COMING around with a jolt, I remembered I was in hospital, having my baby. But the room was dark and I was alone. Panic engulfed me, but before I could call for help, I lost consciousness again.
The next time I opened my eyes, I flicked on the light next to me and froze in horror. The bed was soaked with blood and lying between my legs was my baby – a girl.
Emily Brazier and partner Rhodri with baby Liliwen, who took her final breath in her daddy’s arms after just 20 hoursCredit: Supplied by Emily Brazier
Rhodri and Emily pregnant with LiliwenCredit: Supplied by Emily Brazier
Terrified, I screamed for help. I barely realised what was happening as a midwife scooped up my baby and doctors wheeled my bed out into the corridor.
“Is my baby alive?” I managed to ask, but nobody replied.
In January 2022, my partner Rhodri, 41, and I found out I was pregnant. We already had a daughter, Carys, then two, and couldn’t wait for another child.
I was advised that if I didn’t go into labour before my due date, I should have an induction, as I had low associated plasma protein-A (PAPP-A), which can cause complications, including the placenta stopping working.
On October 8, 2022, when I was 40+1 weeks pregnant, I went into The University Hospital of Wales, , for my . The following evening, the early stages of labour began and Rhodri was sent home, as partners weren’t allowed to stay overnight unless the woman was in active labour.
However, soon my contractions were coming more quickly and I was in agony. I asked for both and pethidine and, after a midwife did checks on the baby, I was given both.
I messaged Rhodri that he’d soon be called back in. But after the drugs were administered, I found myself completely alone on a ward with four other patients and a curtain pulled around my bed.
In unbearable pain, I took in so much gas and air that I lost consciousness.
When I came around, the were so severe that I reached for more pain relief. I was stuck in a vicious circle, and there was nobody to help. Twice, I was vaguely aware of a midwife popping her head around the curtain. But I was too spaced-out to understand her. Instead, I put my thumb up, before passing out again.
The next time I came to, the lights had been switched off and the gas and air wasn’t working. And when I lifted the bedsheet, I realised I’d given birth. I didn’t know if my baby was breathing and I tried to cry for help. But I could only whimper.
Somehow, the alarm was raised and my baby was whisked away. After I was stitched up, I was wheeled back to the ward around 3am. Rhodri arrived and asked if he’d missed the birth. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been told anything. I sobbed, saying I didn’t know where she was.
At 6am, a neonatal doctor came over to us and said: “Your baby daughter is alive, but is on life support.”
It was a glimmer of hope. I was still too ill to leave the ward, but Rhodri went to our daughter’s bedside and took a photo. We named her Liliwen.
However, as the hours passed, it became clear she was fading fast. I managed to see her for the first time, and we sobbed as we agreed the kindest thing was to withdraw her life support. Family and friends came to say goodbye.
With her wires and tubes removed, Liliwen looked so peaceful – she was the double of her sister. My heart broke that they would never meet.
On October 10 at 10.40pm, Liliwen, aged 20 hours, took her final breath in her daddy’s arms. I couldn’t believe she was gone.
The neonatal team were very kind, helping us make hand and footprints, and cutting off a lock of her beautiful dark hair. They supported us with the cremation, too.
Hospital records show nobody checked on me for an hour.
From a hospital investigation, we found out that rules on the maternity unit were changed that same day, allowing partners 24-hour visiting.
Further changes were later implemented, meaning that bed curtains must be kept open for patients on pethidine, patients on gas and air must receive one-to-one monitoring, and doses must be lowered and monitored.
But all of that came too late to save Liliwen. Afterwards, I struggled terribly with flashbacks and trauma. My sister-in-law gave birth to a baby girl, and I couldn’t visit because I wanted Liliwen to be the last baby girl I ever held. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being replaced in any way.
My grief became all-consuming. It took so much strength to make a complaint. We instructed solicitors Slater And Gordon to act on our behalf.
Emily and Rhodri with kids Ellis and CarysCredit: Supplied by Emily Brazier
Hospital records show nobody checked on me for an hour, during which time I gave birth to Liliwen as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
During an external review, the maternity unit admitted I’d almost bled to death after the birth. Yet I didn’t feel lucky to be alive. I wished I was with my baby girl, and I became suicidal.
I’d been training as a nurse, but had to change career to a healthcare assistant, as I couldn’t cope with being in a hospital.
Early in 2024, I became pregnant again. We didn’t dare look ahead, not believing we’d bring a baby home. At 38 weeks, I had a planned caesarean, and the birth couldn’t have been more different. Rhodri was there and the atmosphere was calm.
When Ellis was placed in my arms, I wept with relief. As he turned his head, I had a flashback to Liliwen and I cried for her, too.
Carys, now five, and Ellis, 11 months, are both happy and healthy. My own is improving, but I worry constantly about Ellis.
There will always be a hole in our family.
Now, we’re campaigning for National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guidelines to explicitly stipulate one-to-one care for all women receiving gas and air in labour.
We’d also like medical complaints in hospitals in Wales to be investigated by external teams. I’d hate for another family to go through our pain.
In July this year, an inquest ruled Liliwen died from a hypoxic brain injury following an unattended delivery. Cardiff And Vale University Health Board admitted liability for their role.
Coroner Rachel Knight said the case was “nothing short of a tragedy” and it was clear that it had a “seismic impact on maternity care” at the health board. She said she would prepare a report on the prevention of future deaths, as she remained concerned that NICE guidelines on labour induction were “not sufficiently explicit”.
We will continue to campaign in Liliwen’s name and are also raising funds for The Rainbow Clinic in Cardiff, which has given us wonderful support.
Losing our child, so needlessly and avoidably, will live with us forever. I am haunted by the memory of lifting the sheet in the darkness and realising my baby was lying lifeless underneath, and I still feel unbelievable guilt about her life-support machine being switched off.
There will always be a hole in our family. At every big occasion, on every special date, I wonder how Liliwen would look and how she’d be. But Ellis is helping us to smile again, and his sister will never be forgotten.
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'Immediate changes were made'
ABIGAIL Holmes, director of midwifery and neonatal services at Cardiff And Vale University Health Board said: “This is a profoundly sad case. Our thoughts and heartfelt condolences are with Liliwen’s parents and family, and we apologise unreservedly for their loss.
“The tragic loss of Liliwen has had a far-reaching impact felt across the whole of maternity and neonatal services and prompted a significant review of service provision. Immediate changes were made, which are now embedded in both midwifery and obstetric practice.”
