An account of Naomi's short but important life. She was born at 25 weeks, when Susan unexpectedly went into labour. She lived for only a short time, but her memory lives on.

'Try not to worry.' The midwife tried to sound reassuring as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

'This doesn't necessarily mean you are going to have a miscarriage.'A miscarriage!At twenty five weeks into my pregnancy a miscarriage was certainly not what I was expecting.Yet here was my doctor explaining that my unwelcome stomach cramps were in fact labour pains, meaning I needed to get to hospital straight away. Swiftly I gathered a few belongings.In God's goodness Lois, who was two and a half, had only recently spent her first night away from us, in preparation for the birth. Down the path she skipped with my friend Wendy, without a backward glance, her little suitcase in hand, oblivious to the unfolding drama.

Despite the attempts of the hospital staff to suppress the labour, our tiny daughter, Naomi, was born that evening. Her statistics were not very encouraging; weighing no more than a bag of sugar and scoring only one out of a possible ten in the Apgar test, she didn't have a chance. Yet she was a perfectly formed, beautiful baby. We examined her closely, stroking her tiny limbs and noting the dimpled chin she shared with her father and sister Lois. 'Definitely one of us,' declared Peter with a poignant smile. The doctors warned us that Naomi was too weak to survive, even with all the medical technology available. She was not ours to keep, but we had been given the privilege of bringing her into the world and giving her a name. We cuddled and talked to her for twenty minutes. Then God called her Home.

Now we were faced not only with our own unexpected and searing grief, but the task of explaining death to Lois. As soon as we returned from the hospital Lois brought me the Mothercare catalogue so we could talk about babies, as we had done many times before. I had to explain that I didn't have a baby in my tummy any more, and that we were not going to have one in our house now. I didn't hold out to her any hope that one day we might have another baby. She had little concept of time, and I feared she would be continually asking me if I had another baby in my tummy yet.

The hospital had taken two precious photos of Naomi, and these were of great interest to Lois. When friends called round she would proudly show them her sister, but it is difficult to say how much she understood at that time. It wasn't easy to explain that her sister had been born yet was not in our home. I felt it was important to concentrate on one or two facts rather than going into lengthy explanations. We told her that Naomi had died, that she was living with Jesus now, that she would not be coming to our house, and – most importantly – that she was happy where she was. We didn't want Lois to imagine that Naomi was in continual pain now she was dead. We used the word 'died' as this is the only correct term, as well as being the one she would hear us use to other people. It can be a temptation to explain death in terms of a departed loved one turning into an angel or twinkling star in the night sky, but this is not the truth and may cause a child to question our integrity on other matters.

Naomi is very much part of our family. We have never tried to deny her existence and certainly do not view her as a failure. Her short life had a profound influence on us. If somebody asks Peter or me about our family, we will usually mention Naomi as well as talking about Lois and Nathan. September 3^rd will always be a special day for our family as we remember Naomi's birth and death. When Lois and Nathan were younger we combined the anniversary with a 'back-to-school treat' at the end of the summer holidays. A farm park was a popular destination, where baby animals could be fed, or a picnic on a beach we had not previously visited. The children knew it was a sad day for me and were quick with a cuddle if they saw a tear in my eye. They knew too why we had yellow roses and freesia in the home. Naomi's birthday provided an opportunity for them to learn about bereavement and compassion towards others.

Extract from the book 'Did God make those Bananas?' by Susan Richards.

Further details from www.susanrichards.org

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