Patti’s Story
I’m Patti Walker, and I am a Registered Nurse and the Perinatal Bereavement Coordinator for the Edmonton Zone. I have been working in a variety of roles to support individuals and families who are grieving the loss of their baby for over 30 years. I became involved with Tiny Footprints in 2021, when the organization expanded to Edmonton. It felt like a natural fit to become involved with this wonderful, supportive organization as another way to honour all these families. Although the cause is meaningful to me on a professional level, it is close to my heart on a personal level, too.
My husband Cam and I were married June 11, 1988, and waited until 1992 to try to conceive. We were pregnant with Ernie in just a couple of months. (Ernie was not the name we had chosen, but this nickname is who he/she is). I went for my ultrasound at 15 weeks. We brought my 11-year-old stepdaughter Suzanne to create a bonding experience for everyone. I was told there was no heartbeat. We were devastated, and poor Suzanne was so confused.
After some time, we chose to risk trying to conceive again. Again, it did not take long to conceive and we were happily expecting Perry. (Again, not the name we had chosen, but a beautiful, quirky nickname.) We were due in December 1993.
On October 2, I woke up several times in the early morning thinking Perry was kicking me in the bladder and got up to go to the bathroom. About 6:00 am it became light enough outside to realize that I was bleeding. In a whirlwind, we were calling someone to come watch Suzanne and we were racing to the hospital. I was 30 weeks, 5 days.
Upon arrival, it became a whirlwind of activity and I was sent to the OR for an emergency C-section. Staff came in and asked if I was Mrs.____ and if I was the abruption. My nurse said, “No, this is Mrs. Walker. She is not the abruption but she is going first.” If I was bumping an abruption, I knew that things were bad.
I woke up in the recovery room, asking where my baby was. My kind doctor came over and told me I had a big, beautiful boy, but he did not make it. I can’t imagine what Cam was going through as I was in the OR. I have the telephone bill of that day to document the time Cam called our families in Calgary to tell them I had gone into surgery, and then to call them back to give them the news that Perry was stillborn.
Our lives were forever changed. Recovering in the hospital, I was seen by a social worker that told me about a support group called ParentCare. My reaction was, “Why would I need a support group? I’m a Public Health Nurse. I’ve run many groups and I have visited many families in the community with losses. I can do this.” Boy, was I wrong.
I thought I would return to work in November—I had to recover from major surgery. November came around and I was still submerged in isolation. I decided to return in January. New year, new start. Returning was extremely difficult as I worked with newborns. I managed to put on the professional face (maybe not always successfully), then would retreat to my office and fall apart.
In mid-January, I called one of the volunteers for ParentCare. One of the first things she asked was my baby’s name. Nothing sounded more beautiful than to say his name to a complete stranger who obviously cared.
She also said, “It’s been three months. That’s not very long—how are you doing?” She truly wanted to know how I was doing, and she acknowledged that at three months it was okay to still be missing my son. I have now learned that even after almost 30 years, it is okay to still be missing him.
Reluctantly, Cam and I attended our first meeting the following month. We were welcomed with open arms. Cam always said he would attend “for me,” yet I know he also learned many things from other people, one being that his wife was normal in her grief, it was okay for him to grieve as well, and he did not have to fix me.
We learned that ParentCare was started in 1988 by Claire Lefebvre and Lilias Gillespie, two nurses from the Misericordia Hospital and two families who had lost babies. It started because there was no other place for families to share their stories. The tagline is “Parents Helping Parents,” and that could not be more true. Because of the work and feedback from ParentCare’s early days, many changes were implemented in our local hospitals that are still practiced today.
In the following meetings, I learned that it was okay to grieve and to remember my boys in my way. It was okay to be scared to death about attempting another pregnancy. Sometimes my feelings really sucked, but they were mine and they were real. Here, I was not the woman who had lost two babies. I was a mom who did not have her babies with her, but continues to have a relationship with them. The meetings gave me permission to be proud of them.
With support, we decided to try again to add to our family. I attended meetings attempting (unsuccessfully, I was told later) to hide my pregnancy. I did not want to upset anyone, but I needed to be there. On May 4, 1995, my beautiful daughter Anastasia was born. Both Lilias and Claire were there to support me during her delivery. In the early months, ParentCare was the only time I left Ana alone so I could attend meetings, as I still was mourning Ernie and Perry.
Both Suzanne and Ana knew how important ParentCare was for me. In 1998, I began facilitating the meetings. I would often get phone calls at home from newly bereaved parents and both my girls knew that I was unavailable. Both helped with the candlelight service held every December. Ana has often been a big part of the Annual May Memorial held by the Alberta Health Services and Covenant Health Pregnancy and Infant Loss program that I now coordinate.
In June 2000, we went on a family vacation to Disney World. Suzanne had just finished her first year of nursing, and Ana was just completing playschool. I had it in my head that this would be our last family vacation as we were launching one daughter into secondary education and another into school. I did not know how correct I would be about it being our last family vacation.
Tragically, Suzanne was struck as a pedestrian and killed instantly after we had only been there 27 hours. Again our world was shattered. Many of my friends from ParentCare attended Suzanne’s funeral, and for that I am forever grateful. They did not have to say much. They just were there to support.
I now facilitate ParentCare with Claire Lefebvre, Marla Hennig and Erin Burton. For us, it is a way to remember our children and possibly give hope to others that life will continue, just in a different way from what we dreamed. ParentCare makes it okay to know the beautiful gifts our babies are. They are wanted, they are missed and they continue to be loved. Because of all of my children, I now support families at the time of their loss and for weeks, months, and even years after.
ParentCare meets on the third Thursday of every month. It is a confidential safe group for anyone who has lost a baby under any circumstances. We also have a closed Facebook group and a large lending library of books that have often been donated in memory of precious babies.
We share, we cry (we ALWAYS have the good Kleenex), and sometimes we even laugh. We talk about upcoming memorial events. We collect teddy bears to donate to the hospitals to give to newly bereaved parents. And we have a beautiful candlelight service in December, where past members often join us and share in the bond of remembering our babies.
I personally do not believe “things happen for a reason,” but I think you can learn from life experiences. I have met some wonderful people via this crappy club—our paths may not have crossed if we had not been part of the same community of losing our children. I think it is a “gift” from my children. But I would give all the friendships and experiences back if I could have my children back.
