A new arrival to enhance our lives

In the last of her columns on a grieving pregnancy, Sharon Dempsey gives birth to a girl, whom she names according to her son's suggestion just before he died.

I had looked forward to giving birth. It would be the culmination of nine months of worry and I would be closer to meeting my third child.

I was induced three days after my due date. My previous pregnancies ran up to 13 days overdue and as this baby seemed big the obstetrician decided to go for an earlier induction rather than put me through a further week of waiting.

Nevertheless the baby didn't want to come out too soon. It took four hormone pessary gels over 48 hours to establish my labour. I had gas and air, pethidine and an epidural just for good measure.

The birthing process can be surreal. I had Liam supporting me, feeding me crushed ice on demand and comforting me. The medics reassured me that they would deliver my baby safely. The midwives were attentive and kind. They were all aware that I had lost my son and did everything they could to help me throughout. Yet I felt entirely alone. No one could go through the birth for me.

While giving birth is difficult, the pain is temporary and in time the memory of it will be erased. The trauma of losing my son Owen [who died of a brain tumour in 2004, aged six] is a constant. During the labour my defences were low and it was more difficult to cope with the reality that we had watched our son die.

Three weeks before Owen died, in a morphine-enhanced mood for holding court and telling stories, he began to tell my mum that a new baby was coming to our family. My mum called Liam and I into the bedroom to hear the news that Owen had to tell.

I laughed and told Owen there was no room in our house for a new baby and besides we wouldn't know what to call it.

He thought for a second and proclaimed it could sleep with Daddy (there was no way he would share me at night time) and that the baby would be a girl called Fiona.

I asked him where he got the name Fiona from and he said "like Princess Fiona in Shrek".

We had no notion of having a third child at that stage. Owen required our full care and attention. If he had been well we knew that a third child would have been lovely but we did not have that option.

When Owen died, his idea of another baby surfaced from time to time. It seemed daunting to embark on parenthood again, especially since we were so bereft without Owen. But the thought of another child at some stage was nice.

Our daughter Kate desperately wanted another sibling. While we were concerned that outsiders might feel that we were seeking to replace Owen, we knew in our own minds that such a notion was just ridiculous.

We felt that Owen had given us permission. That he had wanted another baby in our family.

Sarah Fiona was born on July 15th after a difficult labour. She was named in memory of her brother: Sarah means Princess. We have already started to tell her of her older brother Owen. When we left the hospital, the day after she was born, we drove straight to Owen's graveyard. At the grave we told Owen that Princess Fiona had arrived to see his flowers.

Sarah has already enhanced our lives. The pain of losing Owen, like the love we feel for him, can never diminish. We have to learn to carry the pain with us, for it to be a part of our lives that co-exists with the highs and lows.

Sarah will grow up knowing she has a brother as well as a sister. We love to talk about Owen and who better to recount the stories of his life to than his little sister.

We know he would share in Kate's joy in watching Sarah grow. Like most events in our lives now, we are eager to relate them to Owen, to feel that he is still a part of everything that goes on.

It feels that he has had a say in Sarah's arrival. He enabled us to make the difficult decision to add to our family and he has named her. We know he would be a protective big brother but sadly Owen will watch over Sarah from afar.