When I found out I was pregnant with my first child in June of last year, I went from excited to anxious to fearful, all within a few hours. Despite being open to parenthood and discussing it regularly, my then partner was anything but supportive when I told him about the positive test. In the weeks that followed, I had to accept the reality of becoming a single parent.
Despite all being well at an early scan, at nine weeks I heard the dreaded words no expecting mother wants to hear: ‘There is no heartbeat’. Having attended the appointment on my own, I was shaken to my core, experiencing a depth of grief I was unprepared for.
The weeks that followed were a blur. I was mentally and physically drained after two dilation and curettage (D&C) procedures [which are performed to clear the uterine lining after miscarriage or abortion] and despite how common miscarriage is - with statistics indicating around 1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss - I was stunned at how little support there was for those in my position.
I felt completely alone and like I wasn’t allowed to mourn my loss for fear of making others uncomfortable. The silence surrounding it was deafening. It seemed surreal in a world where we can talk so openly about so many things, that miscarriage – a loss endured by so many - must be swept under the carpet.
Friends and family tried to be kind, but many didn’t know what to say. Some unintentionally minimised the loss telling me I could always try again. Others avoided the subject altogether, leaving me to carry this heavy grief in isolation. I felt there was no space in society for the pain I was experiencing.
Seeking a community which understood, I found a few online forums filled with stories like mine. While comforting to read, it also left me angry seeing how many women felt just like me. It was clear that a societal shift is necessary to acknowledge the depth of loss that comes with miscarriage.
One thing I immediately wanted to do was find a special way to commemorate the little life I had lost. I scoured the internet for a meaningful keepsake, something with deep significance that I could keep with me forever,but nothing felt quite right.
In those early stages, I didn't know my child's gender, I hadn't felt their movements or seen distinct ultrasound images. The only thing I knew was the equivalent size my baby grew to be. So, I decided to create a ring inspired by the size of my little one - about the size of a blueberry. It felt like the perfect way to personalise a loss that is often challenging to do so because of its early nature. From there, it was a natural step to create pieces for others who are desperately searching for a way to commemorate a brief but treasured life.
That’s when I came up with Little Santi Designs, (Santi is the name I had planned to call my baby) which quickly became a passion project I poured my heart and soul into. After posting on Tik Tok about the rings in January, what followed was an outpouring of love, support and interest from women all over the world who sadly know this grief all too well.
Over the last ten months, the response I have received has been truly overwhelming. To provide support and meaningful tributes for those in this position has felt like a true blessing and way to channel my grief into something positive.
For this year’s Baby Loss Awareness week, I wanted to shine a light on the personal stories of these strong and inspiring people by launching the #MyLittle campaign. It is an opportunity for those who have suffered a pregnancy loss to share their stories and speak out about their experiences, which perhaps have felt hidden for too long. During this week I will be donating 10% of all profits to Tommy’s, the UK’s leading baby loss charity, through Work for Good.