Callum shares how at 33 weeks pregnant, he and his wife were given the news that their baby boy Leo had severe brain anomalies resulting in a Termination for Medical Reasons (TFMR).

After losing Leo, Callum shares some of the valuable support he and his wife received from family and friends and how he’s also found joining Sands United Kent, where he can talk honestly about his loss extremely helpful. 

He also shares that he’s signed up to run the Royal Parks Half Marathon this October for Sands in Leo’s memory, and to use this horrendous experience for good to help other people going through baby loss.

“We lost our baby boy, Leo Thomas, at 33 weeks on the 5th of November 2025. He was our first child. We knew he had problems from his 20-week scan, but we thought that he would make it with some complications; anything between having club foot to something a bit more substantial. Sadly though, at 33 weeks, we were suddenly given the news that Leo had severe brain anomalies, and the complications were far more serious than we had first realised. 

We ended up having to have a Termination for Medical Reasons (TFMR) which was horrible. It had been a stressful, worrying pregnancy but my wife and I had got to a place where we were ready to deal with a baby that wasn't medically perfect, so to then be told he was so unwell was a shock and extremely painful. 

Since we lost Leo, we've had a lot of support. 

In the hospital a couple of days after we lost Leo, I was in a bit of a daze and looking for anything I could find that could help me make sense of what had happened. That’s when I landed on some Sands guides. Just realising that there was a whole group of people out there that have been through something similar and could help me and my wife navigate what lay ahead was a huge comfort in those early hours and days.

We have wonderful family and friends, and we experienced so much kindness. One kindness from my brother-in-law particularly still stays with me. On the day it all happened, we were going into hospital to get some MRI results that we thought would be okay, so we went in at 9am and were planning to go to work after, but it didn’t end up like that. Instead, we were on the labour ward by midnight that night. 

We’d just got into the delivery room when two minutes later a midwife came through with our hospital bag that we'd left at home. It had everything we needed - change of clothes and other things that we hadn’t packed ourselves yet like our phone chargers and it came out of nowhere. We found out afterwards that my brother-in-law had gone to our house, grabbed all the stuff we needed and driven 40 minutes to the hospital while my sister watched their daughter. 

When that suitcase rolled in, during what was the worst moment of our entire lives, I just thought oh my god we're not alone, there are people out there who will drop everything to help us. That level of practical support when we were going through the worst thing possible was incredible. 

Lots of other people in the early days were extremely generous with messages, flowers and things like meals - colleagues at my work got us a Deliveroo voucher because they knew we wouldn't want to go anywhere or cook. All of those things were extremely appreciated, really helpful and meant a lot at the time, but arguably what meant even more was three or four months down the line when we'd get a message from someone asking how we were, just out of the blue. One group of friends sent us another lot of flowers that said we’re still thinking of you. That was so nice because our loss hadn’t gone anywhere, so it was comforting to know that people recognised that and that all three of us were still in their minds a few months on.

I’ve also had support through Sands United Kent.

When I was looking at Sands stuff in those early days, I noticed the Sands United football teams. When I saw that I thought it might be something I’d like to try out so in January I sent a message to Sands United Kent which is near where we live in South East London. I had a lovely chat with one of the guys there and I started going along to their games. I play with them every other week now which helps me feel connected to Leo. We do a minute of silence before the start of every game, and I always spend that time thinking about Leo and all the other babies lost. 

The football is great but the real support came when I went for a beer with the guys on the team. It was during that drink that I had a revelation that I really needed this group of people.

When I sat down two of the lads asked me how I was doing and how I was getting on. I told them that it was hard but that my wife's amazing and that we were working through things and going to counselling. I then shared that one of the hardest things we've had to deal with since losing Leo is the fact that my older sister has had a baby as well. She had a healthy baby boy, which is delightful and we love him and them to pieces, but her pregnancy overlapped ours. We found out she was pregnant two weeks after we first found out that Leo had problems. I spoke to the lads about dealing with the complications of being extremely happy for my sister, brother-in-law and our new nephew, whilst at the same time knowing that Leo should be here too. When I shared with the lads that’s what we were dealing with, their reaction was ‘oh God that's so hard, I'm so sorry’, and that's the first time I'd had that reaction. Usually when I’ve told people my sister has had a baby, everybody says ‘oh that's great, are you excited to be an uncle?’, which I am, but I needed to speak to some people who understood what else was going on in my head and these guys just got it immediately. 

My wife is unbelievably supportive. She’s an absolute star and I couldn't have done any of this without her but knowing other dads who are in my boat is enormously helpful in a different way. Seeing them, playing a match, having a pint and conversation that can float between the World Cup, the game we just played, and honest talk about our losses has been extremely helpful for me. 

