Stillbirth – My Personal Journey of Loss, Silence, and Strength

Stillbirth is one of the most devastating experiences a parent can go through. Coping with baby loss brings unimaginable grief, but healing is possible when you have the right support. Here I share my stillbirth story and my son’s experience, along with guidance and compassion for parents grieving a stillborn baby.

My Own Experience

Losing a child is an unimaginable pain and one that changes your world forever. I share this part of my journey not for sympathy, but in the hope that it will help others feel less alone in their grief.

In April, over Easter Bank Holiday weekend, I gave birth at home to my stillborn baby after being repeatedly dismissed by medical professionals. Despite daily bleeding throughout my pregnancy and numerous hospital visits, I was told time and time again that everything was fine. I was hospitalised with infections, bedridden with constant complications, yet every concern I raised was minimised or ignored.

That Friday the 13th, Good Friday, I woke up for the first time in months without having bled through the night. I thought maybe things were turning a corner. But that morning, pain gripped my body, and I delivered my baby at home. What followed was a traumatic journey of silence, negligence, and a complete lack of accountability from the hospital.

We drove 45 minutes to the hospital that had discharged me only the day before, my husband, myself, and our three other children in tow. An autopsy was promised. Answers were assured. But instead, we faced delays, excuses, and ultimately, months of silence. The chaplain called weekly, baffled at the hold-ups. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said.

It wasn’t until July, three months later, that we were finally allowed to bury our child. They claimed they lost reports, denied us the autopsy findings, and even withheld the gender of our baby. I hadn’t looked when we wrapped the baby, and now, that opportunity was gone forever.

I believe the truth was hidden. Years later, my daughter, who was just one at the time, was diagnosed with a rare, life-threatening bleeding disorder that took four years to diagnose. I believe the findings in that report could have made all the difference to her diagnosis and care.

In the months after the loss, I grieved in silence. I would burst into uncontrollable tears, unable to explain the sudden waves of sorrow that overwhelmed me. There were no words, just heartbreak.

To this day, I wonder who our baby would have become. There will always be a space in our family that feels incomplete. A quiet presence is missed. A name never known. A love never forgotten.

My Son’s Loss

Recently, my son and his wife went through a devastating stillbirth at 32 weeks. After she felt sudden pain, doctors discovered her placenta had ruptured and their baby girl, Aliyanah, had tragically died.

Labour was induced, but during delivery, my daughter-in-law began to haemorrhage. At one point, it was touch and go; she required five bags of blood, clotting agents, and emergency procedures, including balloons and uterine packing. Thankfully, the medical team saved her life and her womb.

For around six days, Aliyanah stayed with them in the hospital. Once my daughter-in-law was clinically stable, they were moved into a family room where they could spend precious time together, creating memories and photos. The staff were compassionate and supportive, and although the experience was traumatic, the care they received made all the difference compared to my own story.

I never thought I would be writing about stillbirth again, especially not for my son. But I am grateful I could be there to support them through their loss.

Why I Share This

Stillbirth is not spoken about enough. Too often, parents are left to grieve without closure, space, or validation for the depth of their loss.

I share these stories, my own and my son’s, to shine a light on both the devastation and the different ways stillbirth can be handled. My son and his wife received compassion and space to grieve; my experience was the opposite. Both show how much the right support matters.

If you are going through something similar, please know: you are not alone. Your grief is valid. Your story matters.

🕊️ Your healing journey begins with being heard. If you feel ready, explore my free self-help guides or reach out for one-to-one support.