Blog – Parent Spotlight

Sophie generously shares her story of Ollie and connecting with research in his memory.

After 2 miscarriages, we thought that this pregnancy with Oliver was the one. Like many mums, I avoided specific foods and alcohol, went to every antenatal appointment, slept on my side. I withheld my excitement until we saw Ollie’s little fingers and toes on the monitor. Every scan onward was another sign of life’s mercy.

The doctors couldn’t describe how ‘normal’ baby movement would look or feel. As Ollie’s kicking and rolling became more pronounced, my heart would flutter with joy. When he reached 38 weeks, I joked that he was trying to kick his way out. What I didn’t know was that our time together was about to end.

It hurt that the doctors called it a ‘healthy’ pregnancy, yet we were leaving the hospital without our baby. It hurt that the post-mortem examination couldn’t tell us why he had died.

It’s unnatural and unfair to have to mourn the death of your child. What was meant to be a celebration of birth suddenly becomes an acknowledgement of a whole life unlived. Milestones that he would never reach. Memories that we’d never make.

The thing about grief is that it burrows deep into your soul and causes turbulence when you least expect it. But over time you learn how to lean into the various emotions and ride them out.

I promised Ollie that we would remember him in a positive light, and I went about creating moments to dilute the sadness. During our hospital stay, we borrowed a pram and spent time together in the hospital playground.

Back home, we developed rituals to feel closer to him. In the morning, we place a small babycino next to Ollie’s photo. My partner and I include him in conversations about our day and tell him stories about our extended family.

Frustrated by the lack of answers, I scoured the internet for every stillbirth resource that I could find. What I learned is that the medical field is still largely in the dark about how labour occurs, appropriate timing of birth, and stillbirth. Medicine and technology have come a long way, but have mostly been based on male physiology. Female bodies have been understudied to the point that pregnancy is still a medical mystery. There had to be something that we could do to prevent other families from experiencing this grief.

I then found the Stillbirth Centre for Research Excellence Research Involvement Registry and it was through this that I was connected with Fiona Brownfoot, whose team at Kali Healthcare is working on a wearable sensor to improve pregnancy monitoring. Their commitment to the problem and ability to see beyond current practices and technologies has given me confidence as a lived experience advocate.