So here we are

Well, it’s here! The website, I mean. If you’re reading this, then you’re probably one of the many people who have supported me in different ways to make Felix’s Flame a reality. Whether you’ve shared my posts, listened to me talk about my ideas, offered advice, helped behind the scenes, or simply believed in what I was trying to create, I genuinely cannot thank you enough. I couldn’t have got here without the support of so many people, and it feels quite surreal to finally be able to say that Felix’s Flame has its own little home on the internet.

I wanted my first blog post to be about how

this all came about and, perhaps more importantly, what I hope Felix’s Flame can become.

Where it all began:

Felix was born on Christmas Day 2022. It was the most painful day of my life, and I’m sure I will eventually write another entry about Felix, his birth and everything we experienced, because there is far more to that experience than I could ever fit into this first post. But what happened following his death was traumatic too. The poor communication from the hospital, the lack of clear support and information for families who believe they have experienced harm or failures in NHS care, and the overwhelming isolation that followed made an already devastating experience even harder to navigate.

For a long time, I genuinely believed that maybe I was the crazy one. I questioned myself constantly and wondered whether I was asking too many questions, whether I was overthinking things or whether I had simply got everything wrong. Eventually, I gave up. I stopped pushing, stopped asking questions and tried to carry on with life while feeling completely alone in what had happened.

Then I met a group of families campaigning for their babies’ deaths at the same hospital or experienced harm, and something changed. For the first time, I found a group of people who understood something that was incredibly difficult to explain to anyone else. I found community, a space where I felt validated and, perhaps for the first time since Felix died, a sense of belonging. The trauma that all of us have experienced is indescribable, and I don’t think there are words that could ever properly explain what it is like to find yourself in that position.

Finding my voice:

Something that came up again and again during our campaign was just how difficult it could be to get organisations and services to speak openly about what happens when maternity care goes wrong, or to stand alongside families who were campaigning for accountability and change. There were times when organisations that you might expect to be willing to talk about poor care, listen to families or support a campaign simply weren’t able or willing to get involved. I understand that there are often reasons why organisations have to be careful about what they say or become involved in, but for families already feeling ignored, the experience of having doors closed or people looking away could be incredibly isolating.

It also highlighted something much bigger to me: how little accessible information and support there can be for families who have experienced baby loss from poor care, have been harmed during their maternity care or are questioning what happened to them or their baby. When you are already grieving or trying to process something incredibly traumatic, having to find your own way through complaints, investigations, questions about your care and trying to understand what happened can feel completely overwhelming.

The families I have met on this journey are incredible. I would probably describe them as strong, because they absolutely are, but I think there is something more complicated about that word too. They are strong because they have had no choice but to be. They have been left to navigate situations that no family should ever have to navigate, often feeling unheard, isolated and as though what happened to them is something that shouldn’t be spoken about. I don’t believe families should have to become experts in complaints, investigations, maternity care or their own rights simply because something went wrong. I don’t believe they should have to shout to be heard. And that is something I want to change, even if it is only in a small way.

From an Instagram page to something bigger:

Felix’s Flame began as an Instagram page, created to raise awareness of baby loss and to make families who have experienced it feel heard. Over time, though, it has grown into something much bigger than I originally imagined, and I feel like my purpose and vision have become much clearer.

I want Felix’s Flame to advocate and campaign for families who have experienced bereavement, poor care and harm. I know that entering this space may be controversial to some, but I hope that as many people as possible will welcome Felix’s Flame into these conversations and help us begin opening up about topics that are often incredibly difficult to talk about. This isn’t about creating more division or telling families what they should think or feel. It is about making space for conversations that already exist, but that too often happen behind closed doors.

What I hope Felix’s Flame can become:

I want Felix’s Flame to be practical. I want to create simple, accessible guides that give families the information they need without expecting them to spend hours searching through different websites trying to work out where to start. I want to provide useful signposting, share research and information, highlight organisations and services that may be able to help, and create resources that families can return to when everything else feels overwhelming.

But I also hope Felix’s Flame can help bridge the gap between families and the hospitals and services caring for them. I am not here to suggest that every healthcare professional or every maternity service gets things wrong or doesn't want to learn from mistakes. I know that there are many compassionate, dedicated people working incredibly hard to care for families, often in very difficult circumstances. My concern is what happens when communication breaks down, when families don’t understand what has happened to them, or when something goes wrong and they are left feeling that they have to fight to be heard or gain any accountability. I believe there is an opportunity to improve that communication for everyone, and I hope Felix’s Flame can play a small part in helping families and healthcare services to change this.

Ultimately, I would love Felix’s Flame to be a place where families feel informed and supported, while also helping to encourage more open, supportive and transparent conversations between families, healthcare professionals and services.

Baby loss charities and organisations provide vital support to bereaved parents, and I hope Felix’s Flame can work alongside as many of them as possible. Many of the grassroot charities I have connected with over this last year have been instrumental in helping me set up Felix's Flame and campaign tirelessly for improvement within the baby loss and birth trauma sector. This isn’t about replacing the amazing work that already exists by so many across the UK. It is about adding another voice, another resource and another place for families to turn when they don’t know where to start. I hope that by bringing together information, resources, research and the experiences of families, we can help people feel a little less alone and a little more informed.

For the families who helped me find my voice:

I want to dedicate this to the families of Truth For Our Babies – Sussex. Without them, I honestly don’t think I would have found my voice, let alone found the courage to set up something that could hopefully help other families find theirs.

We met in the most devastating of circumstances, but somewhere along the way, you became friends. I’m incredibly grateful for the community we found in each other, for the conversations, the support, the understanding and for having people around who didn’t need me to explain every feeling or every part of what we had experienced.

I hope Felix’s Flame can carry a little of that feeling forward. That feeling of finally finding people who understand, of knowing that you aren’t completely alone and of having somewhere to turn when you don’t know what to do next.

This is only the beginning, but I’m so proud to finally have Felix’s Flame here.

For Felix, always.

Beth xxx