This is My Story - Kelsey
- Possum Portraits
- Jun 6
- 7 min read
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.

Baby girl Olivia
March 24th 2023 will always be a special day. Not only did our son turn one, but it was also the day we found out we were pregnant with number two. I remember so clearly the positive line showing on the test, and me being in disbelief but beyond excited.
Josh came home that night and asked if I wanted I beer. I said no thanks and he turned around and said "What, are you pregnant?" We'd only just started trying, so both of us didn't expect to fall so quickly. Ironically he was standing in pretty much the exact place he was in when I told him we were pregnant with our firstborn.
The pregnancy was a breeze. I was fortunate not to experience any morning sickness, and weirdly had more energy than usual. Juggling chasing after a toddler and growing this new little human felt so perfect and right.
We didn't find out the gender for our son, which I loved. But my husband is a planner and he really wanted to know if he was going to get the little girl he'd always dreamed of.
So when the time came for our 20 week scan we had the sonographer write down the gender on a piece of paper for us. A couple of days later, after a lot of tears on my end, I came to terms that we were finding out the gender. We opened the card to see the box for girl ticked.
The look of joy on my husband's face is one I'll never forget. He adores our little boy, but he has always wanted to be a girl dad. He had her name picked while we were dating - our little girl would always be Olivia Rae.
From that day on she was called Liv or Livy and everything in the world was right.
Fast forward to 21st November 2023. I was 38+1 weeks pregnant. I went to the hospital for a routine midwife appointment and they found my blood pressure was high. The test results for pre-eclampsia came back positive.
Our little girl had been a little bit slower to move over the last couple of days also, so the doctors decided to bring our planned caesarean birth forward a week. On 22nd November we went into the pre-op room ready to meet our little girl. I remember feeling weirdly calm. We had a chaotic birth with our son and throughout the whole pregnancy we voiced that we wanted this to be very different.
The anaesthetist gave me the spinal block and within a minute I remember feeling the warm rush from the numbing. Then I felt nauseous, an I mean really nauseous.
I let the medical team know and before I knew it, my body started shaking. The same thing had happened during my son's birth, and it was happening again. I remember telling myself in my head that I'd be okay - this happened last time, and we're all fine, so it's okay.
But next thing my eyes started closing. In my head it was me thinking I was passing out. In reality it was the medical staff taking control and putting me in a coma. Unfortunately my blood pressure dropped so severely that my heart suffered a Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy. They got our little girl out so fast, with minimal signs of life. People came from every direction to help. Meanwhile my poor husband was still waiting outside the room.
They managed to get our Liv stable and it was decided very quickly that she needed to get to a hospital with a larger NICU ward to treat her properly. Several hours after her crazy Earthside entrance she was transferred. Her condition went up and down and round and round. It was a roller-coaster for her, and everyone else.
In the meantime I was still in the hospital I had given birth in. In the early hours of the morning my heart stopped beating. After 30 seconds of CPR I was stabilised again. The following day, 2 days after Olivia's birth, I woke up from my coma.
I remember opening my eyes, looking around the room and thinking "Last thing I remember is they were getting ready to cut Liv out - where is she though?" I felt my belly and knew she wasn't in there anymore. Josh filled me in on what had happened over the last couple of days and it all felt so surreal. I definitely don't think I knew how serious it all was. In my head we'd both be okay. Josh showed me photos of her and she was so perfect. She had a beautiful head full of hair, she was a little chunk at 3830g, and she was a fighter.
I was finally deemed okay to get transferred to her and I got to meet her on the Sunday, 4 days after she was born.
Our poor girl was battling hard, but still had her wins. She managed to open her eyes at one point, and then the day I met her she did a big poo in her nappy. These are massive achievements for a sick little girl.
Over the next couple of days the good and bad times kept coming. We were told to take it hour by hour, which is what we did.
Unfortunately on day 6 the NICU medical team told us she had taken another turn and this one was going to be very hard to come back from. Each bad turn took a huge toll on her little body and it just couldn't take it anymore. We made the heartbreaking decision to end her suffering.
I'll never forget our first cuddle as the medical team continually checked her heart rate. She looked so peaceful - but all I wanted was the chaos that comes with a new baby.
After numerous appointments with the medical teams it appears Liv's condition was not pre-existing. We are still waiting on results for the placenta. However, her main cause of death was persistent pulmonary hypertension of the newborn (PPHN), Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy (HIE) and maternal Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy. It's a pretty hard pill to swallow, knowing that my blood pressure dropping so low so fast is what has caused this nightmare.
I hate that we never got to look into each other's eyes, or hold each other's hand. I find myself constantly trying to imagine what her little laugh would sound like, and longing to see her and her big brother develop that unbreakable bond I know they would have had.
Throughout the whole pregnancy all I thought about was getting to know this new little human. What I do know is that she was the most loved little girl who impacted everyone around her. She was so incredibly strong and determined. I'm proud to say she had my stubborn ways and her dad's determination. We will forever be so proud of her.
Losing Liv will forever be the hardest thing life has thrown at us. But she has taught us to really appreciate everything and be even more patient than we already were.
Instead of losing our temper when our son throws what we think is an unnecessary tantrum, we comfort him and embrace the moment.
Because to be honest, I’d take a million tantrums over not having them at all. I'd trade a good night's sleep for pacing the hallway all night if it meant we got to hold our girl that little bit tighter for longer.
Before Liv passed away, I had no idea how common it is for people to lose their babies at full term or close to. I feel like there should be so much more awareness. Neonatal loss and stillbirths are becoming increasingly more common and it's heartbreaking. I do feel the expectation is that if you make it passt 12 weeks, you're 'safe'. I know I told myself multiple times through the pregnancy that if she came anytime after 34 weeks we'd be fine, there would be something that could be done to help her. Sadly that's not the case for so many babies and their bereaved parents.
I will be forever grateful for the time we did get with Olivia, and I cannot wait for our son to be old enough to learn about her properly. His age has definitely been an advantage in the sense that we haven't had to have those tough conversations with him. He just potters around and gives us so much to look forward to.
My advice to anyone that unfortunately has to walk this road is to lean on each other. Know that there are going to be hard chats - for a really long time - and that everyone grieves differently. Be patient. Lean on those around you that offer help.
I find talking about Livy really helps me - I dread the thought of her ever being forgotten.
We're still really early into our grieving journey, and we take each day as it comes. Some days will feel easier than others and time doesn't always make it easier either. I actually find the grief has gotten harder now that the numbness has worn off.
She'll forever be our baby girl. I'll always be so grateful that we got our Livy Rae.
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