‘While You Were Apart’ Words from those who cared for your baby 

Some questions never leave us. Sometimes, gentle answers can help.

Written and curated by Siân Ness, Bereavement Consultant & Relationship Manager, Midwife

There are some questions that bereaved parents carry quietly for years.

Questions that may never be spoken aloud. Questions that can surface unexpectedly, long after the cards have stopped arriving and life around them has moved on.

Recently, I came across a social media post written by Sita Patel, a bereaved mother whose son, Arjun died shortly after birth in 2019. What she wrote was both heartbreaking and thought-provoking. Despite the years that had passed, she still found herself wondering about the time her baby was away from her and in the care of healthcare professionals. Her words highlighted a question that many bereaved parents quietly carry: what happened when they could not be there?

Was he looked after?

Was he treated with kindness and care?

Did people see him as a precious baby, not just a body?

Did someone hold him gently, notice his features, admire how beautiful he was?

Did anyone talk to him?

Did they think about how loved he was and how devastating his loss would be for his family?

I realised these questions are not unique to her. They are questions I have heard, in different forms, from many bereaved parents over the years. Questions born from love, grief, and the natural desire to know that your baby was cared for when you could not be there.

Those of us who work in bereavement care know the answer. We know the tenderness with which babies are held. We know the care taken when preparing them for their families. We know the respect shown during examinations, in mortuaries, in funeral homes, and in every setting where these precious babies are entrusted to our care.

But parents do not always see these moments.

Much of this care happens quietly, behind the scenes. Families are often shielded from the practicalities, and understandably so. Yet in the absence of knowing, questions can remain.

This project, While You Were Apart, was created to help answer some of those questions.

I reached out to the people whose work touches the lives of bereaved babies and their families: bereavement midwives, maternity support workers, obstetricians, neonatologists, neonatal staff, perinatal pathologists, mortuary teams, funeral directors, and many others. I asked them to share a few words about the care they provide and what it means to them personally.

What followed was an outpouring of compassion, humanity, and profound respect for the babies entrusted to their care.

The reflections that follow are not polished statements or professional soundbites. They are honest words from people who carry out this work every day. People who understand that every baby is deeply loved. People who know that behind every baby is a family whose world has changed forever.

My hope is that by sharing these voices, parents will gain a glimpse into the care their babies received during the moments they could not witness themselves.

I hope they will see that their baby was treated with dignity. That they were held gently.

That they were spoken to kindly. That they were recognised not simply as a patient, a case, or a task, but as somebody’s son, somebody’s daughter, somebody’s entire world.

Most of all, I hope these words bring reassurance.

Because although parents may not have been able to be there for every moment, they can know that their baby was never without care, compassion, and respect.

This is for every parent like Sita and Rik, who has ever wondered what happened while they were apart.

A Reflection from Me, Sian Ness – Bereavement Consultant and Midwife at CuddleCot

Since coming across this post, I’ve found myself returning to her questions time and time again. They resonated so deeply within me that they inspired me to create this collection of reflective and reassuring words; an attempt to offer comfort, understanding, and a glimpse into the care, love, and compassion shown to their babies.

To the families of the babies I have cared for,

I know there are moments you did not witness. Moments when you had to leave the room, moments when your baby was taken elsewhere, and moments that may have replayed in your mind over the years as you wondered what happened after you said goodbye, even for a little while.

In those moments, I hope you know that somebody slowed down. Somebody took their time. Somebody recognised the enormity of what had happened.

I want you to know that every baby placed in my care is treated with the utmost tenderness, care and love. I am always profoundly aware that I am caring for a baby who is endlessly loved. At the same time, I carry an acute awareness of the unimaginable heartbreak their family is enduring.

I take time to notice and treasure all the tiny details that make each baby uniquely themselves, their wrinkled little feet, their long eyelashes, their delicate ears, the shape of their nose, the softness of their hands.

If I need to move or care for them, I do so with gentleness, speaking to them throughout, quietly explaining what I am doing and apologising for disturbing their rest. Whether I am weighing them, dressing them, or collecting handprints and footprints for their mummy and daddy to hold onto forever, every touch is careful, every movement slow and deliberate, every action guided by love and respect. There have been times when I have straightened a blanket one last time before leaving the room because it felt important that everything was just right, ensuring they are tucked in tight.

There have been countless moments when I have leaned over a baby and felt tears fall onto their blanket before I could stop them. In those moments, I have found myself questioning why life can be so unbearably cruel, why such an innocent and precious life was taken far too soon, and how their family could possibly bear such overwhelming loss.

