Grieving and Loss: How To Find Life and Purpose Again

We’ve always chosen to chase our dreams. Not just talk about them—live them. One of our boldest decisions was taking our children out of school to travel the world. It wasn’t easy, and we heard all the usual reasons why it couldn’t work: not enough money, not enough time, too many responsibilities, children needing stability.

We had those same barriers. But we became relentless problem-solvers. We figured things out.

Until we faced the one thing we couldn’t fix.

At 36 weeks pregnant, we lost our son. The grief that followed shattered everything we knew. It wasn’t just loss—it was trauma. I nearly lost my own life. Our hearts broke in ways we didn’t know were possible.

This blog isn’t about the loss itself. It’s about what came next. It’s about slowly, painfully finding our way back to living. It’s about how to move forward with grief, even when your world feels like it’s standing still.

The Early Days of Loss

In the beginning, I didn’t fully understand what had happened. I was in denial, drifting between consciousness and pain. I lay in a hospital bed, staring at the wall, trying to escape back to before the unimaginable

My face was salt-crusted from crying. I couldn’t speak without tears. I couldn’t listen without blaming myself.

What got me through were the people who showed up with no agenda—just love. Hospital staff, family, friends. They helped me find words for the ache in my heart. They held space for the guilt, the shame, the “what ifs.”

You need those people. And sometimes, they’re not the ones you expect. Grief can reveal the kindest hearts in the most surprising places—and the silence of others can be painful. Not everyone knows what to say. But those who do… you’ll never forget them.

If you’re in crisis, please reach out. Get support. Even in the darkest times, life can surprise you with strength you didn’t know you had and beauty you thought was lost forever.

There are many local charities that reached out to us and we’ve remained in contact with, friends of friends who could relate to our story or larger charities who offer someone to talk to. We used support from sands.org.uk

One Week Later: When the World Keeps Spinning

Grief fog settled in. The world kept turning, but mine was frozen in place.

I’ll never forget stepping out of the hospital into a world bursting with spring flowers. Nature had moved forward. I hadn’t. People chatted about their plans, and I silently screamed, How can life go on like nothing has changed?

But that’s what grief teaches you—life does go on. Whether we’re ready or not.

What helped was getting outside. Sitting in nature. Watching birds, bees, and butterflies. Tiny glimpses of beauty.

We started seeing butterflies everywhere. It felt like our son was near. Butterflies landed on us, flew past us at just the right moment. We started visiting places to find them, and even created a butterfly garden at home.

It was something to focus on. A beautiful, bittersweet distraction. And slowly, those moments became little threads pulling us back into life.

A couple of beautiful gifts that brought us small moments of joy:

• Personalised Butterfly Candle
• Saying Goodbye: A Personal Story of Baby Loss and 90 Days of Support To Walk You Through Your Grief
• Butterfly Garden With Caterpillars

Grief and the Systems That Don’t Stop

Registering our son’s death, planning a funeral, telling people what had happened—these were some of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

We walked into the registry office just as another couple arrived to register a birth. That visual contrast is seared into my memory.

But I’ll say this: the people we met during these moments—staff, celebrants, and others—offered genuine compassion.

We kept the funeral simple and personal. We sat alone, just the two of us, and made it our own. I read a letter to our son. My husband hand-carved two foxes—one for our boy, one for him. Now, foxes always remind us of him.

I couldn’t bring myself to personally share the news. I asked others to speak for me. Repeating it felt impossible. That’s okay too. Lean on your people.

The Pain of Anniversaries and Special Dates

Every “first” after loss hurts.

We counted the months. We marked his due date. His first birthday. Now, his second.

The lead-up to each date was emotional and raw. But they became part of his memory. And celebrating him helped us more than we ever expected, especially our older children.

On his second birthday, we adopted an Arctic fox from a local sanctuary. We got a little plaque and a family pass. We watched the foxes play, had cake, and shared a picnic. We cried, but we also celebrated. If that doesn’t feel right for you, that’s okay. Some days, you just need to hide, cry, and grieve. There is no right way to grieve—only your way.

Choosing to Live Again

There is no “moving on” from the death of a child. That hole in your heart will always be there.

But one day, I realised that life was continuing, whether I joined it or not. I had a choice.

I began choosing life. For myself. For our children. For the memory of our son.

I took on a charity swim and raised more money than I ever had before. It was a powerful way to honour him, especially because I felt him with me in the water. It helped my body, my mind, and my spirit.

I’m now planning more fundraisers. I want to build a website for bereaved parents. I want to raise money for research and support. I want to create something meaningful from this loss.

What might your grief inspire you to do?

Final Thoughts: Healing After Loss

Grief doesn’t follow a timeline. It comes in waves. Some days you’ll feel strong. Other days, it will bring you to your knees.

Let it.

Cry. Breathe. Ride the wave. Then let it pass.

You feel this pain because you loved deeply. That love doesn’t go away. It can’t be replaced. But it can become your fuel.

Your strength.

Your purpose.

You don’t have to “move on”—but you can move forward, carrying their memory with you. And in doing so, you may just find beauty again. Not despite the loss, but because of it.

Written with love and compassion, in the hope that you’ll find your way to make the most of life after loss.

This blog is one of its kind on our current website; many of our other blogs are focused on the way we live. The freedom we have to travel and enjoy the life we have carved out. If you’re interested and want to stay in touch, then send us an email or sign up for our email series.