Baby loss: How a manager’s kindness made the unbearable more bearable

When my wife, Sarah, fell pregnant during our honeymoon, our plan to build a family together couldn’t have got off to a better start.   

Seeing that positive test, the feeling was electric. It was Christmas and we shared the exciting news with our immediate family – both sets of parents were understandably delighted at the prospect of a first grandchild. 

As the weeks went by, I found my thoughts at work wandering away from daily planning meetings to consider life as a father and covertly re-read the company Shared Parental Leave policy for the umpteenth time.  

Everything is awesome, until it’s not. 

At eight weeks, Sarah started spotting and we visited the hospital’s early pregnancy unit, somehow still hoping for the best.  

There, a sonographer gently shared the heartbreaking news that she couldn’t find a heartbeat and we were sent home for nature to take its course. Over the next few days it felt like our hopes and dreams were figurately and literally going down the toilet. 

Watching someone you love suffering with the physical and psychological pain of miscarriage is heart breaking. It’s cruel, it feels unfair, and as I kept all my own pain to myself, it felt lonely. 

Over the next few months we sadly became all too familiar with the early pregnancy unit, or ‘the misery clinic’ as we’d dubbed it. We’d been lucky enough to fall pregnant again quite quickly. But after a few weeks, the spotting started again.  

The doctors couldn’t locate a pregnancy and we were thrown into a period of wait and see, with the threat of it being ectopic now hanging over us.    

While an understanding manager granted Sarah time off, I carried on going to work like nothing had happened. Staying strong and being a rock felt like the best thing I could do for the both of us. 

Then I went on a work night out to take my mind off things. After a few rounds of drinks I soon opened up to my boss and cried. 

Acts of kindness aren’t celebrated enough. Of course, children are told to be kind, and religions the world over are built on a foundation of kindness, but when you find yourself at a genuine low point and someone is sympathetic and caring, it really helps lighten the load and can make any miserable situation feel more bearable.  

During my emotional outpouring, my boss insisted that I didn’t come back to the office until I was ready. He reminded me that nothing at work was more important than this.  

After another week, an ectopic pregnancy was confirmed, which doctors hoped would resolve naturally, with regular blood tests to check what was happening. But all the time lurking in the background was the threat of serious surgery and the risk of being unable to conceive naturally in the future. 

It was a new low. 

Nevertheless, we put on smart clothes and brave faces for a family wedding (Sarah’s hospital notes in her clutch bag should she turn for the worse) and cancelled a holiday abroad. Instead we took ourselves off to a cottage in Devon for us both to take some time alone together. 

Thankfully, the threat of surgery passed and Sarah recovered. Later that year, she fell pregnant again and we finally experienced a straightforward pregnancy, albeit tinged with deep anxiety. Our daughter Beatrice followed, her name aptly meaning ‘bringer of joy’. 

Throughout our annus horribilis, neither of our workplaces had a formal pregnancy loss policy. With no official safety net, we both felt extraordinarily lucky to have such sympathetic and caring managers who were incredibly understanding, giving us the space and time we needed to recover. 

Paid time off to deal with such profound life events shouldn’t be a company lottery or dependent on having a kind and understanding line manager.  

Any organisation that truly cares about its people should have a clear and supportive baby loss policy in place. We also can’t expect every manager to be informed and sensitive during a personal crisis, so we must make the time to train them in how to be. Not just because it looks good when attracting new talent, but because it’s the right thing to do when life gets hard.  

That’s why I’m proud to have helped update and signpost our Dentsu UK & Ireland baby loss policies so it’s clear for all current and new employees what they are entitled to following a miscarriage, stillbirth, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy or termination. 

·        It’s now policy in the UK that dentsu will provide up to 2 weeks paid leave for employees (including partners and those with a surrogate) if you suffer a miscarriage at any stage in the pregnancy – no questions asked, meaning either partner can self-certify without the need for a fit note.  

·        Clearly there’s no time limit on the grieving or recovery process, so if you require additional time there is also the option of paid compassionate leave, sickness absence, our bereavement policies, and extended unpaid leave.  

·        If you had planned to take maternity or paternity leave and have suffered a stillbirth, you are entitled to take statutory maternity leave and statutory maternity pay, as well as two weeks’ statutory parental bereavement leave and pay and paid compassionate leave.  

·        We also offer a variety of practical and emotional support, including: EAP service, NABS, mental health first aiders, a well-being hub and our occupational health team.  

·        There is also support and check ins in place for employees returning to work after the loss of a child, and for employees looking for help in how they can support someone they know through the process.  

Thankfully, my wife and I now have two fantastic children – our son Henry joined his big sister just before the first lockdown. But the pain of that unbearable year remains. I don’t often think about it but when I do, among my thoughts is a sense of deep gratitude to that manager who was kind when I needed it the most. I hope that in talking about it now I can help remove some of the taboo and possibly make it the tiniest bit easier for someone else in our industry.

I know first-hand how painful these experiences can be when shrouded in silence, so if you’re able to share your experience and take part in Mediatel’s anonymous research on this topic, then the link to their short survey is here.

Will Pitman is head of internal comms at Dentsu UK & Ireland