Dealing with loss and why our industry should ‘Make Brave Happen’

Howard Titley, Global Strategy Partner

I used to use the word “just” as a prefix when answering a simple question. It’s neither an invasive question nor an uncommon one. In fact, it’s an innocent question that can be a signal of interest. It’s often a question asked when you meet someone new. Or perhaps it is just another question used when you’re going through the motions. Either way it’s a short question: “how many children do you have?” my response was “just” the one.

Six simple words that I’d never given a moment’s thought to. I’m sure I’ve even asked this question myself in the past. But it’s in the past that it remains. Context changed that. Forever.

My wife and I gave birth to two children: actually, that’s a ludicrous statement. My wife gave birth and I merely tried as hard as I bloody could to remain standing upright offering words of praise and encouragement as well as bodily parts to be squeezed or punched; perhaps even both. The first time was “easy”. I remained upright. My hand was squeezed to within an inch of its uselessness. However, I was a bit like a rabbit caught in headlights; frightened and unable to think and react properly.

The second time around I was merely present. I was shell-shocked. Angry. Concerned. Upset. Afraid. Confused. Scared. Vacant. But above all I wondered want I’d done and why us? I recognise that last part is selfish.

Our first daughter arrived into this world in April 2006. She’s already “grunting” at me and I realised “dad” doesn’t mean a male acting in a paternal capacity but means embarrassment. Not just any old embarrassment mind you. An embarrassment who will also fetch and carry and well as hand over money and love. The latter is easy; I just need to remember not to physically demonstrate any level of love in front of her friends. Embarrassment can be a bit of a vicious circle. I know the “grunt”, or “Kevin” as its christened across the UK by many a parent, is just a phase. I try to remember that grunting and sighs of “oh dad” are outcomes of early adolescence. I’m learning, I’ll get there; I hope.

Our second daughter arrived and left on the same day back in November 2008. My wife was full-term and I was prepared. I wouldn’t be as frightened or surprised this time around. I was even ready to be squeezed or punched again. Hell, I was a pro I’d “been there done that” and this time around I was even planning to remove my wedding ring to reduce the pain from the inevitable squeeze. And then the bottom fell out of our world. Naively, I thought we’d avoided any complication. I was wrong. My wife gave birth to a full-term stillborn child and our second daughter.

You might be wondering what’s my point; why did I feel it was important to not only write this but then ask for it to be published? After all, I’m no different and many of you will have unfortunately experienced loss or a life-changing event along the way. I’m not an industry figurehead and for those that I’ve work with over the years or those that know me you’ll know I’m a private person so you will be surprised, perhaps even shocked if you’ve read this far. Probably both.

We grieved. We still do, although perhaps it’s less obvious to most. But even when two people are grieving the same loss the way in which we grieve is different. One partner might be vocal about their feelings while another quietly internalises. One partner might be visibly upset whilst the other finds comfort in keeping busy hoping that the spinning will keep him or her sane. There’s no right, or wrong but there are times when we have needed to be selfish and focus solely on our self and not each other. Sometimes survival requires us to shut down as well as out. It’s a defence mechanism but not a sign of detachment from each other. But to take care of us, the couple, we needed to take care of us, the individual and I could have done a better job at that. I’ve pulled my wife down a bit and I know at times, particularly when she is having a good day, she resents me for that and I feel massively guilty for doing it. The truth is, I concentrated on “rescuing” her but forgotten that I also needed to be ‘rescued.’ I’ve only just realised that.

The truth is I’ve struggled. Struggled to work out how to move forward. Struggled to accept. Losing a child is the hardest thing a couple can go through. I believe it is the most harrowing circumstances imaginable and it’s no secret that many marriages end as a result. I’m still the same person, but then at the same time not. So, here’s my ask, my pitch if you like, and just like the beginning it starts with a simple question. It even has fewer words, three to be precise: “How are you?”

We work in a wonderful industry. Of course, there are ups and downs. That’s normal. It’s a competitive industry, sometimes brutally so. It’s industry that’s both inventive and reinventive. But it’s also an industry that is often more focussed on what it generates rather than the people who generate it. That’s true of many an industry. But it doesn’t need to be.

I have absolutely no intention of making this about my agency. This is not about allowing the competitive head to rear. I wasn’t even employed here when that unimaginable day became a reality. That said, to this day I remain flabbergasted that I mentioned most of this in my first interview with my boss. I know why I did. As I’m sure he does to. Let’s just call it amazing people skills. Skills that I hope during my time of working with him have rubbed off on to me a little. I think it has. But I will keep working to make sure it does. The challenge is to try and make sure such skills rub off across all our employees and not just the lucky few.

To help we’ve written an agency manifesto, not just a motivational poster. What it isn’t about is jumping out of plane, diving with sharks or bungee jumping over a lake full of hungry crocodiles. It’s neither reckless nor blind. Instead it is about those first steps into the unknown embracing all outcomes, expected or not. It’s about speaking up against things that we believe to be wrong. Its individual yet collective. It’s about doing the right thing not just easy thing. But for me the most important part is that it’s about supporting a colleague or pushing yourself. It’s what we aspire to do every single day and we’ve named it “Make Brave Happen”.

Baby Loss Awareness Week runs from 9–15 October

This piece was originally published in Campaign.