Baby loss awareness.

Baby Loss Awareness: Every Candle Holds a Story

The numbers are stark. Around 15 in every 100 pregnancies sadly end in miscarriage, and 4,477 babies died in the UK in 2024.

But behind every number is a story. An individual, a couple, a family, and all those who love them. Each loss represents a life that was hoped for, a future imagined, and a grief that deserves to be acknowledged.

Like infertility and fertility treatment, baby loss is something we are increasingly talking about, and for that, we should be grateful. Yet, despite greater awareness, it is still not always understood. Too often, the depth of grief is minimised, the loss is overlooked, or the expectation is that we should somehow move on.

But grief has no timetable, and the loss of a much-wanted baby is never simply something to get over.

My own story of loss

My own experience of loss began after our first round of IVF had resulted in the birth of our first child. When our next round of treatment ended in an early miscarriage, I was heartbroken. I had allowed myself a small glimmer of hope, dared to imagine what might be, and then had to face the devastating reality that it was not to be. I spent many days on the floor of our bathroom in tears, trying to make sense of something that felt utterly unfair.

Then came a loss I will never fully understand, and one for which I was entirely unprepared.

Despite our very real diagnosis of both male and female factor infertility, we conceived naturally. It was almost impossible to believe. For a brief few weeks, I found myself in a place of shock and disbelief, trying to reconcile what we had been told was unlikely with the possibility that perhaps, somehow, things might be different.

But that hope was short-lived. Once again, I had to wake up to a painful reality as I experienced another early miscarriage.

Each loss carried its own grief. Each brought its own questions, its own disappointment, and its own reminder of just how fragile hope can feel when you have already travelled a long and difficult road to parenthood.

The loss of a baby, and the loss of hope

Having worked in the field of women's health and fertility for more than twenty years, I have witnessed far too many women and men navigate the heartbreak of losing a baby. I have also seen the loss of hope that can accompany it, particularly for those who have already endured the challenges of infertility.

Every person's experience is different, and no two losses are the same. There is no hierarchy of grief, and no one should ever feel that their pain is less valid because of how early their pregnancy ended, the circumstances of their loss, or how others perceive it.

However, for those who experience miscarriage following fertility treatment, there can be an additional layer of pain and disappointment.

Fertility treatment often involves an enormous emotional, physical and financial investment. It can mean months or years of appointments, procedures, medication, waiting, uncertainty and difficult decisions. Getting to the point of a positive pregnancy test may have taken everything a person or couple has to give.

When that pregnancy ends in loss, the grief can be compounded by the knowledge that trying again may require another seismic effort, both emotionally and physically, alongside the financial cost of further treatment. And for some, the reality is that further treatment may simply not be possible.

None of this makes one person's loss greater than another's. Rather, it reminds us that grief rarely exists in isolation. It sits alongside everything that has come before, the hopes we have carried, the challenges we have faced, and the future we had begun to imagine.

Breaking the silence around baby loss

This Baby Loss Awareness Week, I am joining the many voices speaking out to ensure that every loss is recognised, every family is supported, and nobody feels they have to grieve in silence.

I am particularly grateful to organisations such as the Mariposa Trust, whose tireless work provides support and understanding to those affected by baby loss. The compassion, community and visibility that these organisations offer can make an immeasurable difference to people who may otherwise feel isolated in their grief.

Sometimes, the most meaningful support is not about finding the right words or trying to make things better. It is about listening. It is about acknowledging the baby who was lost, remembering that the grief is real, and allowing someone the space to feel whatever they need to feel, for as long as they need to feel it.

A simple “I'm so sorry”, a willingness to listen, or remembering an important date can mean more than we might ever know.

And if you are reading this and have experienced baby loss, please know that you do not need to justify your grief, minimise your pain, or compare your experience with anyone else's. Your baby matters. Your experience matters. Your grief matters.

Support is available, and you do not have to navigate this alone.

A wave of light, together

On 15 October, I will once again light a candle and join the National Wave of Light, remembering all the babies who are no longer with us and standing alongside the families who carry their memories.

For me, this simple act holds so much meaning. It is a moment to pause, to remember, and to acknowledge the lives that have touched us, however briefly. It is also a reminder that, even in the deepest grief, there is comfort in knowing that others understand, that others remember, and that we do not have to stand alone.

Each candle represents a story. A baby loved. A hope held. A family changed forever.

And when we light those candles together, their collective glow becomes something brighter than any one of us could create alone.

This Baby Loss Awareness Week, let us make space for every story, honour every loss, and remind every grieving parent that their baby will not be forgotten.

Because behind every statistic is a life, a love, and a story that deserves to be remembered.

Each candle a story, collectively burning brighter than on our own.