I have walked into rooms and found colleagues carrying the very same thoughts, each of us trying to compose ourselves because there is still work to do. There have been shared tears, silent embraces, and countless tissues shared.

There have been days when I have driven home barely aware of the journey because thoughts of your precious baby and your broken heart have occupied every corner of my mind. Even after years in this role, there are moments that catch me off guard. As I return home to my own children, I have wrestled with feelings of guilt, knowing that I get to hold my babies while you cannot hold yours.

We learn, somehow, to carry these experiences so that we can continue to care for other families, but we never become untouched by them.

There are babies whose names I still remember long after I have forgotten countless other details from that period of my life. There are families I still think about when I pass certain places, hear certain songs, or see a particular date on a calendar.

Please know this above all else: we care deeply. Your baby was cared for by people who understood the privilege and responsibility of being entrusted with them.

Please know that your baby matters to us. We carry them with us. They remain in our hearts long after we have said goodbye.

Eloise McKenzie-Wood – Midwife Sonographer

Sian and I have worked as senior midwives for many years, caring for bereaved families during some of the most tender and devastating moments of their lives. We often chose to work together, finding strength in one another as we supported families and cared for your babies’ side by side.

We made it our quiet commitment to care for each baby with the utmost dignity, gentleness, and respect. We spoke to them as we would any baby, as if they were our own, because to us they were not just our patients, they were precious little lives and so deeply loved.

Please know that we do cry. Many tears are shed, both in the moment and long after. Even weeks, months, and years later, we still speak of your babies, remembering them and the mark they left on us and on the world.

Sleep tight, little ones. You are so deeply loved.

Lisa Johnson – Midwife

Supporting a family through baby loss is both heartbreaking and humbling and I have been privileged as a midwife to do so many times, my heart aches for the family, and the future they imagined.

In the midst of their loss, they trust me to care, dress, cuddle and talk to their baby which I have always done with love, respect and compassion, to help ease their pain in any way I can. I always treat babies with the dignity they deserve and use their name; these are simple acts that can feel incredibly significant for the parents, making special memories in the precious hours we have together will stay with the family forever.

I carry these babies and families in my heart always and feel blessed to have cared for them.

Sally Wisner – Midwife

I spent many years caring for bereaved families & looking after baby’s that had died. Not only did I try to facilitate the grieving process for the parents. It was my job to care for their precious baby too.

I would often spend many hours alone with their baby. I always had an element of love for them. Sounds weird I know! I would always use their name, touch them gently, talk to them and often, quietly sing to them.

I always used to sing a particular song to my own daughter when she was little. ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away’.

I would make sure they were clean (often bathing them if that was the parents wish) and dressed in the clothes their parents had chosen. If they left that decision to me, I would always dress them in something I liked. Always something soft.

I would make sure they were wrapped in a soft blanket, so it was nice against their skin. I would always ensure that anything the parents wanted to leave with the baby was placed next to them. Often a small teddy or a photo was close to them. When I’d arrange for them to go to the mortuary. I tucked them in tightly like I was tucking them into bed.

I’ve been known to visit them again hours or even days later in the mortuary, so they weren’t alone and to make sure they were still tucked up tight. I’d always tell them how loved they were and that I’d look after their Mummy and Daddy and that they would see them soon.

One baby who was full term, sadly, his parents rejected him. Devastatingly, they didn’t want to see him or speak of him. I felt I owed it to him to give him the mother’s love he would never have felt, her voice or her touch.

I spent the whole nightshift just me and him together in a room, I held him, talked to him, told him stories and read to him. I attended his funeral. Just me and the chaplain were there. I don’t know why but I had this overwhelming love for this little boy & asked if I could carry his coffin. I’d help bring this little boy into the world and I owed it to him to carry him to his final resting place. I’ll never forget that little boy!

Parents, always remember, we hold real love for your angel babies, and it is an absolute honour to be trusted with caring for them. We never forget them.

Professor Nicholas Embleton – Professor of Neonatal Medicine at Newcastle University and Consultant Neonatal Paediatrician

One of my earliest memories working on a neonatal unit (in the 1990’s), was of a nurse cuddling a baby when the mother left the room to attend to some other matter. The baby had died about an hour earlier. It just seemed like a normal thing to do. Since then, I have been involved (sadly) in the care of 100’s of babies who died and I have always felt proud of working on a great neonatal unit and being part of a healthcare system that genuinely wants to care.

