Hannah has written a poem about her journey that she wanted to share with you.

Two lines appeared, 12 weeks had passed, attending our scan seeing your heart beating fast, losing you was something I no longer feared in my mind you were here to last, or so it appeared.

Not one baby but two! Many emotions, excitement and fear to name just a few. I pondered would the confetti be pink or be blue, not that it mattered we just wanted you.

Each appointment attended you grew bigger and stronger. Checking each week to see your growth. A sprinkle? A jellybean no longer, you were now a fruit loaf or so it shows.

Mummy was far from glowing but none of that mattered our family was growing! From changing cars and moving home, doing each of this - the innocence of the unknown. Sheer bliss. 

Each night myself and your daddy would speak of our future, a house full of boys and a hell of a lot of noise. A house full of fun and laughter, our home the place we would never feel alone. Our happy ever after.

At six months pregnant I became unwell, Braxton hicks or labour I struggled to tell, the tightenings came and went and the text to your daddy was sent and said, “please don’t worry but get home and hurry!” 

Arriving to find that you were coming, it’s too soon we cried, and just at that 20 or more people arrived. Midwives, doctors and specialists, with looks of concern muttering medical jargon, the future uncertain and hard to imagine.

One push, two, three and four, you were here and whisked straight out of the door, the madness turned to silence, the minutes felt like hours. I looked at your daddy with a face of a superhero stripped of his powers.

The days sat between both incubators in the ICU admiring each tiny feature, picking out bits of me in you. Told to go rest for the long road ahead, we were woken in the night and round we flew, your incubator hood raised many specialists surrounded you, breaking the news “there was nothing they could do”. Why us? Why you?

With Oliver gone our only hope was that Charlie grew strong, a couple of days of ups and downs. Scans, bleeds and many a transfusion consultants informed us we had to make a decision. The devastation that this was our position. As parents you only wish to take every ounce of pain away, at that we decided no more needles, no more X-rays, back with his brother was the only way.

I sat in the shower rubbing my stomach where you should have been, unable to comprehend this wasn’t all a bad dream. Witnessing precious moments of parents in the newborn bubble, going home in the car with a baby to cuddle. Our time had come, two boxes in our arms filled with footprints and charms precious memories for us to keep, dreading each person that we would meet.

Returning home, the home bought for five the one where you would grow, play and thrive. Pacing the room where you should have lay “I just want my babies” I’d beg and I’d pray. Nobody’s pregnancy should end this way.

I’d blame myself for the hurt this had caused, lying in bed I turned and I’d toss. I should have been able to protect and nourish, ensuring you both would gracefully flourish. Yet here I lay looking at myself in such dismay feeling hurt in every way.

Trying to learn this new me, the parts that are damaged and no longer work. Doing everyday tasks I’d often feel stuck, unable to remember or think things clearly, unable to express to those I love dearly. In losing you I lost me, but the future will be bright again, just wait and you’ll see 🤍

Following our loss, Sands were our initial first port of call for support

We often seeked out support through online platforms, reading through similar stories, which helped us understand that all of our thoughts and feelings during this time were normal and valid. Unfortunately, locally, we don’t have a Sands group but that hasn’t ever stopped us in knowing we can turn to Sands at any point.

I completed the Walk 100k in September challenge for Sands and described this to others by saying “this may not seem like much to some but right now, stepping over the threshold of our door each day feels like a challenge when going through the loss of our babies, so this was my own personal Mount Everest.” I raised £2,123 for this challenge.

My father-in-law saw on social media about Sands 2k a day in January and very quickly signed up to do that along with his sister Amanda and my little niece Daisy and they've raised a total of £2,615 for Sands.