My wife and I talk about and think about Leo all the time but doing a regular thing like Sands football, that gives me that dedicated time to do something for him really helps.

Six months after losing Leo we posted on our social channels and my wife and I have both found a lot of comfort in sharing Leo publicly.

We told all of our loved ones and close friends about Leo relatively quickly and I told people who I’m close to at work but people in my wider circle didn't necessarily know I’d lost a son, so I always felt like I was playing two different parts. There was home me and then I was having to play ‘work me’ who hadn't been through all of this. So after six months, we shared more widely that we’d lost Leo on social media to try and bridge the gap between those two versions of ourselves. 

We both found it incredibly helpful that more people knew about Leo and our loss, and the outpouring of love and support we've had has been overwhelming and frankly, unbelievable. Since then, I’ve had a couple of instances where people have mentioned Leo’s name and I found that lovely, just the fact that people know his name and know that he exists as a part of our life is a big help. 

In the early days I wanted everybody to fully understand how horrible losing Leo was, but I’ve realised nobody can ever do that, so now I just want people to understand that it’s okay to say his name and talk about him like he's our son because he is. 

I’ve signed up to run the Royal Parks Half Marathon in Leo’s memory later this year.

I mentioned I was going to do the Royal Parks run for Leo to my three best mates and they all immediately said we'll do it with you. I told them you really don't have to but they said there's no chance you can stop us from doing this, which is really sweet, so four of us will run it together.

On the day my wife will be there, and friends and family have said they want to come and watch as well, so it should be a nice chance to remember Leo, especially as it won’t be far off a year since we lost him at the time of the run.

The donations and support I’ve had for the run mean so much.

It doesn't feel like I've raised the money, it feels like Leo has, which is lovely. One of the things my wife and I have always said, which is a happy thing to think about, is that Leo created love. We’ve felt a lot more love from friends and family because of what we've been through and what happened to Leo, and now he's also created a massive donation for a good cause which is great. 

I remember when I first signed up for the run saying to my friends that I wasn’t sure I can necessarily raise £1,200 to cover all four minimum entry amounts so they’d have to help me fundraise, but we got past £1,200 within 48 hours of putting our donation page online. Friends, family, work colleagues, people I've met once and people I've never ever met donated once we shared what happened to Leo. I had one stranger donate about £200 which is just unbelievable and so generous. It means the world.

One of the main reasons I wanted to go public with our story was because I found it supportive when people messaged me to tell me they’ve been through something even remotely similar, or knew someone who had. Just knowing other people who would at least half understand what I'm going through is something I’ve found a lot of comfort in, so when I posted on social media, I wanted friends, colleagues and people I know, to feel if the worst happened to them, that they could give me a text and know that I would be there for them. I've already had someone get in touch to share they’d experienced a loss more recently and being able to support that person meant a lot.

I want to use this horrendous experience for good and to help other people going through baby loss. 

Knowing the money we raise through our run will help other bereaved families and support Sands to do their work is great. In particular, I wanted to raise money for Sands because of all the research work the charity does and supports. During the process we went through with Leo we got to the very edge of medical understanding, and now we’re left with questions like were Leo’s problems genetic? The best answer we can get is ‘not as far as we know, but we don't know everything’, so helping to fund research is a big motivator for me raising money for Sands. Also, the work the charity does training people in bereavement aftercare is extremely important. We felt very lucky to feel incredibly supported by our bereavement midwife and the midwives who we went through labour with. They were all amazing and we learnt firsthand the importance of that care.

People don’t need to be scared of pregnancy and baby loss.

In my experience, it's okay to talk about and ask about it. If you know someone going through it, you don’t need to be scared of them or of saying the wrong thing. The pain of someone sending a bereaved parent a message and it not landing perfectly is much better than the pain of someone who you haven't heard from so it’s so important just to let people know you’re there. 

Sending a text that says something like, “I hope you're doing all right. No need to reply. I just want you to know I’m thinking of you, and here if you want to tell me how you are” goes so far. Trying and not doing it perfectly is okay, but not trying can be much more painful.

In the early weeks after losing Leo, I was sick of hearing ‘this will always be a part of you now,’ when I really didn't want it to be. 

We only lost Leo seven months ago, so it still feels very raw and very difficult, but it’s sort of okay because it has to be. The human body and brain can and does withstand it, somehow. It's horrendous but to other bereaved parents I’d say although your pain doesn’t get better, it does get easier to deal with as you grow around it. There is support out there so when you’re ready, go and find it, and accept it when it comes your way."