Why we need to be supporting Chrissy Teigen in raising awareness of baby loss

Having spent the the last 14 years trying to come to terms with the loss of Joseph, I felt quite confident that I had reached a point where life had started to get that tiny bit easier, where I could share our story with clarity and acceptance, where I could carry my grief in a way that still allowed me to live my life to the very fullest. This week, having read the cruellest and most ignorant comments regarding the photos released by Chrissy Teigen and John Legend following the loss of their son, I felt as though I was right back there at square one, and I have spent the last few days reeling from the opinions of far too many.

I won’t share the specific comments made on social media but for those who did not read them, and gosh I wish I hadn’t, they stated that baby loss is something which should be kept private, not shared nor discussed, and certainly should not be posted on the internet with friends or strangers. Many went on to add that it was attention seeking to share our stories, said that taking photographs of baby loss was shameful, and that these babies were not even babies at all. And I’m sure you can imagine, even those of you who have not experienced baby loss yourselves, how each of those comments shook me and many other bereaved parents to the core.

For me, when I saw the photos released by the Legends, they took me right back to the moment we said goodbye to our own son, just two parents working out how to accept the loss of a child we had planned a whole lifetime for. I felt every ounce of pain written on Chrissy’s face, my tears mirroring her own as I looked into the eyes of a Mother, just like me, reeling with shock and indescribable pain. And whilst I felt incredibly sad that their hearts were breaking, I felt so much love, respect, and complete admiration that they were sharing their story so bravely to raise awareness of baby loss. And indeed part of me, a grieving Mother still missing her son, felt a huge pang of regret that my own memories of my time with Joseph are limited to the distant memories of my mind and just a handful of blurred photos.

And I guess that’s why I felt so angry reading the comments, angrier than I have felt in such a long time if I’m honest, knowing that the stigma of baby loss impacted not only on my time with Joseph but even now, fourteen years later, has left me with untold regret. Because at 26 years old, having never known anyone have a baby full stop, let alone a baby who had died, when we entered that hospital to give birth to our son, my residing emotion, other than absolute shock and devastation, was fear. 

Looking back at that time, I don’t remember a single moment when a midwife had prepared us for what to expect during my induction, nor prepared us for the reality of what our son would look like when he was born. I don’t remember a single moment we had been advised to soak up every single minute of our time spent together, told to capture him on camera, to take family photos and precious videos, to allow family and friends to come and visit a baby they had long awaited with us. Never once were we told the importance of leaving the hospital with only one regret: that we didn’t get to take him with us. 

Instead Joseph was placed into our arms, we were ushered into a side room where the cries of living babies penetrated the walls, and we were left alone to spend our time together. And as we sat there, cocooned together in our bubble of grief, I think we both instinctively knew that there would be no visitors to the hospital, no family or friends asking to come and meet our son. We knew without question that this was very much to be a moment for the two of us, for the three of us, weighted down under the taboo of baby loss which hung so heavy in the air.

I look back now and feel so sad for that couple, sat there alone in complete and utter shock, questioning whether it was okay to sleep with our son between us, wondering whether it would be considered strange to photograph our own child, pre-empting the judgement of others should we ever go on to share those memories outside of those four walls.

And whilst we did take photos, just a handful at least, I had known even then that nobody would want to see the raw anguish on our faces, the tears spilling down our cheeks, the look of shock and bewilderment and complete devastation as we held a baby whom to others, did not look quite as perfect as those that make it home. It still shocks me to the core that in the only photograph I have of myself and Joseph I am smiling at the camera, that at 26 years old, holding my dead child in my arms, I knew that the look of heartache on my face would be too much for others to bear. I can barely bring myself to look at that photo these days, staring into the pixalated face of a girl I used to know, wondering why she still felt the need to protect others when inside her heart was breaking.

And I guess that’s what triggered such a reaction with the photographs shared last week, the reason behind so many ignorant comments and so much un-necessary judgement, the fact that Chrissy Teigen’s grief was written all over her face for the world to see, unashamedly. “I felt like I was intruding” read one comment, “It was far too upsetting to be shared” said another, “Those moments should have been kept private”  read many. And with every comment it hurt my heart that the message is just not being heard.

The reason that people objected to these photos is because baby loss scares us, plain and simple. These photos make you catch your breath and your stomach hurt, takes your mind to places that as a parent you never even want to imagine. These photos are raw and painful and devastatingly real and that’s always going to trigger a reaction in others which divides us into two: those who are kind and those who are not.

The sad truth is that these moments, however heartbreaking to see, are the only ones we have to share. These moments, however upsetting it might be to imagine, are all we have to show of a baby who we will never see grow old. These moments, however private others may view them, are all we have to validate that our baby even existed. And these moments, whether they are kept private or made public, should never leave us feeling ashamed or scared of upsetting others.

Believe me, there isn’t a single bereaved parent out there who wouldn’t rather be sharing photos of their healthy baby instead but these moments, where our whole world has ended, when the look of absolute horror is written all over our faces, that’s our reality right there for the world to see. These moments, where we are blinded by our grief, when we are desperately trying to work out how to say goodbye to a baby we had waited all these months to meet, that is all we have to share with you, for always.

The truth is, I have spent the last 14 years feeling painfully aware the loss of our son leaves others feeling uncomfortable. I have spent 14 years apologising every time my voice has wobbled when I’ve spoken about him, feeling embarrassed when my tears have taken me by surprised, feeling guilty when others have expressed how upsetting they have found it to hear our story. I have felt painfully aware that whilst photos of my sons hands or feet are, for the most part, accepted, photos of his face will never be. And I know that should I share his photo, or even write about him in my posts, I must pre-warn others that the thing they are about to click on may not be something they wish to view. I’m not sure about you but I have never in all my life had to do that for one of my children who was born healthy and well. 

And although it’s hard going forward, I vow to never apologise for those feelings, to never make excuses for my grief, to never hide away from the fact that living a life without my child has changed me in ways I can never find the words to express. And I know that I will continue to share our story, and I will continue to shout about baby loss, and I will share Joseph’s face to those who wish to see it, to those whose hearts are filled with only kindness and love. But not today, today my heart is hurting; today I simply want to say this…..

There will never be a positive side to baby loss, no pretty filtered pictures or insta-perfect moments; there will never be happy stories to tell or funny anecdotes of baby loss to relay. And whilst it will never be easy to think about, or talk about, and certainly not to look at, it is happening every single day, indiscriminately and indefinitely. And perhaps rather than making judgement, or writing cruel comments, or turning your head completely, the alternative is to be kinder, to be more supportive, to educate yourself about the steps you can take to support the charities who work so tirelessly so that one day, fewer parents will be sat here without their child.

And maybe we should all take a moment to really look at these photos of Chrissy and John, to push past our fears and our upset and simply see two bereaved parents holding their son, capturing a moment filled with nothing but love for each other. Maybe it’s time that we open up our eyes to the reality of baby loss and see that there is nothing at all to be ashamed of or cast judgement on, just a Mother and Father saying their first hello and their hardest goodbye.

And maybe, at the hardest time of a persons life, when they are going through hell, be that privately or in public, we can all just try to be a little kinder.