Stillbirth: 'Leaving hospital empty-handed was the worst'

"It had been pretty seamless," she said.

"Then it all went wrong within a very short space of time."

Ms Lawrence, from Gartcosh in North Lanarkshire, has shared her experience of the sudden and life-threatening complications which led to the loss of her daughter in 2016 as the patient representative behind Edinburgh University's new study into rates of stillbirth and death among expectant mothers admitted to critical care.

She had woken up with lower back pain days after reaching the 37th week of her pregnancy and, suspecting she might be in the early stages of labour, took some paracetamol and went back to sleep.

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When she began vomiting non-stop a few hours later, the couple went to the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow where a scan revealed that their unborn baby had died.

"It was horrendous," said Ms Lawrence.

"I asked 'why has this happened?', but they didn't know.

"Hours later we realised it was a placental abruption - that the placenta had come away from the wall and there was severe internal bleeding happening - but they couldn't see that on the scan."

Tests revealed that Ms Lawrence's platelet count had plunged so low as a result of the internal haemorrhaging that medics feared if they delivered her baby she might bleed to death.

They delayed labour while performing multiple transfusions, but - despite being heavily sedated on morphine - Ms Lawrence can remember the moment her daughter was born and placed in a cold cot near her bedside.

"I recall hearing this almighty 'slap' against the floor and that was the blood coming out.

"I think it was about two litres that I lost, and in the course of the time that I was in hospital, I had nine transfusions.

"They thought I might need a hysterectomy or more serious surgery but thankfully I didn't.

"I was in hospital for almost a week and my baby was in a cold cot next to me, but it was a couple of days before I even got to hold her.

"I couldn't - my arms were so weak. The seriousness of what had happened didn't hit me for quite some time down the line."

Ms Lawrence was treated at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow

Ms Lawrence, a faculty manager at Strathclyde University, said it was only when she began to contemplate trying for a second baby around six months later that the trauma of the experience "kicked in".

Although she had telephone grief counselling from charity, Child Bereavement UK, and the couple were both supported by a clinical psychologist, this tended to focus on the loss of their daughter.

"Nobody really talked to me about what had happened to me, at the time," she said.

"It's a fine balance because obviously I was pretty out of it and having a conversation too soon around it all and future risks - you just don't have the headspace.

"But too late, that's where things like PTSD could easily kick in once you realise what happened."

Her psychologist advised the couple to piece together a timeline of events to help Ms Lawrence "fill in the blanks".

"That really helped me," she said.

'It is the trauma, but it's also the physical toll of what happened and the 'what next?'.' (Image: Gordon Terris/Herald&Times)

In 2017, Ms Lawrence fell pregnant again and gave birth to the couple's second daughter - now six - following an induced labour at 36 weeks.

As well as bringing joy, she says it also reignited her grief.

"Leaving that hospital with a baby compared to when I left the hospital before empty-handed, which is by far the worst moment of it all, I was also grieving massively.

"Because now I knew what I had lost."

She added that she considers herself "one of the lucky ones" because she survived intensive care, but fears that other women may not get the support they need in the aftermath.

Now 43, she said: "Physically, it took months to build me back up, and mentally I'd gone through the wringer.

"So it is the trauma, but it's also the physical toll of what happened and the 'what next?'.

"I'm not a wallower, and I'm so grateful I had the psychologist and the counselling, but I can imagine for others who are left - what is the longer-term impact if they do have another child and feel that new wave of grief?

"Or even if they're terrified to have another child because of what happened?

"There's so many unknowns about what the impact of some of this stuff is on individuals in terms of how the rest of their life plays out."