Please say his name.

When a baby dies, people often stop talking about them. But for many bereaved parents, hearing their child's name is one of the most meaningful things someone can do.

I'm Alexis, and on the 19^th March 2026, my partner Charlotte and I lost our beautiful little boy, Sage. He was born sleeping at 22 weeks, after a healthy pregnancy that had been filled with so much love, excitement and anticipation.

Sage was our rainbow baby, our first son, conceived through IVF, and he was so incredibly wanted and loved. We had spent months imagining our lives with him, talking about the things we would do together and looking forward to becoming a family of three. We never imagined that we would be planning his funeral instead of bringing him home.

Since losing Sage, we've had to learn how to navigate a world that has carried on as normal, even though ours has changed completely. There are so many things about losing a baby that nobody can prepare you for, but one of the things I've found particularly difficult is how uncomfortable people can become when it comes to talking about him.

And look, I understand why. When someone loses a child, I think there's a natural instinct to avoid bringing them up. People worry that mentioning their baby might upset them, remind them of what happened or bring back painful memories. They don't want to say the wrong thing, so sometimes they decide it's safer to say nothing at all.

But I've started wondering: who is that silence actually helping?

Because the thing is, I haven't forgotten that Sage died. There isn't a moment when I'm happily going about my day, completely unaware of what happened, until somebody says his name and suddenly reminds me. I know he's gone. I live with that reality every single day, and it hurts more than I can explain. And yes, hearing his name might make me sad sometimes. But I'd much rather have a conversation about Sage that ends in tears than feel like everyone is too afraid to acknowledge he existed.

I think sometimes we're so worried about making someone uncomfortable by mentioning their baby that we forget how uncomfortable it can be for a parent when everyone seems determined to avoid talking about them. For Charlotte and me, hearing other people talk about Sage means more than I can properly explain. We love when someone brings him into a conversation, asks us about him or simply says his name without hesitation. We love when people remember important dates, when they tell us something made them think of him, or when they acknowledge him as our son in the same way they would if he were still here. Because he is our son. That hasn't changed.

One of the hardest things about losing a baby is knowing that so few people got the chance to know them. Sage didn't get to meet our friends or wider family in the way we'd imagined. We don't have years of stories about his personality, his first words or the funny things he did growing up. We have our memories of pregnancy, the time we spent with him after he was born, the photographs we treasure and all the hopes we had for his life. And sometimes, that can make it feel as though we're the only people who really know he was here.

So when somebody else says his name, it matters. It's a reminder that he isn't just a part of our past that everyone else has quietly moved on from. He's someone people remember. Someone whose life mattered to more people than just his two mums. And perhaps most importantly, it gives us the opportunity to talk about him.

I think that's something many bereaved parents can relate to. There can be this strange feeling of wanting to talk about your child all the time, while also worrying that other people don't want to hear it. You find yourself wondering whether you've mentioned them too much, whether you're making someone uncomfortable, or whether you should just keep those thoughts to yourself. And I think that's incredibly sad, because no parent should feel that talking about their child is something they need to apologise for. Sometimes I want to talk about how much I miss Sage. Other times I want to talk about how beautiful he was, how much he looked like me, or something that reminded me of him that day. 

Not every conversation about him has to be sad. I don't want every mention of Sage to be met with an awkward silence or a sympathetic look. Sometimes I just want to talk about my little boy, in the same way any other mum would talk about their child. I want people to feel comfortable asking about him, and I want to be able to answer without feeling like I've suddenly made the conversation too heavy.

Of course, every bereaved parent is different. Some people might not feel ready to talk about their baby, particularly in the early days, and others may prefer to keep certain memories private. There isn't one right way to grieve, and I would never want to suggest that everybody should feel the way Charlotte and I do. But I do think there's a difference between respecting someone's wishes and making the decision for them that their baby shouldn't be mentioned.

And for anyone reading this who has lost a baby and feels the same way, I hope you know that wanting to talk about them is completely understandable. Whether your loss was recent or many years ago, whether you have lots of memories to share or only a few, you shouldn't have to feel awkward about bringing your child into a conversation.

For those who haven't experienced baby loss, I think one of the most helpful things you can do is simply make room for those conversations. If you're unsure whether someone wants to talk about their baby, you can ask. You can say, "I'd love to hear about your baby, if you'd like to talk about them." You can ask what their name means, what they looked like, or whether there's a particular memory they'd like to share. You don't have to have the perfect words. You don't need to know how to make somebody feel better, because the truth is, you probably can't. And that's okay. Sometimes all we're asking for is the opportunity to talk about someone we love.

I also think it's worth remembering that acknowledging a baby shouldn't stop after the first few weeks or months. In the beginning, people often rally around you. They send messages, flowers and cards. They check in and ask how you're doing. But as time goes on, those conversations can become less frequent. People return to their routines, and understandably, life carries on.

For us, though, Sage is still missing from every part of the life we thought we'd have. He'll be missing from Christmases and birthdays, family holidays and ordinary Sunday afternoons. We'll always wonder what he'd be doing, what he'd look like and who he'd be becoming. And I know we're not alone in that. There are so many parents carrying the memory of a child through all the ordinary moments of life, long after other people have stopped asking about them.

That's why I think remembering matters so much. Not just on anniversaries or during Baby Loss Awareness Week, but on an ordinary Tuesday when something reminds you of them. When you see their name somewhere, remember a conversation about them, or simply find yourself thinking about their family. Those little moments of acknowledgement can mean more than people realise.

And if hearing their baby's name brings a parent to tears, please don't automatically assume you've done something wrong. Sometimes those tears are simply what happens when someone acknowledges a person we love and miss so desperately.

I can't speak for every bereaved parent, but I can speak for Charlotte and me. We don't need people to protect us from Sage's name. We need people to remember that he has one.

His name is Sage. He's our son, and we will always be his mums.

So please, say his name.