Sleep, Sweet Baby Joseph’

I am shocked that a couple would sue a hospital for taking pictures of their deceased infant. The family’s need for pictures was not great since they already had pictures taken when the baby was born alive. They should have been asked if they wanted the hospital photos before they were delivered to them. But I don’t want their lawsuit, which may change hospital policies, to set us back many decades in the process of mourning our lost babies.

I am a grandmother of five who has attended the birth of four of my grandchildren, including one full-term stillborn grandson, Joseph. Because of the attentive and educated staff at the Michigan hospital where the birth was induced, my daughter, son-in-law and I have many precious memories and mementos of this loved child.

Without the encouragement of a specialized caregiver--a nun--at this hospital, we would have felt self-conscious about taking pictures, locks of hair, footprints and about keeping the baby with us for many hours, holding him and introducing him to the other members of the family.

Immediately after hearing of the baby’s death (no fetal heart tones could be found) my daughter and I were visited by a grief specialist in her hospital room, who explained to us in a quiet and helpful manner what would happen, how the baby would look and what our options were immediately after the birth and for the funeral. She encouraged us--gave us permission--to perform many rituals that we would otherwise not have thought of or, as I said, have been too timid to request.

She gave us grief literature to read and visited us throughout the hospital confinement. She personally requested that hospital rules be stretched so that I could be present at the delivery as my daughter desired; she was with us in the room with Joseph immediately after the birth, helping me to bathe him and dress him for the pictures that followed. She was the one who, after my daughter’s call later that night, came to her room to carry the infant downstairs to the “special place” that we knew was the morgue.

She even agreed to come to his funeral and say a few words. She and the other nurses at this hospital made the difference between unresolved and unrelenting grief and the normal constructive grief we experienced.

All of these considerations, this sensitivity to the family who has lost an infant, is relatively new. It is an improvement over the past. This is a valued and precious practice to most of us who have lost an infant.

While I understand that some couples may not want to see a picture of their infant, many of us do. In our case, we had a semi-professional photographer who was a family friend come to the hospital and take additional photographs.

My daughter made up a baby book for Joseph and included the pictures and other mementos we had gathered.

I have enclosed a picture of my stillborn grandson, Joseph, a copy of which I keep in a silver frame on my desk. There is nothing repugnant about this picture to me.

I was reminded yesterday, while visiting the traveling Vietnam memorial wall, that almost the same number of infants are stillborn every year in this country alone. In a 10-year war, 58,000 men were lost. But every year, 33,000 to 40,000 babies are stillborn and most of these deaths are never explained. There is little if any research done and no one seems to care. Mothers are encouraged to forget it by being told it is an act of nature or “God’s will.”

In their grief, most families never demand answers. So the monumental loss of wanted, loved infants continues. The guilt mothers feel that it is somehow their fault continues, marriages break up and even grandparents grieve for years.

It has become my mission to educate the public about this tragedy so research money will be forthcoming and answers will be found. When we can see a baby suck his thumb in the womb and predict and even repair many defects and illnesses prior to birth, we should be able to prevent the majority of stillbirths.