This is My Story - Jodie

In this series of personal stories we hear from parents who have suffered pregnancy or baby loss. We hold space for loss and grief, and we remember our babies gone too soon.

In sharing their stories, these parents are beginning to exorcise the triple demons of stigma, silence and ignorance that afflict so many conversations in the perinatal bereavement space.

Parents share their journeys and the lessons they have learned about grief, parenthood, friendship and living after the death of their baby. They tell us how they have changed, who they have become, and what truly matters now.

Alistair and Theodore with their teddies

Our family isn't new to baby loss. Back in 2016, our firstborn child Alistair was born at 23 weeks. Being just shy of viability, he wasn't able to be saved. Since then my husband and I were fortunate enough to bring home three healthy girls. In 2024, when I found out we were expecting a boy, I was so glad that our girls would be able to have a brother earth side, with their older brother in heaven.

It was a relatively straightforward pregnancy - lots of extra check ups to the 23 week mark or so, and despite the standard aches and pains, I generally loved being pregnant.

I saw my obstetrician when I was approaching 37 weeks and we heard our little boy's heartbeat. But just four days later, when I felt he had been a little quiet, we found that he had passed away. Lying in the pregnancy assessment centre, I couldn't believe that we would lose not one, but two babies.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was told to come back on Monday morning for an induction.

Going home to tell our girls that our baby wouldn't be coming home was horrible. They cried for their brother, and I was so angry that three little girls were touched by such intense grief at such a young age.

I still hate Saturday afternoons, but I don't have the same feeling towards Mondays. 17th February was a tough day (going through labour to birth a child who will not cry is a hell I wouldn't wish upon anyone), but everyone we saw at the hospital that day were just lovely people: our midwife who stayed with us all day, the bereavement team who came to see us...

Our boy was surrounded by love when he was born. Theodore Joseph "Teddy" Jones was born at 4.44pm. He had long feet like his dad, and a nose like his sisters, and was perfect.

I said to my husband in the days after Teddy was born that I felt I should be better at grief.

I was already a bereaved mum. I had birthed and said goodbye to Alistair. But despite grief entering our lives back in 2016, the pain of losing Teddy was a fresh hell.

I knew logically that one day I would function again and I would notice the sun and find moments of joy. But in the weeks and months after Teddy was born, I couldn't see my way out of this intense black hole of grief.

Helping our daughters navigate their sadness was a steep learning curve as well, and as a family we spoke about the waves of grief hitting us.

As I would dissolve into tears during dinner, my husband would remind the girls that their mum was having a wave, and the depths of this pain would subside.

But at that moment, I was just intensely sad. Everyone thinks their kids are the best, but I am so proud of how our girls carried themselves in those weeks, being so patient with me when I was desperate to mother their baby brother.

Leaving the hospital without your baby is unnatural. It's just not what is supposed to happen.

Going home to a house which was prepared for a newborn, but instead you have a memory box and photos from Heartfelt (honestly, angels on earth) - the thought of it still makes me feel physically ill.

So at home, we had  two memory boxes, two sets of Heartfelt photos, lots of photos of our girls together - but nothing of our two boys together.

When I found out about Possum Portraits and asked if they could incorporate both Alistair and Teddy. They were so positive about what was possible. When our completed portrait arrived, I was taken aback by the relief I felt - seeing our sons together was something I didn't even realise I needed.

And so now, between two photos of our girls, hangs our portrait of our boys. It's what I see when I go to bed and what I see when I wake up. And although it still feels wrong that neither of them are with us now, I'm so grateful that talented, generous people exist who are able to give such a gift to families like ours.

This is a shitty club with a lifetime membership but my goodness, have we met some of the best people through this club.

---

Please consider donating and help give a

Possum Portrait to a mum like Jodie

who is living with loss.

Donate