The smallest footprints leave the deepest impressions

I wrote this article on the same day 12 months before my nightmare began as my waters broke just 24 weeks into my pregnancy.

I instinctively knew it was a very bad situation for me and my baby, which was confirmed by the leaflets on ‘outcomes’ the midwives handed to me while I waited to be moved to a hospital that could cope with neo-natal emergencies.

Unfortunately for our family, our much longed for little boy was born at 25 weeks gestation and we had to say goodbye just 4 weeks later.

Planning a funeral for your dead baby is not something anyone ever conceives of having to be faced with. Luckily, we have had amazing support from family and friends, but also from professionals in the NHS and from a local Midlands charity called the Lily Mae Foundation.

Going to see Amy every fortnight for an hour at her Lily Mae offices was a lifesaver, quite literally. It gave me a purpose and a reason to leave the house when I was existing in a dark void, without hope, without joy, immersed in sorrow.

Amy offered 1:1 support to my husband too as she knows from personal experience that it’s not just the woman who suffers in pregnancy and neo-natal loss, but the father too, and the wider family.

But the focus of family and friends can often be on the mum as the woman who has had the physical ordeal, overlooking the tremendous loss felt by the father or partner.

My husband was made redundant a few weeks after Benjamin died. He had the misfortune to work for an employer who didn’t offer him any paternity leave as he had only worked there for a few months and in law, he wasn’t entitled to anything – not even unpaid time off. It’s a harsh discovery to make when you’re in the midst of a medical and emotional crisis.

At least for women, the picture is far better, and I’ve been blessed to work for an employer who has given me my full maternity leave and supported me with a phased return to work and been understanding about the challenges of being on the world’s worst maternity leave – one without a baby in my arms.

I’m writing this and sharing my story as I think baby loss is a difficult subject but one that touches so many people’s lives. It’s a sad reality that you will all know someone who has suffered a miscarriage or who has been through the ordeal of a stillbirth or neo-natal death.

Before this happened to me, my nephew had been stillborn 16 years ago, my cousin’s baby was extremely premature and died a few weeks later like my Benjamin, and family friends who had premature twins – one couple’s daughters died in just a few days, another couple we know lost their daughter but their son is now a healthy, happy 12 year old.

Everyone’s story is different, but if people can talk openly when they feel they want to, I think it makes us all stronger.

And in a work environment, being able to be open and feel supported during major life events because you know your employer cares, your line manager is supportive and your colleagues are there for you, can make all the difference to being able to return to a job you love, or not.

Finally, I’d like to show my support for the Lily Mae Foundation, a charity in Birmingham, UK.

As well as 1:1 bereavement support from a parent who has also been through baby loss, they offer family bereavement days in conjunction with the national bereavement charity Cruse.

I attended one with my husband just 2 months after Benjamin passed, and it was the single most positive and helpful thing we encountered during our early days of utter grief.

It was a chance to hear theories on the nature of grief, get some practical tips and to meet other parents and grandparents who had suffered the same devastation that we had.

The foundation was set up by Amy and Ryan Jackson after their daughter Lily Mae was stillborn in 2010. They felt that they didn’t get the expert support that they needed at that time and so were strong and courageous enough to start a charity that would fill that gap.

The Lily Mae Foundation raise money so that all the maternity hospitals in the West Midlands have beautiful memory boxes to provide to families if their baby dies or is stillborn.

They include moulds to take footprints and handprints, matching teddy bears so that your baby has one and you can keep its pair, and a beautiful illustrated book that has just the right words at a time when you’re at your lowest ebb.

We have our precious memory box and inside we have kept some of Benjamin’s tiny nappies, baby grows and knitted hats. We also have the book selected especially by the foundation, My Love Will Find You Wherever You Are, which we used as part of Ben’s funeral service.

I won’t end with something trite like stay strong or time’s a healer. It isn’t. Time moves on but your grief stays with you, becoming a part of who you are. Deep sorrow and grief from a tragic bereavement doesn’t diminish, you just learn to grow around it.