This week has been Baby Loss Awareness week, culminating in a “wave of light” at 7pm on 15th October.


For the immediate family, grandparents and extended family, although time moves on, the pain of the huge loss of a much wanted addition to the family doesn’t ever lessen and sometimes, when you least expect it, the tears of sadness come in an unstoppable flow.


In April 2012 when our daughter-in-law went into natural labour at full term. We were all so excited for them but suddenly everything changed.


I will never ever forget the phone call from our son who called to say that suddenly and at full term, the medical staff couldn’t find the heartbeat that had been beating so strongly only hours before. They were “blue-lighting” his wife to the hospital. I was taking care of their 3 year old daughter at the time, anticipating what we thought would be a wonderful event - the arrival of her little brother. I prayed so very hard but when the phone call came to say he hadn’t made it, I dropped to the floor. It has to be the biggest and worst shock of my life. One moment excited plans were being made for little Peanut who was arriving soon and then the next moment all our worlds fell apart and have never been quite the same since because one of us is missing.


There are no words to describe the grief that follows the loss of a child - our son and daughter-in-law were in terrible shock - broken - and from a parent’s point of view, there was nothing, absolutely nothing we could do to make it right. That’s what parents do, isn’t it? Make things right for your child , however old they are, we want to help to make life a joyful experience for them. There is no Joy to be had in a delivery room after a stillbirth. The silence is deafening. Even the staff found it hard to hold it together which somehow helped because we knew that their beautiful child meant something to them too. That was important for our son and daughter-in-law.


How could I even think of telling my 3 year old granddaughter what had happened? I put on the bravest face I could for about 3 days but every so often I had to “just pop along to my neighbour” leaving her with her Grandfather because I knew I was about to fall apart. They were wonderful and when I collapsed onto the floor, they just got down on the floor with me and held me until I stopped crying. And they did it more than once. They are grandparents themselves and each time they cried with me.


The grief felt three-fold - I was grieving the loss of my grandson, grieving what felt like the loss of my own son and daughter-in-law because I couldn’t take their pain away and grieving what felt like the loss of my granddaughter, who I was used to spending so much time with but suddenly everything had changed. Quite rightly, their little family needed to huddle together and shut out the world, coming to terms with their tragic loss. The days went by in an inconsolable haze.


Thanks to the work of the Sands Charity, our son and daughter-in-law could spend time in the special unit at Pembury Hospital. Precious time to talk to their son Benedict, play him their favourite music and tell him about his ancestors and as grandparents we were allowed to visit and hold him too. It was really important for me to sing to him. I always sang his Daddy to sleep - if only I could sing his child to “wake”. I remember holding my son as he held his own son and meaning it with all my heart when I said “I wish I could go in his place”.


I asked Benedict to let us know when he was around, to give us a sign such as a noisy bird. “But not a Magpie” I remember saying because my husband never liked Magpies. Suddenly he made me smile because I experienced the most intense knowing that that would be the exact bird he would choose to remind us of him. They are noisy and cheeky - just how I imagined our grandson would have been. We see Magpies often now and our granddaughter always says “Thank you Peanut” when she sees one. He will always be with us, we talk about him a lot but she learned the pain of grief at a really young age and has dealt courageously with it.


I have written this account of our experience three years on because I really don’t think I could have written it before. Even now, I write this through tears. But I want people to know how important the work of the Sands Charity is in supporting families through such a tragic time. It is unacceptable that in this day and age 100 babies a week die at birth or shortly afterwards in the UK.


Now Benedict has a beautiful little sister who has brought all of us so much joy. Pregnancy must have been such a nerve-wracking time for our son and daughter-in-law and this time, understandably, they didn't let us know she was in labour. And this time we received a joyful phone call in the early hours. Our youngest granddaughter is quite a tomboy, always up to mischief and sometimes, just sometimes, she has a cheeky look on her face that gives me an insight into what Benedict’s face would have been like at 18 months old.


Despite all the sadness, Benedict has really taught me what absolute, unconditional love is. He was born perfect but born sleeping in the arms of Angels. As I held him in my arms, the love I felt and still feel for him is not something I can describe, only to say perhaps, that this is the kind of love God feels for us all. We don’t have to earn love..........we ARE love!


A few years on, we have another addition to the family - a material addition this time, in the form of a little holiday house on the coast - a place where we hope our grandchildren can have lots of fun. And guess what - every time we visit, our little house is surrounded by playful Magpies so I guess our little grandson approves. Thank you Peanut! We love you with all our hearts.