*The following story contains the description of the death of a baby, which some readers may find distressing*
Our first baby, Bella, was born in September 2022, shortly after I’d got married to my husband, George. We were incredibly fortunate as we didn’t have any issues conceiving her. She was an absolute little sweetheart and we knew we wanted more children. I got pregnant with Archie quickly. We were overwhelmed with joy.
There was nothing out of the ordinary and it was a very smooth pregnancy. All the scans were good, he grew well, and we’d done a non-invasive pre-natal test privately, which covers a large range of illnesses, just to be on the safe side. Everything came back fine, and we found out the sex.
Going from one to two children is a challenge, but we didn’t have to financially strain as we didn’t need a bigger house and car. We were deciding on names and buying new outfits because Archie was a different gender. My sister Anna was pregnant at the same time as me, and her baby was due a couple of weeks after Archie was born, so we went through it together.
I had a natural birth with an epidural at 39 weeks. It was a special moment as he lay on my chest as soon as he was born. I struggled a little with breastfeeding for two weeks, as I did with Bella. I gave it my all, but in the end I couldn’t get him to latch, so I moved on to formula milk. As I was born with only one arm, it made the positioning needed for breastfeeding more difficult. Archie was a very happy little person. I used to call him “my little man”; he was giggling, smiling, and growing well.
Life gets hard when reality hits. I remember reflecting back on our journey and remembering how lost we felt, and how lonely, isolated, and exhausted we were. I didn’t feel there were any tools or resources or community out there to help us build a survival tool kit. I wanted to change this.
We went up to Norfolk for a long weekend as we have family there, and a little cottage near Burnham Market. We visited George’s parent’s house and I remember telling his mother: “Archie has been a little bit quiet today. Not quite himself. He’s been a little bit sleepy.” But there wasn’t enough wrong to warrant medical advice. Unusually, he hadn’t finished his bottle, but I didn’t think too much about it.
We got home to our cottage at 7.30pm. George bathed Bella and I put Archie down in his cot in my room, next to my bed. He was sometimes a bit tricky to get to bed in the evening, but he went down a little easier than usual. I went downstairs. I cleaned the bottles, put the dishwasher on and went to bed. I checked on Archie and he was fine. Then I went to sleep. George slept in the next room because it wakes him up when I feed in the middle of the night.
I remember waking up bolt upright in bed in a moment of fright. I knew something wasn’t right. I leaned over to look at Archie, who was in his cot, and he was blue, cold and lying there motionless. I remember thinking, “Oh my God, he is dead”. I picked him up quickly and ran into my husband’s room screaming and shouting. This woke Bella up, who started screaming. George jumped up off the bed and I put Archie down on it. I remember thinking: “What the hell do we do?”. I couldn’t gather my thoughts quickly enough.
We called 999, and a woman on the phone told us exactly what to do. She made us lie Archie on the floor with the phone next to us so she could give all the instructions on how to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. While doing the resuscitation, the body would expand so I was hopeful he was coming alive again. But then I realised that he wasn’t.
Annoyingly, our postcode takes you to a house up the road, so George had to go out to stop the ambulance. The second I heard those footsteps coming up the stairs, my hope came back. “Now he’s in medical care, he’s going to be fine,” I thought. “I can stand back and it’s all going to be okay.”
I was screaming and crying in distress and was told strictly to get out of the way. The road outside was lit up with emergency vehicles including helicopters, ambulances and police cars. I sat there with my head in my hands hoping it was just a bad dream I’d wake up from. It’s such a car crash of emotions that I just wanted the ground to swallow me up.
George’s parents came over to look after Bella. I got into the ambulance and kept saying “Is everything okay?”. They couldn’t give me an update. At the hospital, I felt like an inconvenience as the medical team focused on helping Archie. I was in the corridor and let out a scream. I ran out across the car park where I had an emotional meltdown until this nurse came to support me and walked me back inside to the room where Archie was. Tons of machines around him were beeping. I curled up in the corner saying: “I just can’t be in here.” The nurse walked me out and she asked me: “Who can you call?”
I remember calling my sister Anna, who had just had her baby. It was about 5am in the morning. I called her about four times – and she eventually answered thinking I just wanted to have an early morning chat. “Archie is dead,” I said, and I dropped the phone. Then, in what felt like the next minute, she was sitting next to me.
Two doctors came into the room and asked for my approval to turn off all the medical support because Archie had died. George then arrived and we had two forensic police officers ask us lots of questions to understand what happened that night. Those few months waiting for the postmortem results are probably the hardest. I had every potential scenario running through my head. Had I missed something? Sadly, as a mother, you blame yourself. I felt responsible whether it was in my control or not. Even when we got the results saying that he was a very healthy baby and that there was nothing wrong with him and had died of SIDS.
I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to Archie. I think it’s one of my biggest regrets, as I don’t feel I have yet accepted his death. We exited the hospital at about 10am and left Archie there. Once outside, we had no support. All of our family put their lives on hold for us for a good two to three weeks, and my therapy was walking along the beach in Norfolk. It’s where I spoke to Archie – and still do. We had the funeral and also gave him a christening. He was cremated and he still lives with us at home now in London.
I was navigating this monumental moment of grief and guilt, unknowns and uncertainty. It was hard for my sister as she had a newborn and was also in distress at what had happened. I was in such a dark place, I couldn’t leave the house. I didn’t want to eat or see anybody. We didn’t get the support we needed and luckily a family friend provided us with a therapist through her charity. Life gets hard when reality hits. I remember reflecting back on our journey and remembering how lost we felt, and how lonely, isolated, and exhausted we were. I didn’t feel there were any tools or resources or community out there to help us build a survival tool kit. I wanted to change this.
I’ve co-founded the Baby Loss Club, which will be an accessible online platform that combines community, expert-led resources and access to therapeutic support. We have also launched Bundle Club – a premium raffle to provide a constant income stream for Baby Loss Club. We’re in the process of launching it early next year, and it will ensure that anyone affected by any form of baby loss doesn’t feel alone, invisible, or unsupported. The foundation is on a mission to fund one million free therapy sessions for people affected by baby loss. Building something in Archie’s honour to support others has also been a way to celebrate him.
I got pregnant again a few months after Archie died. It was the only way I could get through the situation. Teddy, my son, is now nearly four months old. He’ll never replace Archie, but being pregnant with him just gave me a sense of hope, and the excitement of something to look forward to. Teddy is now at the same age as Archie when he died. I’ve been absolutely terrified it will happen again. Having a baby after losing one is something that takes its toll. Psychologically, it is one of the toughest things to experience. But through all of this, I still go for walks on the beach and talk to Archie – and that gives me great comfort.
To donate to Josh Patterson's Sky’s the Limit challenge to fund therapy sessions for families affected by baby loss in memory of Archie Oliver, please visit Just Giving now
