Yesterday, Saturday 5th May, was International Day of the Midwife. I marked yesterday by wishing my two amazing midwives a happy day and asking them to send pictures of themselves so that I could write this post, dedicated to them and all those extraordinary women out there who we call midwives.

I then found out that today, Sunday 6th May, is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. I had never heard of this day before and why would I have? I was just a “normal mother” last year. How have I suddenly got the title of “bereaved mother”?? I’m not sure how I feel about having a day focused directly on the fact that I have an angel son. For me, this just makes me more sad to be honest. It’s just another reminder that I’m part of this club that I desperately don’t want to be in. A reminder that I lost a part of my soul. A reminder that so many other women also have this day focused on the loss of their child.

But I digress. This post was supposed to be about my midwives so I’m going to concentrate on them. Following on from the Channel 5 News Special that I was recently part of (Stillbirth: Still a Taboo) I was shocked and saddened to know that not everyone had the same positive hospital story that I had. I mean it was bad enough that they had lost a baby. But to then be in a situation where you don’t receive all of the love and support that you so desperately need? I couldn’t bear thinking about it. What happened to us was tragic. It was probably the worst loss that anyone could ever experience. But I can wholeheartedly say that everything surrounding us at that time radiated nothing but love. From the second that poor nurse scanned me and told us the gut wrenching news that Shayen did not have a heartbeat. I could see the hospital staff’s emotions. I could see the sadness and upset in all of their faces. The ability to hold it together when I needed them to because I was so broken. To the ability to cry with me when I needed them to feel my pain. I’m not quite sure how they find the strength to do their jobs.

I put myself in the shoes of a midwife. A healthcare professional who has the job of assisting women in childbirth. I started to wonder what a stillbirth meant to them. If I was a gardener, looking after a garden for someone. I would sow seeds, trim hedges, nurture and feed this garden so that it bloomed wonderfully. In the same way, midwives provide a certain strength to pregnant women. We are their gardens. How must a gardener feel when his plants don’t grow or his grass dies? Like he failed in his job although what has happened is not really in his control and partly down to Mother Nature. I imagine this feeling being a thousand times worse for a midwife when a mother delivers a still born baby. They become a bereaved midwife I suppose. They must feel a sense of failure in their jobs although again, in most cases, what has happened is completely out of their control.

I’ve written before about the great care I received at Hillingdon Hospital. But I want to pay tribute today to Aimee and Sophie. My supportive, brave and strong midwives. I want to thank you and I want you to know that I think of you every single day. I wonder often how you coped with having to support us and Shayen and how that affected your jobs today. I hope that you know we will be eternally grateful to you. My little boy received so much love from you in the time he was in hospital and your love and care for us and our families was second to none. You really do have a motherly love in your own right, a love I’m sure you need as a midwife. Not everyone could do your job – it takes a certain type of person.

So on this day that is called International Bereaved Mother’s Day, I’d like to salute all of my bereaved mothers and midwives out there. I may not want to be a part of this club, but I’m comforted in knowing that I’m surrounded by some of the most inspirational women I have ever met. Here’s to us. May we all continue to find strength, love and light.

Below: Midwife Aimee Fullam and Midwife Sophie Deakin.