Please note, we’ll be discussing the loss of a baby in this article. Feel free to give it a miss if you need to. If you choose to keep reading, be gentle with yourself. The loss of a baby at any stage can be incredibly difficult. If you’ve landed here after experiencing this yourself, I’m really sorry. I hope you can find some comfort and support in the words that follow and those I’ve shared previously about coping with baby loss.
How I Navigated My Own Trauma as a Therapist
Sadly, there aren’t many people who haven’t experienced adversity or trauma at some point in their lives. Inevitably, as we move through the world, we all experience periods that are positive and periods that are difficult.
For therapists, caring for others and working with people in deep levels of distress can be challenging at the best of times. Navigating your own trauma alongside these things can be even harder.
I love my job. I’ve always felt drawn to helping people who are suffering and encouraging others to do the same. But there have also been difficult seasons where my career has impacted my own wellbeing.
I know how hard it can be to put your mental health first, especially when you’re used to caring for others. I know how it feels to push yourself to the limit before you’re able to give yourself time and space to prioritise your own health and psychological wellbeing. I also know that every time I’ve done this, I’ve been able to return to the job I love, even when the nature of the work I do has been a significant factor in my own distress.
Elliott’s Story
On March 2 2023, our family experienced a heart-wrenching tragedy. My nephew, Elliott, was born into our lives, but his arrival was marked by silence. An incredibly rare blood clot in his umbilical cord cut off his oxygen and resulted in his death.
This painful loss left us all in profound grief. Elliott's parents, my sister Jo and her husband Craig, were shattered by the experience. Elliott’s older siblings, Lily and Jack, had eagerly anticipated the arrival of their sweet baby brother, only to be met with the inexplicable emptiness of losing him before they could even get to know him.
The grief and pain were immense, and our family was left searching for a way to find meaning amid this devastating loss.
Working Through Grief
I was at work when my sister called to tell me what was happening. Even now I can vividly remember the sound of her voice and the pain and confusion it contained.
I immediately rushed to my car. I had a strong sense of needing to be with my sister. Unfortunately, she lives 200 miles away and I have two small children, so in that moment I couldn’t go to her.
Instead, I reached out to some friends. We drank fruit tea, prayed together, and they helped me figure out how I could support my sister and her family. They also helped me see how I could juggle this with my own work and family commitments, and at that point, my significant emotional overwhelm.
Although I continued to work in the days that followed, I soon realised I was there in body while my mind was elsewhere. It became very clear to me, very quickly, that I needed to put some of my client work on hold or bring things to an end if this was already in the plan. I also opted to take some time away from my leadership role in the NHS.
In the end, I took several months off work, and this became the catalyst for some major life decisions. I recognised that while working for various organisations, I would never be in a position where I could put my family first or work in a way that was flexible enough to truly take care of myself.
I returned to my leadership role for a short time before leaving the NHS to run my own independent practice.
The Fallout of Trauma
Of course, taking time off wasn’t enough to completely shield me from the fallout of trauma. For a while, I struggled with a sense that something terrible was going to happen at any moment. My sister’s loss also reactivated a lot of fears I’d had around my daughter’s safety following my own difficult birth experience. This was contrasted with feelings of guilt. I remember believing I was on the periphery of this terrible thing. It hadn’t happened to me and therefore my feelings needed to be kept in check.
At the same time, my years of experience sitting with the emotional pain of others and having difficult conversations put me in a unique position. I was able to support my sister and her family and be a container for some of their feelings. The depth of pain when somebody loses a child is almost unfathomable, so I did my best to make space for their emotions over the phone and in-person whenever I could.
While this was positive thing, I became very over-vigilant. I felt a huge need to protect others, especially my sister, a feeling I’d not experienced since we were small and somebody was mean to her in the playground. I felt I needed to be with her or contactable at times.
To manage this, I started putting my phone on ‘do not disturb’ from 9pm at night when I go to bed. It’s set up so certain calls can break through, allowing me to be there for my sister without obsessively checking my phone when I should be sleeping.
Elliott’s Legacy
It’s important for us as a family to continue talking about Elliott and remembering the hopes and dreams we had for him. I’ve also been left with a strong desire to help people dealing with baby loss. I want to use my passion and skills as a trauma therapist to alleviate suffering in Elliott’s name.
I knew it could be difficult to work closely with families experiencing what my sister went though. Understandably, when I think and talk about what happened, I become emotional. But when I’m with clients in my role as a therapist, it’s not about me or what I’ve been through. It’s about the person in front of me. Even though I have my own feelings about what happened to Elliott, I’m able to use my experience to be a better therapist for others.
Baby Loss Therapy and Support Through Elliott’s Legacy
At Fortitude, we believe all parents should have access to high quality therapy and support following the loss of their baby, whether through miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death, or termination for medical reasons.
In honour of my beloved nephew, and with the agreement of his parents, Jo and Craig, I have decided to give back. In his name, I'm dedicated to providing therapy free of charge for those who have experienced the profound pain of stillbirth or neonatal loss.
Through this, I aim to transform our grief into an opportunity for others to find strength and hope, carrying my nephew's beautiful spirit forward in a meaningful, healing way. By creating a haven of safety where individuals can share their grief, find solace, and begin their therapy journey, we honour Elliott's legacy and extend a lifeline to those who share this pain.
You can learn more, explore our resources, and make an enquiry here >>> Baby Loss Therapy and Support.
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