Pregnancy and parenthood after baby loss doesn't erase our grief or trauma. We can feel joy and gratitude while still carrying fear and heartache. We don't move on from our babies. Our grief grows with us, and we grow around our grief, while carrying our babies with us always.

Symbols can become powerful metaphors for the love and loss of our babies. For me, the sleeping fox offers a softer landing for my grief without diminishing its gravity. It represents Tommy’s innocence and gentleness, while giving me a tangible space to nurture his memory and grow his legacy.

There are no perfect words for such a profoundly wrong situation. We each need to find the language that feels right for us — words to describe our experience, our loss, and our babies. Let’s give each other the grace and freedom to grieve in our own way, and to choose the words that help us carry our babies with us.

There is no right way to return to work after baby loss.

For some, work feels impossible. For others, it offers a sense of routine. Some need compassion and flexibility; others need privacy and space. And every loss, and every response to it, is different.

What matters is making room for grief while gently navigating the practicalities of returning to work.

When we experience profound loss, triggers can find us anywhere. The world can be a harsh and uncompassionate place, but you are not alone. Together, we can raise our voices and demand to be heard: our babies existed, our grief and trauma are real, and we deserve compassion.

When we grieve, we expect sadness — but grief comes in many colours. Some feelings may surprise us, even make us uncomfortable. But grief has many hues, and all are valid.

Patrescence isn’t spoken about enough. The transition to fatherhood isn’t always easy, and it can be even more complicated when it doesn’t end with a living baby. They are fathers still. And their grief matters, too.

Matrescence doesn’t necessarily begin with pregnancy, and it doesn’t stop if a pregnancy ends. It is a fluid transition of becoming that can begin long before a positive pregnancy test and continue long after loss. We are forever changed. We are mothers still.

Anniversaries and milestones are different for all of us, but they can still hit hard, even years later. Over time, we learn to recognise the days that are particularly difficult and find ways to honour and stay connected to our babies. The pain may never disappear completely, but neither does our love.

We’ve all heard it before… if only we would “just relax”, surely our fertility troubles would disappear!

But complex biological problems aren’t that simple. Stress doesn’t cause infertility, and relaxation doesn’t fix it.

This isn’t your fault.

And you are not alone.

Don’t let their resilience fool you… children grieve too.

It makes sense that they might be worried about what this new pregnancy means for them and their family.

Children need support through pregnancy after loss too.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy can be helpful for some people some of the time, but nothing fits everyone. Here, I talk about why CBT may miss the mark when it comes to supporting those experiencing infertility or baby loss, and the things we need to prioritise in a psychologist beyond the brand-name therapy they use.

There are parts of parenting that feel so much harder after loss. When you have been touched by death, the vulnerability of life comes into sharper focus. Our parenthood journey is irrevocably changed, but it’s not all for the worse.

The wound we carry from the death of our baby runs deep. The sting may soften, but a scar remains. At first, we may wish it would fully fade, but over time, we may come to recognise it as a symbol of our eternal love.

It is impossible to compare one loss to another. The ways we feel and hold our grief are different for each of us. But perhaps some of our heartache is shared territory. Let's choose to support each other instead.

The way loss touches our lives is as unique as we are. Here, I share a little of my own story. It may be worlds apart from yours, and yet you may recognise similarities in our shared, earth-shattering grief. Perhaps we are more alike than we are different.

I'm so sorry for your loss, too.