I didn’t cuddle a baby who had died very often myself, but once I attended a stillbirth in room 7 on delivery suite. The mother had known he would be stillborn but asked for neonates to attend to reassure her the baby was stillborn. Shortly after delivery, the mother had to urgently go to the operating room (OR) for a massive postpartum bleed. There was no other family member. The midwife had to help get the mum into OR and I was literally left “holding the baby”. He was still warm of course, wrapped in a blanket, and just looked like he was asleep. I told the mum I would stay with the baby whilst everyone else attended to the mum. I’m not virtue signalling, 99% of neonatologists and 100% of nurses I know would have done the same.

I didn’t feel upset. The baby had probably died several hours before birth. I didn’t know the mum, but I remember feeling quite calm and reflective. It seemed like a profound thing to be doing. To hold someone else’s baby, someone I didn’t even know, and a baby who had died. There wasn’t really any alternative, although maybe someone else could have been found to hold the baby. But it didn’t feel right to any of us to leave the baby in the room on his own. The room was really quiet even though delivery suite was heaving. I remember looking at his face, going to touch his cheek, but then I wasn’t sure about touching him more – he wasn’t my baby, I knew nothing about him, and I didn’t want to start behaving as if I had some special relationship with him. After about 20 minutes I think a maternal grandma arrived and I spoke with her, handed the baby to her and left.

There’s something deeply profound about caring for babies who die. It feels so different to adult medicine. It’s against the ‘natural order’ of life for babies to die. I’ve come into a room when a nurse has been dressing a baby who had died and she was humming to him. After I removed an ET tube, I might often wipe the baby’s cheek with a tissue and maybe smooth their hair. I watched nurses’ bath a baby in exactly the same way as you would for any other. With warm water too. The baby still feels like a baby and not just a body. Emotionally as well as physically.

Anna Nella – Bereavement Midwife

I felt compelled to write about the love I have felt for all the little babies born too soon. I have been a midwife for nearly 30 years. My choice to become a bereavement midwife and care for bereaved families and their babies has been the most rewarding aspect of all.

There is a beauty in each little person I have met. When I am alone, I speak to them by name, snuggle them in the clothes their parents have brought or find options for clothes their parents might choose. I tell these cherished babies about their family and how loved they are. Each little action is intentional. I remember the things that are important to their families. I might sing lullabies or read bedtime stories; settle them with a tea light so they are not in the dark. I gain comfort in this profound sadness because I watch that love and care continued in the mortuary. These babies touch us; we do not forget their fleeting presence in the world nor underestimate the tragedy of a lifetime spent without them.

Dr Clair Evans, Consultant Paediatric and Perinatal Pathologist.

The role of a paediatric and perinatal pathologist in baby loss is to look carefully at every baby, no matter what gestation, ethnicity or cultural background.

When we undertake a postmortem examination, we take great care in how a baby is moved, how we undertake the examination and what tests we can do to try an obtain answers for the family.

We know that baby loss is devastating and something that is always with the bereaved loved ones no matter how far along the pregnancy, how close to term or how soon after delivery. We do our best to find an explanation for the baby loss.

A postmortem examination is not something that is undertaken lightly and we do not always find all the answers but if there is something found that can help and that may prevent the mother from having another baby loss, then it is worthwhile.

Heidi Beaven – Bereavement Midwife

When caring for our angel babies, I always make sure I get them ready for bed when their parents ask me to take them into our ‘butterfly room’. I tuck them in and talk to them. I’ll often say how much their parents love them and sing ‘twinkle twinkle little star’. On the day of their funeral, we always put a (battery) candle on in our office to remember them. We remember all our babies and always will.

Naomi Garton – Labour Ward Manager

I aim to treat all patients as if they were a member of my family. This includes bereaved parents and infants too.

When I have looked after babies whilst away from the parents I hold them with care, I will talk to them and will explain what I’m doing “let’s do some handprints for mummy and daddy to keep.”

One occasion always stays in my mind.

A patient came to delivery suite with bleeding 21 weeks gestation. She was very distressed and delivered rapidly after arriving. She knew the baby would die and couldn’t bear to watch it. She asked me to take him out of the room.

I took him out with another midwife, with tears in my eyes, I explained that we could bring him back if she wanted.

Together, we held him close until he passed. We each told him how perfect and beautiful he was, telling him he was so loved and so wanted. We took it in turns to hold him until his little heart stopped and we had a little cry.

The parents then asked to have him back. I just hope that she knew how much we cared for him in those moments. It will stay with me the rest of my life.

