Beth’s Story

Beth Kent is a small business owner and mum of four from Liverpool.

The start of our baby loss journey

Hello, I’m Beth, I’m married to Chris and we live in Liverpool with our four children. Our journey with baby loss began 11 years ago. I was 24, had been married for two years and I was pregnant with our first baby.

I remember the day of our 12 week scan so clearly. It was a bitterly cold December day and we had just decorated our Christmas tree. We went to the hospital full of so much joy and eager expectation at the prospect of seeing our baby for the first time. Like all first time mums I had drank gallons of water as requested by the midwife and found myself on the Sonographer’s bed desperate for a wee!

To begin with, the sonographer found our baby and pointed out the legs, arms, and tiny but mighty heartbeat. We cried and cooed at this remarkable sight before us. But as I was still watching the screen totally fixated on our baby, Chris noticed the tone of the room had suddenly changed. The sonographer was no longer talking to us, but instead looking more and more concerned.

With a slight hesitation, Chris asked if everything was ok? And that’s when everything changed. The sonographer told us that our baby was surrounded in a suit of fluid, that the nuchal fold reading was off the chart, and that our baby probably had some sort of chromosomal disorder. He told us that I was being referred to see the consultant the next day - but that I would probably miscarry before that.

When solid ground becomes water

We went home feeling like the solid ground beneath us had become like water. The rug was pulled, and we didn’t know what to do or think next. That night we cradled my belly and prayed for a miracle, prayed for strength, and cried with broken hearts.

The next few days were a haze of appointments, scans, CVS screening and decisions. The consultant told us our baby was a boy, and that he had Edwards syndrome. She told us that he wasn’t compatible with life, and that in her eyes the best thing for us would be to terminate the pregnancy.

She suggested that we reconvene on Christmas Eve to plan the way ahead. But we both knew we wanted to continue with the pregnancy. All I wanted to do was to protect our baby, and hope for a miracle.

I can’t say it was easy, in fact it’s quite possibly the hardest situation we have ever dealt with. But we named our baby Isaac and for 36 weeks we got to enjoy the kicks and wiggles, hiccups and heart burn!

My belly continued to grow, and with it so did the love for our baby. Chris and myself shared so many special moments adoring the life growing inside me.  

Then at 36 weeks I felt the kicks and wriggles stop, Isaac’s heart was no longer beating. What came next were some of our darkest days.

Preparing to meet our son

For 24 hours I carried Isaac inside me while we waited for the labour to start. I’ve never been so scared.

It was my first time giving birth, but I prepared for it already knowing that we would be leaving the hospital empty-handed.

The experience was just so hard and painful. There really are no words to describe how it felt, but somehow we got through it.

When I delivered Isaac, like all of my other children since, he had a wonderful mop of dark hair.

We spent that day in hospital with family, saying goodbye to our little boy, and then afterwards we left with a memory box, some information leaflets and arms that felt so bare.

In the aftermath of loss

We moved into my family home for a few weeks as we couldn’t face being in our own home. When you're grieving, simply breathing seems like a chore. My parents loved us, cooked for us, and helped us to arrange the funeral plans.

Physically I had all the normal after pains of labour and I didn’t want them to end, as they were my only remaining connection to Isaac. It might sound strange, but I found some comfort in them. When they did finally stop, I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness and loss.

The days turned to weeks, turned to months, and slowly we started to live again. I washed my hair, did the food shop, and went back to work, but our hearts still grieved. Life felt very raw.

One of the things I found incredibly hard was embracing my postpartum body. My belly which once carried life now looked larger and covered with stretch marks, and it only reminded me of what I didn’t have. I hated dressing my changed body, and often felt like a fraud when I was out and about. I looked like a new mum, but I didn't have a baby to show for it. 

Every night I cradled a teddy a friend gave me for Isaac, because my hands had to hold something. The grief felt so physical at times, as well as emotional - it was just exhausting.

But in the midst of the pain, mine and Chris’ love also deepened. We had gone to the depths of grief together and it felt like a sacred experience. We knew each other more intimately than ever before.

When I was still pregnant we had made an agreement that we would allow this experience to shape us and change us, but we wouldn’t allow it to rob us of life, joy and adventure. So together we clung onto that, tried to find joy in the small things, and looked for adventure again.

The journey towards healing

We have the most amazing family who stood by us, walking through the grief with us. They would listen when we wanted to talk, and hold us when we couldn’t stand.

But what probably helped me most was talking about it, finding people I felt safe with to share the rawest parts of me, and saying Isaac’s name out loud.

I very quickly learnt that not everyone would understand what we had been through, and that’s ok. But for that season, I chose to distance myself from those relationships that were unhelpful. We had to learn to protect ourselves as we were already very vulnerable.

We also both have a deep faith in God, something that really helped carry us through this season. Our church community gathered around us to provide so much love and support to us, both physically and spiritually at that time - upholding us with their kindness, practical care, and prayers.

We also got a puppy, which proved healing because he helped to get us up and out of the house each day in the midst of our deepest grief. For Chris especially, those walks were a place of real healing. In nature, he could shout, cry and think...

Reflecting back now

Fast forward to 2021, and we now have 4 beautiful children. It hasn’t been an easy journey to get here though.

I also had 3 further miscarriages along the way, but life really is rich, full of joy and adventure now, and we are so grateful for our family.

But we still think about Isaac often, and our children often talk of their big brother. He is very much still a missing part of our family unit. Over time we have learnt somehow to live in the tension of missing somebody so precious, while still enjoying life in all its beauty.

And now, when I look at my belly, I do so with pride. I see the stretchmarks and they remind me of the precious life I carried, the fight we fought for him, and the courage it took to go through it all.