"It’s imperative that family, friends and colleagues know that reaching out, talking about our babies, just showing up and supporting bereaved parents means more than you could ever know, and not just in the beginning."
Danielle - Freeda's Mum
Freeda Love Mayflower Hill, our perfect and very loved gorgeous girl, was stillborn at 41 weeks and three days after a healthy, normal, low-risk pregnancy. The news that she had passed away was a complete shock to us as well as all of the hospital staff.
After sharing intimate experiences with other loss mums and from my own experience I am saying my baby’s name to ensure people know that the level of support (immediate and ongoing) and the language they use has such a significant impact on bereaved parents’ recovery journey and ongoing trauma.
As well as being devastating, losing Freeda has been extremely isolating. In addition, I was dealing with many struggles that are often physically associated to your body after you birth a baby and struggling daily with parenting my young son when all I wanted to do was disappear.
I’ve lost connection with people I thought were friends. To me, it’s clear that people could not understand that the impact of losing a child is like no other.
People staying silent, absent, thinking they can relate or offering support and not delivering has been one of the hardest parts of my journey. I’ve observed people think that because I’ve linked into services that I am and will be OK, that we have family around us to help when we don’t, that because we had a memorial for Freeda that I’ve been able to move on – this is far from the case.
We recently had our first Christmas without Freeda. For no one to mention Freeda in any way really reiterated to me the feelings I already had been experiencing and then watching my son open about every second gift under the tree hit home that Freeda will perhaps just be a fading memory in other people’s eyes.
It’s important to know that professional and charity support can never replace informal support. We have only been able to start Red Nose counselling in February (Freeda died in May last year), accessing private support did not come promptly or easily and my hospital referral for outreach support was not actioned until six months after Freeda died.
I am truly grateful for the support and practical help we did receive which was mostly initially after Freeda’s passing but I would not be where I am today on my recovery journey if it wasn’t for a friend who is nothing less than a Saint. She dropped everything to be with me for Freeda’s birth and held her before I was able, stepped up to seek information to support and help us, advocated for me when supports were lacking, showed up endlessly when I was at my lowest and so, so much more. I am blessed her support still continues strong now.
It’s imperative that family, friends and colleagues know that reaching out, talking about our babies, just showing up and supporting bereaved parents means more than you could ever know, and not just in the beginning.
Gordon's Story
Experiencing the profound sorrow of entering our newborn daughter, Freeda Love Mayflower Hill's details for both her birth and, tragically, her death certificate, with the same date for both, is an indescribable emotional journey. This pain offers an emotional reflection when set against the backdrop of my professional challenges.
In my early career as a service manager, I was eager and keen, constantly learning and integrating my street-smart instincts into the role. The pinnacle of my early achievements was playing a role in securing the largest managed print services (MPS) agreement in the country at that time. Despite our business being perceived as too modest for such feats, we proved sceptics wrong. This success was not the end but the beginning of our real challenge, delivering on our commitments.
As part of our commitment, we had regular review meetings. During preparations for a significant quarterly presentation, my colleague and I had high hopes, so much so that we even planned to celebrate afterwards, as we were proud of the work we would present however, reality had a different plan. Within minutes of our presentation, we faced intense criticism from the executive team. Their dissatisfaction was evident, our content was lacking, and the report missed essential details. When we inquired about their expectations, we were bluntly reminded of the agreement terms and additional agenda items to present on.
Following this setback, I sought guidance from a senior manager whom we had a positive rapport with during the tender process. During our meeting, she noted my stress levels, reached out and shared words that would forever shape my perspective: "Gordon, calm down, take a breath; we're not saving babies here." This counsel immediately provided solace. I continued, taking her feedback to heart, revamped our presentation, and, in our subsequent meeting, received accolades for our work.
The legacy of my daughter, Freeda Love Mayflower Hill, fleeting presence serves as a profound moment in my life. The phrase "we're not saving babies," took on a deeper meaning in light of my personal tragedy, now resonating with a much deeper significance a decade later, emphasising the gravity of life's true trials. Every challenge faced, whether personal or professional, carries with it the echo of Freeda's memory, urging me to maintain perspective, value the truly significant moments, and strive for continuous personal growth and understanding. Freeda may have been with us for but a moment, but her impact serves as a timeless reminder of what truly matters.
Graced with Freeda's gift, I now comprehend with unmatched clarity, feeling her silent yet profound expression of love.
Say Their Name Day is on March 25 – a special day to remember all of the little lives we have loved and lost, and support bereaved families.
