A mother SHAREs her grief

The Boston Herald

BEVERLY BECKHAM

Nothing had prepared her for this. Jennifer Johnstone was a healthy 26-year-old, 35 weeks pregnant with her second child, a girl, whom she and her husband Scott had already named Madison. She had ultrasound pictures of Madison too. One showed her so tiny that it was difficult to see her as anything but an outline. In another, Jennifer could almost see her daughter's smile.

"This is your baby sister," she'd tell Cameron, now age 3. "Do you want to feel her kick?" she'd ask, taking his hand and guiding it with her own.

Madison had her own room in their new house, her name in bright letters hanging on the door. She had drawers full of clothes and books and stuffed animals. She had a family eager for her to be born.

Jennifer felt Madison move for the last time one year ago today. She was beginning labor. "They were going to admit me, but they decided to send me home." All day, the baby seemed to move less and less. That night, Johnstone slept. The next morning, she knew something was wrong. A nurse took the baby's heartbeat. "That's my heartbeat," Johnstone said, insisting on an ultrasound. And in the room where Madison's heart had beat loud and strong every time before, there was only "this awful silence."

It took 24 hours for Madison to be delivered. "My mom stayed through the whole labor. The hospital took Madison's picture and put together this memory box with the blanket they wrapped her in and her footprints and handprints. I told them I didn't want any of it. And I didn't. But then the night before we buried her, I suddenly needed it. It was 10 o'clock and I drove over and they gave it to me."

A school nurse, she didn't go out much last winter. "Then in the spring when I did people would see me and say, 'Where's Madison'?" On the Internet, she discovered SHARE, a nonprofit, nondenominational support group that serves those who have lost a child through miscarriage, stillbirth or newborn death. She found comfort and understanding within that group. "I was just so lonely. I welcomed every call, every 'I've been through it and I'm sorry.' They helped me so much through this year. It's been tough. Cameron asked just the other day, 'Why did I never get to play with my sister, Madison? Is she in heaven? Is she with Coco (a neighbor's dog)?' He was only 2 when this happened. It's amazing how little kids remember things."

Six months after Madison died, Johnstone felt that it was time for her to help someone else. She told her doctor, "I need to be called if someone needs me." Her phone has been ringing ever since. On Oct. 5 she is hosting "A Walk to Remember" some of the babies the world never knew, babies like Madison who were loved and who had their name on a bedroom door.

She has bad days still. But SHARE has helped her heal and this walk is a way of helping others. "It's not about the money. It's about the people. I have the names of 52 babies. We're putting these names on the back of T-shirts and we're going to release a balloon in memory of every one of them. It's important for these women to do this. It's important for me. One woman, whose son was a stillborn, calls me at least once a week and says, 'There are days I can't take it anymore.' Her son was born last March and people think she should be over it by now. I have bad days, still. So I know how she feels."

Madison Rose Johnstone is buried in the Garden of Angels in Milton Cemetery. Her brother likes to visit her there because it's pretty at her grave and there's a pond and he gets to feed the ducks.