Last autumn, my husband and I sat down with a lawyer to instruct him to open an investigation into May’s birth. The only cases I’ve heard of going through, and I do know personally of a couple, are ones where the hospital admitted fault from the very day it happened. The moment of wrongdoing was that obvious.
We can think all we want that the birth did go wrong; unless the lawyer can prove it, forget it. In our household, even with our beliefs that things did go wrong, an investigation will probably not uncover that one terrible moment. As if there is one moment, I believe there are several. But, cases like May’s are notoriously difficult to prove.
So, why do it?
I want a bit of peace. I want it over. I want to know something, anything about those days that I don’t know already that will tell me why my baby was hurt so badly. Not having an answer, or even an inkling, is hard. It is really hard. Indescribable.
Yesterday, I received our first letter from the lawyer about the investigations so far. How long did I stare at that thin envelope? How long did I stand in my hallway with Ieuan crying for me upstairs, as he waited for me to return?
Inside, the lawyer sent a copy of his letter to the hospital explaining that the records they sent him were incomplete. Where was the report regarding their investigations? Or, the results of that investigation? In that moment, on the stairs, I realized I’d never seen them either. There were other missing items as well; incomplete records from my personal hospital records and May’s.
But, what does this mean? Does it mean they are lying or incompetent? Evasive or just plain lazy? Perhaps it is nothing, an accident or oversight.
We will know more once those blanks are filled in. Months will pass before they are. Full investigations into May’s birth will take a long time. Maybe a year, or more. All the while: limbo.