Rachel Crane – Bereavement Support Lead at Max’s Legacy

Although I meet families at probably the saddest times of their lives, I feel privileged to be able to support them and their little ones. I am there for as little or as long as they need me, to be their voice when they are struggling to find theirs. Any memory they would like to make will be done with the upmost respect and dignity, whether it’s reading stories, bathing them; every memory is treasured in my heart as well as theirs.

Their name will be always honoured; they will always be with us.

Megan Baker – Funeral Director at ‘Tender Funerals Mid North Coast’

Being trusted to care for a family’s precious baby is an honour and privilege that our team meet with deep reverence. We are like a bunch of doting Aunties and Uncles speaking with each baby, admiring how perfect they are, making sure they are as snuggled up and comfy as possible. We are hyper conscious of the fact this family has had to hand their baby over to people they don’t know to care for, so we want them to know just how important this role is to us. We are acutely aware of the heartbreak of the family and the unique grief they are experiencing and want to make these all too short memory making moments as gentle, meaningful and beautiful as possible.

Samantha Aspin – Funeral Director at Elite Funeral Services

Here at Elite Funeral Services, we are truly honoured to be the ‘go to’ funeral director in our area for baby loss. This is most likely due to our dedicated baby and young person’s resting room, designed as a nursery setting complete with a CuddleCot that was donated to us by a local charity following their own baby loss.

From the moment we take over care of a baby, they are cared for within our location with the utmost love and gentleness. We support families to spend time in our nursery setting and can support bathing and dressing if needed. Soft lullaby music is played whilst our chapel is in use and we talk to our guests, as we would with adults.

Where requested we will support the production of hand and footprints for families to keep. We have a full range of clothing available for families to change baby if wanted.

Following the care of a baby, all families are offered the chance to place a glow in the dark star on the nursery wall on our mural. This is a lasting reminder of the impact this little person has had on our service and a lasting reminder of the trust placed in us as professionals.

Jo and I feel deeply honoured to be trusted with a families most prized possession – their loved one. Whether this is an adult or a baby, we recognise the huge level of trust placed in us and never take this lightly. We are deeply grateful for all families that trust us in their darkest of times.

Anonymous – Anatomical Pathology Technician – Mortuary

It is devastating when this happens, but it is a real honour to be a part of such times. I would like you to be reassured that myself, and everyone in this team do everything in our power to help to do anything it takes to accommodate any wishes. We are gentle, sensitive, and very understanding. We have a non-spoken bond between us, and we all come together to do our best to help Mum, Dad, and family. The families are always in the back of our minds, and we continue to think of them as weeks, months and years pass by. It is rare and not an everyday occurrence for us here but please know the best hands will be looking after the precious little one.

Anonymous – Coroner’s and Public Mortuary Manager

From our perspective, caring for any babies that come into our care is something we take incredibly seriously. They are always treated as a baby would be, gently handled, carefully swaddled, and always with dignity. Any personal items, such as teddies or keepsakes, remain with them, and we are constantly mindful that they are deeply loved and part of a family. It’s something we all feel strongly about, and I think its important families hear that reassurance.

Abena- Midwife in Ghana

There was a pregnant couple who visited the hospital the day after the mother realized she hadn’t felt her baby’s kicks all day. She was worried, and the parents carried a heavy weight of guilt for not coming in sooner. We never blamed or criticized them for the delay. Instead, we met them with sympathy and encouragement, letting them know this was not their fault and that they did the right thing by coming in.

After induction, I held their baby and wrapped them with kindness and care, because to us this child was a precious gift, a life that mattered deeply to their parents. I only wish the couple could see how much we honoured their baby. In our hands, every baby is treated with love, dignity, and respect, no matter how short their time with us was.

Mabel – Midwife in Ghana

We acknowledge that bereaved families are still parents, even after child loss and their babies are humans. We want you to know we respect you and your babies at heart, always.

Justina – Midwife in Ghana

Compassionate care here an experience that isn’t easy at all. Talking to mothers when they’ve experienced baby loss, I realise how broken they feel and sometimes so alone. Anytime I meet such families, I share silent prayers for them.

I would like them to know that we as health professionals share in their pain.

Felicia – Neonatal nurse in Ghana

I would like to share how babies are cared for while they are in our hands.

I believe whether alive or dead, every baby should be treated with dignity.

I pay attention to the words I use whenever we experience the loss of a baby on the ward. I believe it’s necessary not to worsen already existing pain, so I do handle them with care, respect and love because I believe that baby isn’t a patient but someone’s joy and hope.

