Esme and the 5.1 million

This time last week I was attending the International Stillbirth Alliance in Madrid; an annual gathering of 450+ delegates – clinicians, charity officers, parents, researchers, academics, students and many more– all united in the cause of reducing the number of babies born still every year. It truly was an international gathering, with 39 countries represented from all four corners. It was an enlightening and uplifting experience to share the weekend with colleagues from as far afield as Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Australia, the US and of course Europe. 

Sharing details of the National Bereavement Care Pathway UK project I lead 

We heard speakers talk of new research into early signs of stillbirth risk, the socio-economic impact of stillbirth, improvement of standards and the impact on families and communities and much more; it was all about how we are making a difference – but yet how far there is to go. 

Listening to Dr Margaret Murphy from Cork talk about Education for bereavement care

Many of you reading this will be aware of the '15 a day' campaign – and hence the reason for my 15 marathons  in 15 months. That’s because 15 babies die every day in the UK shortly before, during or shortly after birth. That’s 5,000 a year or one every 90 minutes. It’s getting better – four or five years ago it was 17 babies a day, so the trend is good, but it’s still thousands of families every year devastated by the loss of a baby.

But at the conference another figure stood out. 5.1 million. Let that number sink in a moment. Five million, one hundred thousand babies around the world are born still every year. It’s an almost unfathomable number. Whilst the rate in the UK is around 3-4 babies in every 1,000 born, in many other countries such as South Africa the rate is nearly 30 babies in every 1,000, or 3%. That’s huge. In many places, it is even more commonplace than in the UK. 

But behind each statistic are the names of precious loved ones...

"The world is suffering this tragedy... at a rate of 14, 000 families every day"

This was brought home to me twice in quick succession. Firstly, on the Sunday of the conference, a very simple yet incredibly moving and inclusive ceremony was held outside the venue. In the warmth of the October sun anyone could light a candle, hang a picture, stand in silence, listen to a poem, deposit some white leaves and/or or quietly soak up the beautiful notes of the talented violinist playing in the background, as a memorial to all the babies who have died.  

Then the very next day back in the soggy UK. I took the day off and went for a coffee and chat with my wife, to catch up after a few days away. Having dropped our daughter at school we drove a couple of miles to a newly opened café we had wanted to visit for a while. Walking round the corner of the block towards the café front door, a hearse drove slowly by, containing the smallest pink coffin, wrapped by the most beautiful flower arrangement including one spelling the name ‘ESME’; it stopped us sharply in our tracks. What unimaginable sorrow must Esme’s family be going through on that murky Monday morning as they say goodbye to her? Gone are the hopes and dreams for her future – and gone too are the simple acts of family life such as dropping off a daughter at school, or a welcome home hug after a weekend away at a conference. Rarely has such an image brought us into such stunned silence. The death of a baby brings unspeakable sorrow.

And this is why I am running the marathons – to raise awareness and to raise funds for Sands – to help break the taboo of stillbirth, to help prevent stillbirth, to support those affected by the death of a baby. (We are already up to 25% of our target - huge thanks to all those who have contributed!) The second of these fifteen takes place this Saturday in Reading, at the end of Baby Loss Awareness Week. This is an annual, global occasion where from 9^th– 15^thOctober events are held, campaigns are launched, candles are lit, cakes are baked and runs are run. Above all, memories are shared and pauses held to reflect on those babies who have gone too soon. 

Ahead of next week's second of fifteen marathons, coming to the end of my
final 'long run' this afternoon through Southampton  

So as I run on Saturday I shall be remembering why I run - and for whom I run…for the 5.1 million babies worldwide and the 5,000 in the UK and their families…. for Hope, for Joshua, for Pippa, for Malachi, for Tilly, for Isaac… for Esme.