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Pregnancy loss, stillbirth and infant loss 👼

Heartbroken 💔

I’ve been going backwards and forwards about whether to write this, but I think I need to. Not just for me, but because if sharing what happened to us makes another mum feel more confident about speaking up when something doesn’t feel right, then maybe something good can come from our experience.

After three previous miscarriages, this pregnancy was incredibly precious to us. We were terrified, but hopeful. Every scan, every appointment and every little milestone meant so much.

When we found out we were having a little girl, it became even more real. We chose her name Millie-Rae Dando and started imagining our life with her. We bought little clothes, prepared her things and started getting excited about meeting our daughter.

But throughout my pregnancy, I carried so much anxiety because of everything we’d already been through. I was constantly conscious of every change and every symptom.

Then, in the days before Millie-Rae was born, something didn’t feel right.

I started experiencing leaking fluid, mucus and pain. The pain became more consistent and felt like period pains, alongside lower back pain. I sought medical advice. I spoke to my GP, had my urine checked and was referred to maternity. I went to the maternity unit, where my belly was checked, her heartbeat was listened to and I was reassured that everything looked okay.

But I had told them about the leaking fluid.

That is the part I keep going back to.

Because now I know what happened next.

The following night, things became much worse. I had been awake for most of the night with pain. My husband became so concerned that he called 111. I eventually managed to sleep for around two hours, only to wake up to find my underwear and panty liner soaked through with fluid.

And then, on 5th September 2026, i drove myself to the hospital as soon, then within hours I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl.

Millie-Rae Dando was born sleeping at 10:18am. 💔

I cannot explain what it feels like to give birth to your baby and know that you aren’t going to hear her cry.

To hold her, love her, look at her beautiful little face and know that you have to leave the hospital without your baby.

She was perfect. She was our daughter. She was so incredibly loved.

And now I’m left with so many questions.

I can’t stop wondering whether things could have been different if my concerns had been investigated differently. Whether the leaking fluid should have been checked more thoroughly. Whether I should have been monitored more closely. Whether there was something that could have been identified earlier.

I don’t know the answers to those questions yet.

There will be investigations and a post-mortem, and I know we need to wait for those answers.

But I also can’t pretend that I don’t feel let down by the NHS.

I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I spoke up when something didn’t feel right. I went to my GP. I went to maternity. I told them about my symptoms.

And yet here I am.

I’ve had to give birth to my baby girl and now I’m having to arrange her funeral instead of bringing her home.

I’m not sharing this because I want sympathy or because I have all the answers. I’m sharing it because I think women’s concerns deserve to be listened to, especially when we know our own bodies and know when something isn’t right.

Maybe nothing could have changed what happened to Millie-Rae. Maybe it could have. I simply don’t know yet.

And that uncertainty is one of the hardest things to live with.

For now, I am trying to take everything one day at a time. I’m grieving my daughter, trying to heal physically from giving birth, trying to process what has happened and somehow trying to make decisions that no parent should ever have to make.

Millie-Rae was wanted.
She was loved.
She was cherished.
She was our little girl.

She will always be our daughter, and she will always be a part of our family. 🤍

Born sleeping — 5th September 2026 at 10:18am.

We love you forever, Millie-Rae.
Mummy & Daddy 🤍👼🏻