Help& SUPPORT
Self help
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Since my angel baby went to heaven, I felt that I had lost my way in life. It was only due to help and advice that I have been kept from going insane. In the initial stages, we found help from a local bereavement group, who allowed us to move forward.
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I was lucky to have a loving wife and a supportive family in my darkest of hours, with a professional on standby for when times just got too much to handle.
Since we have become stronger and have moved into a better place, I felt it was time to help others. We did this by raising funds and giving to other charities who could give professional help and support, as well as researching the issues. Visit link
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On one of the visits to the bereavement councilor revealed that she wanted to find a way of starting a fathers group, as there were nothing available in the area, this laid the seed and I looked at ways of setting one up, the format couldn’t be of a group of men sitting around chatting in a hall, this wouldn’t have worked for me and I would of run a mile just thinking about turning up.
With the retirement of the Snowdrop bereavement nurse and councilor, I knew we needed a solution. This was helped when I received a call from Snowdrop, I was asked if I would like to have an informal chat, this was a perfect opportunity to share ideas and thoughts.
The idea grew, and several meetings later, both Snowdrop and ourselves came up with a workable plan. We was hoping to setup a number of groups, primely it was more of a social gathering for fathers, where we aim to work on causes rather than just talk in a circle of chairs, if we wanted to chat and share our feelings, that is welcomed, but not essential.....
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The group became groups; dads only and families friendly sessions, social gatherings and individual goals and tranquil past times, all the activities to bond new friendships for people who has suffered the turmoil of child loss.
We are currently working out all the kinks, talking to a focus group to brainstorm all our ideas before publishing a list of available groups.
These are not professional counseling groups, they are run by volunteers and bereaved parents who have gone through the loss of a baby and ready to support you.
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What Surviving Looks Like—Now
Years later, survival doesn’t look like it did in those first days. The tears may not come every day. But the ache—the knowing that someone is missing—is always there. It lives in the empty chair at the dinner table. In the birthday that doesn’t get celebrated. In the passing thoughts of what if they had grown up?
Some days are soft. Others are sharp. You might find yourself laughing—and then feeling guilty. Or remembering a detail and suddenly gasping for air like it’s all brand new. That’s the thing about grief: it doesn’t follow a straight line. It loops. It fades, then flares.
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People Expect You to Be “Over It”
There’s often a quiet, unspoken pressure to move on. To stop talking about them. To “focus on the good.” And maybe you do those things. You build a life. You show up for work. You celebrate the holidays. But “moving on” is a myth. You don’t move on. You move with it. The grief becomes a part of who you are.
And if people don’t understand that? That’s okay. You don’t need to explain your grief to anyone who hasn’t walked through it.
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What Helps (Even If It Doesn’t Heal)
Over time, you find your own ways to carry the loss. Maybe it’s in lighting a candle on special days. Maybe it’s in speaking their name aloud when you need to. Maybe it’s in helping others who are grieving. Or maybe it’s just in giving yourself permission to still miss them deeply, without shame.
Community can help—especially with others who understand this kind of loss. So can therapy, journaling, art, prayer, nature. There’s no right way. The only “right” way is your way.
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You’re Still Here
And that matters. You have survived something that many people fear even to imagine. That survival is not weakness—it is strength. It’s a quiet, steady defiance against despair.
If you are years out from your loss and still grieving, know this: nothing is wrong with you. Grief this deep never fully goes away because love that deep never does either.
Your child mattered. Your grief is sacred. And your survival—however messy, however quiet—is an act of love.
To the bereaved parent reading this: