Baby Loss Awareness Week – Remembering Our Little Ones

Each year, Baby Loss Awareness Week gives families across the world the chance to come together, share their stories, and remember the precious babies who left us far too soon.

For me, this week is deeply personal. Back in 2016 and 2017, I experienced three early miscarriages. They were devastating losses — ones that shaped me as a mum and as a person. At the time, I clung to the thought that they were boys and gave one the name Alfie James, because even though I never held them in my arms, I wanted them to have an identity, to be real and acknowledged.

Talking about baby loss can feel impossibly hard, but I believe that every baby deserves to be remembered, and every parent deserves the chance to share their story. That’s why I want to use my space here not only to share my own experience but also to give voice to other mums who have kindly trusted me with their words.

💬 If you’ve also experienced loss, you’re welcome to share your baby’s name or your own story in the comments at the bottom of this post. All names will be lovingly added to a Memory Tree, which I’ll be sharing during the Wave of Light.

My Story

During 2016 & 2017, I sadly suffered 3 early miscarriages whilst trying to grow our family. Each pregnancy ended with being missed miscarriages whereby my body did not show any signs of loss.

Before learning about our first miscarriage Matt and I were excited to learn we were expecting our second child, sharing the news with family, and planning for the future. It wasn’t until we went to our 12-week scan that we heard the words “I’m sorry there is no heartbeat”.

It felt like our whole world had come crashing down, it just didn’t seem real, the baby had died at 8 weeks. The days after seemed liked a blur coming to terms with the fact that I was carrying a baby who had gone and thinking my body had failed me. How did it not know something was wrong and how could it let me carry on for weeks after that everything was fine. Now I've had time to grieve I look at it as though my body loved the baby so much that it refused to accept it had gone. I’ve always said that until you go through a miscarriage you can never understand the emotional rollercoaster you go through. But it is something you wouldn’t wish on anyone just so they could. I’ve always been so open with our journey to get our rainbow Harriett (who is now 7 years old) and it was then I discovered how many others, even those close to me had been through the same thing. It is and has always been such a taboo subject, which it shouldn’t be.

The heartache didn't end there

We knew we still wanted to keep trying hoping wishing that next time all would be ok. Soon after we fell pregnant again, filled with nerves we decided to go for a private scan at 8 weeks because this is where everything went wrong the first time. Watching the sonographer’s screen I was impatiently waiting to hear that little heartbeat. Sadly, there was no heartbeat. In fact there was no baby at all, we had experience a Blighted Ovum. A blighted ovum, also known as an anembryonic pregnancy, occurs when an early embryo never develops or is resorbed and leaves an empty sac. The cause of this is often unknown but may be due to chromosomal abnormalities. Because we were at a private clinic, we were advised we needed to go to the Early Pregnancy Unit in the morning to have it confirmed. There was a chance the pregnancy wasn’t as far along as we thought but due to the measurements of the sac the sonographer was doubtful this was the reason for no baby.

The next morning it was confirmed, we had had another missed miscarriage. I don’t really remember how it made me feel. I know I screamed in the car all the way home from the clinic.

In the UK, for women to get answers for their multiple miscarriages they need to experience 3 consecutive losses before they can have tests to find out what is happening. The idea that it can happen again without any help was sole destroying.

But we continued trying and shortly after falling pregnant again. We decided to trust that this was our time and not tempt fate and decided not to go for any early scans, we would just wait for 12 weeks. Sadly, the day before our scan I began to bleed heavily, I knew this was a bad sign. We went to the EPU and discussed our history. I remember as we discussed that we had experienced a blighted ovum that she said "Well lightning doesn’t strike twice so we won’t see that again". I think when she saw that empty sac, she wanted to immediately take back her words.  Yes in fact lightning had struck twice and there was a big space in the sac where our baby was meant to be.

👉 Have you experienced early loss? If you feel comfortable, please share your baby’s name in the comments below — it would mean so much to honour them on the Memory Tree.

Joy's Story

*“I only discovered I was pregnant when it was too late. Would would have been a couple of months into the pregnancy, I began experiencing incredibly painful cramps and nausea, but I didn't understand what was happening. To be completely honest, I have no clear recollection of losing my baby - I feel like my body has blocked it from my memory as a way to protect me, but I know it happened because I lived it, and I live with the aftermath every day.

I'm heartbroken still after two years, because I would have loved the opportunity to be a mum, whether as a single parent or not. I know my family would have been the most supportive network, and my mum would have been the most wonderful nan I could ask for.

For a long time, I carried guilt, feeling responsible for my angel baby's death. I was in my final year at university - a time of incredible stress - and I wondered if somehow my stress caused this loss. I didn't tell anyone for months, apart from the father, who offered no support. When I finally told my mum, she became my greatest source of strength.

Two years on, I still struggle. I find it hard seeing baby clothes in shops, knowing I once would have had that joy to look forward to. I never got the chance to find out if my baby was a boy or girl, but I feel in my bones that I am grieving for a girl - my little Lily.

My mum was and continues to be my biggest source of help and comfort; her unwavering support means everything to me. One thing that brought me particular comfort was being able to request a baby loss certificate. Even though I had nothing physical of my baby to keep, having that certificate felt like official acknowledgement that she existed. It validated my grief and gave me something tangible to honour her memory.

I'd want people to understand that early pregnancy loss is still the loss of a child, of dreams, of a future you'd already begun to imagine. The grief is real and lasting, even when others might not understand the depth of it. Most importantly, I want people to understand that our babies existed, they mattered, and they deserve to be remembered and honoured, no matter how brief their time with us was. Lily will always be my daughter, and that love doesn't diminish with time.”*

👉 If you’d like your baby’s name to be remembered alongside Lily’s, please share it in the comments.

Melissa's Story

*“I fell pregnant after a year or so of trying. I felt anxious from the very beginning. I had light bleeding at 5 weeks but the scan said it was all fine. I had the tiniest spot of bleeding at 8 weeks and ignored it but was convinced to go for a scan. I was sure it would all be fine because the 5 week bleeding was worse.

The sonographer started the scan by saying, ‘there’s baby’ and then silence, before saying, ‘there’s no heartbeat.’

It was Easter weekend and they suggested we take the weekend to work out what we wanted to do as I was having a missed miscarriage. I chose medication because I couldn’t just wait. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, emotionally and physically.

When we eventually did get pregnant again I feared every scan. I asked immediately to hear the heartbeat.

What helped me most was telling people. I was honest from the start. I had two weeks at home to recover and when I came back to work I told everyone. I needed it to be normal. Just one of those things. And the more people I told, the more people I found had gone through the same thing. And I knew it wasn’t because I was overweight, or because I had a cup of coffee. I needed that.

It’s nothing you’ve done. You couldn’t have prevented it. It’s not you. And it still sucks. Talk to people if you can.”*

👉 If you relate to this story, please feel free to share your own experience in the comments below.

Each story is unique, but the love and grief they carry are universal. Whether your baby lived for weeks, months, or years, they left a mark on your heart that will never fade.

During Baby Loss Awareness Week, and especially on October 15th for the Wave of Light, we come together to remember all of these precious babies.

If you would like your baby’s name to be included on my Memory Tree, please share it in the comments below. On the evening of the Wave of Light, I will share the tree so we can all see and remember together.

Our babies existed. They mattered. And they will never be forgotten. 💜