To all bereaved parents, I want you to know that your babies are not forgotten. We acknowledge you as parents and we love you. Sending you hope and strength.

Abigail Twumasi- Midwife in Ghana and part of the bereavement team at Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital

I’m excited to share some of care I provide bereaved families hoping it brings comfort to them. When there’s baby loss, my first thought is often about the profound pain, and heartbreak families experience when they lose a child.

Sometimes I just dream about the hopes and dreams they had for this child and how painful it is not to see those expectations coming to pass.

Often, I say silent prayers in my heart, that the parents find strength and comfort. Also, whenever they need answers, I try my best to explain things clearly to them so they can understand better.

I wish parents can see the care and tenderness in handling their babies. We do acknowledge they are humans and we treat them with respect. We are really trying our best here in Kath to ensure no bereaved family grieves alone.

To all bereaved parents, I would like to tell them that their babies mattered.

Your baby’s life no matter how long it was, is deeply appreciated.

Tabitha Stuthridge – Bereavement Lead Midwife

No one ever wishes to meet someone from the blossom team. A bereavement midwife. A bereavement MCA

We arrive in the moments that should never exist, when joy has been stolen, and time feels unbearably still. In those first fragile hours, we speak of things you never imagined; of seeing, and holding, of dressing, and loving, of photographs and prints, and tiny keepsakes made by trembling hands.

We talk of labour before there’s time to prepare. Of the blossom suite, and cold cots that cradle what love cannot warm. And we know, it feels wrong that this role should exist at all. Midwifery is meant for beginnings, for first cries, laughter, and the rush of life into waiting arms. Yet here, in this silence, we have found love in its purest form. Because we are blessed; blessed to walk beside families whose hearts have broken wide open and still somehow hold love enough for the world. You teach us what truly matters: gentleness, respect, compassion, care – the courage to keep breathing when breath itself is pain.

It is an honour, a sacred honour to meet your beautiful babies, to see their faces, to hold their weight in our arms, to help you gather moments and weave them into memory. Tiny hands, perfect feet, pressed into clay, into photograph, into forever. And please know this, we never forget. It is never just another day. No two babies are ever the same.

When the belt comes off, when the bun comes down, we cry for you. We carry your sorrow gently, tucked beneath our skin. We hold space for you, for your love, for your pain, for your beautiful child. And when you cannot speak, we speak your baby’s name. When you cannot hold, we hold for you. We remember. Always. We keep their story safe, their light alive, a small, steady flame that will never go out. Because every baby, no matter how briefly here, leaves fingerprints on every heart they touched, especially ours.

Laura Walsh – Specialist Swan Bereavement Midwife

Blackpool Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust

Working as a bereavement midwife is a privilege that I never take for granted. I often think about how lucky I am to meet and care for babies that so many others never get the chance to know.

During their time in hospital, I have the honour of holding them, talking to them, sometimes helping their families bathe and dress them, and making sure they are comfortable and peaceful. I always tell them how loved they are, because they are so so loved beyond words. Every tiny keepsake and precious item left by their family is treated with great care, knowing just how much it means.

When the time comes for them to be transferred into the care of our mortuary team, we make sure they are tucked up safely and continue to be cared for with the same love, dignity and respect they have received throughout their time with us.

These babies all leave a mark on my heart. Although my role is to support families through unimaginable loss, I feel truly privileged to spend even a small amount of time with their precious babies. It is a quiet, humbling honour that stays with me always ❤️

Christie-Ann Lang – Specialist Bereavement Midwife

Swansea Bay University Health Board

I have been a midwife for 16 years and a Bereavement Midwife for the past 9 years – Caring for a bereaved family and their baby is always something I have seen to be a privilege. You may be one of the few people who will get to meet a parents beloved baby.

The time spent caring for a family and helping them make precious memories while providing a high standard of clinical, individualised, holistic will help guide them and support them through their journey of grief and beyond. Ensuring all questions are answered to ensure informed decisions are made and supporting families with any requests they may have such as dressing their baby, family photographs, reading their baby a story or facilitating a walk in the park are all important in ensuring the most difficult time a family will dace is made just a little easier.

We as Midwives cannot change what has happened but by showing care, kindness, empathy and compassion we can make the most difficult of moments a little more bearable.

In loving memory of Arjun Patel – 18th August 2019.

Resources for families navigating grief: cuddlecot.com/grieving

Resources for free online bereavement care training: cuddlecot.getlearnworlds.com

In person study days: cuddlecot.com/face-to-face-study-days

Contact us at: info@cuddlecot.com