Thea Helus had both the best and worst days of her life during a trip to Colorado.
Helus and husband, Gary, were on their “babymoon,” a vacation couples often take to spend time together before a baby’s birth, in Breckenridge. Thea was nearly six months pregnant when she began bleeding internally — she had no idea why — and was rushed to the University of Colorado Hospital in Aurora on Aug. 7, 2014.
Her son, Porter Gray Helus, didn’t survive.
His death was a case of perinatal loss, a term for infant deaths near the time of baby’s due date. Families whose babies died in the past few years at UCH came together at the hospital Saturday afternoon for a perinatal loss memorial service, a gathering that UCH has held for more than 25 years.
Porter’s name was read in honor during the service.
“People don’t talk about it,” Helus said. “There’s no way of telling when it’ll happen … The chances are 1 in 100.”
Including a wide range of complications — stillbirth, infections, genetic defects, prematurity and more — perinatal death causes are not always anticipated, and not always understood.
Doctors hadn’t spotted any warning signs for Helus.
“I had an ultrasound seven days before,” she said. “I had a placenta abruption … I was bleeding internally, which creates a lack of oxygen for the baby.
“I was told I had to deliver early,” said Helus, who underwent an emergency cesarean section. Doctors put the baby on oxygen and attempted to save him, but warned Helus it “didn’t look good.”
At that point, Aubrey Becker, a nurse for UCH’s neonatal intensive care unit, came in for her shift.
“I began transitioning them to another room so they could be with their baby,” Becker said. “He was a fighter, but he did all he could.”
Becker and fellow nurses did what is now common practice for UCH’s perinatal loss program.
“We (made) mementos — footprints and handprints and name cards (to give to the family),” Becker said. “I asked if I could get them anything … Just tried to give them support through that experience. We took pictures (of Porter) around 2 in the morning … We were trying to make the best out of the worst day of their lives.”
A perinatal death can tear a family apart, in Helus’ words — parents often experience depression, anxiety, anger and debilitating grief. UCH’s perinatal loss program stays with families as they transition through what is sometimes a years-long recovery process.
The memorial service is part of that effort and brings together families who have experienced perinatal deaths in recent years. For example, a family whose baby died eight years ago came to Saturday’s service to heal. That family knew Annette LeBel, a former nurse and one of the founders of the perinatal loss program, who was also attended.
In a small, softly-lit auditorium, nearly 50 people sat and listened to words from UCH chaplains, some with their heads cast down. Kleenex boxes lined the aisles and rested on the arms of chairs. As the babies’ names were read, a woman toward the back let out a sigh. A man put a handkerchief to his face.
Toward the end, the chaplains said a prayer and the families responded in unison — “We remember them” — after each line.
“As long as we live, they too shall live,” chaplains said.
The Heluses, who live in Mesa, Ariz., could not attend the service, but plan to come next year.
“(I remember) coming home and feeling so empty,” she said. “Itap a lot of trauma. Itap a lot of pain. You experience postpartum (depression) on top of grief.”
Some mothers, like Helus also feel guilt because they failed to safely deliver the baby.
“I just started praying about it, because I didn’t know what else to do with my feelings,” she said.
“(Eventually) I realized my baby was brought to me as a miracle, to teach (Gary and I) unconditional love,” Helus said. “I think that was his purpose.”
“Be gentle with yourself,” she urged those who struggle with grief. “The guilt can really consume you and take you to a dark place.”
Helus also recommended mothers to seek help — whether friends, family or support groups — to cope with feelings of isolation. She didn’t do that and instead grieved largely alone.
“I’m definitely stronger for the hell that I went through,” Helus said. “And I want to be a better person for him.
“I just want to make him proud.”
The Heluses light a candle for their son every night.
“He was a special little guy,” she said.
