Honouring Oaklee: Georgia’s story

Here, Georgia, 23 shares in her own beautiful and emotional words, the shock, confusion and shame of her baby boy, Oaklee, being stillborn at 36 weeks and 4 days, and how Petals Counselling saved her

My beautiful son was sadly stillborn at 36 weeks and 4 days on 10th March 2025. The silence in that scan room, followed by the sound of my mother-in-law screaming when the sonographer told us there was no heartbeat, and me saying ‘I want my mum and dad, over and over again,’ still echoes inside my head. But even so, I’d go through the experience of having Oaklee all over again, if only the ending could be different.

I found out I was pregnant in July 2025. I was 22, and although my partner, Madison and I had been together for four years, it was unplanned and came as a huge surprise. I’d never had that maternal instinct people often talk about, but the moment I saw that positive test, everything changed. I knew right away that becoming a mother was all I wanted, and I would do absolutely anything to love, protect and care for this little one for the rest of my life. Madison, was absolutely over the moon, too.

The first two trimesters of my pregnancy went exactly as you’d hope. Early on, we started buying bits for the baby, painting the nursery, dreaming of what our family life would look like. Our families were just as thrilled as we were. I didn’t know much about risks or complications, my scans and appointments were all positive; there were never any red flags or concerns raised by the midwives or doctors.

From delight to devastation

At 36 weeks and 4 days, I went for my routine growth scan. My partner was working away, so my mum-in-law came along with me instead. For most of my pregnancy, my baby had been sitting breech, straight away, the sonographer said that the baby had turned and was head down. We were so relieved and happy that we cheered.

But then the atmosphere in the room shifted. The sonographer kept moving the probe and checking different areas. I could tell instantly that something was very wrong. After what felt like forever, he said “I’m sorry, but I can’t find a heartbeat.” I kept thinking surely this can’t be right, maybe they’ve made a mistake. A second opinion confirmed the heartbreaking news.

Lost in loss

We were taken to a private, quiet room where my mum-in-law called Madison to tell him. I couldn’t speak to him; I had no words. He begged his mum to pass the phone to me, but I had nothing left in me.

Eventually Madison and my family arrived, and the medical team talked me through what would happen next. I wanted a C-section; I just wanted this nightmare to be over, but they explained that for my safety, a natural delivery was the recommended and safest option.

I felt so young, confused and completely lost. I had no idea you could lose a baby this late in pregnancy. It felt impossible to process. Right from that moment, I carried this heavy feeling that I had let my family and my partner down; that I was the reason everyone was hurting so much.

When labour started, it was so smooth and calm – not at all how I expected it to be. When Oaklee was born, the feelings were so overwhelming I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Madison gently cleaned him, dressed him in the little outfit we’d picked out months before, and sat holding him, talking to him and staying close while the midwives worked quickly to help me, as I had suffered a heavy haemorrhage straight after birth.

Then we were left in our own private space, just me, my mum and my partner. I honestly couldn’t have got through those hours without them by my side. They held my hand, wiped my tears, talked to me. Their presence was the only thing that kept me grounded.

Being held

For eight hours I was cared for, treated and monitored, and for all that time I wasn’t ready to see or hold Oaklee. When I finally felt strong enough, he was the most beautiful, perfect little boy I had ever seen. He had the most peaceful face, tiny fingers and toes, soft hair and he just looked like he was fast asleep. I held him close, stroked his skin, kissed his forehead and whispered everything I’d ever wanted to say to him. We spent three whole, precious days together as a family in that room. We took photos, we read to him, we played music we’d chosen for him, we wrapped him in blankets. Every single minute was so special, nothing else mattered. Even though my heart was breaking, it was most beautiful time of my life.

When it was time to say my final goodbye, I knew I wanted to walk him down to the mortuary so I could be with him right until the very last moment. The corridor was cold, the air had a distinct smell that still haunts me sometimes, and walking through those doors felt like my whole world was falling apart all over again. When I laid him down and kissed him one last time, I couldn’t leave him. I kept walking back and opening the door: I just wanted one more look, one more touch, one more kiss, I didn’t want to let my baby go. In the end, my partner had to physically pick me up and carry me out of the room because I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away from him.

The days and weeks afterwards felt impossible to navigate. Nothing made sense anymore. I felt like I’d failed my son, my partner and my whole family, and I couldn’t see a way out of those thoughts no matter what anyone said to me. I struggled to sleep, I couldn’t eat properly, I found it impossible to concentrate or find any joy in anything at all. I struggled deeply with the fact I’d never get to do all the things I’d planned with him, never hear him cry or see his smile, and that everyone else was celebrating babies while I was grieving mine.

A safe space to share and feel seen

I had no idea to survive this experience. Thankfully, my bereavement midwife referred me to Petals. I honestly believe it saved me in so many ways. Before counselling, I felt like I had to hide my pain or put on a brace face for everyone else, but in our sessions, I could be completely honest and raw. It was a safe place where nobody rushed me, nobody made me feel like I was grieving ‘too much’ or ‘for too long’, that my loss didn’t matter, or that my son wasn’t important.

My counsellor, Dorne, helped me understand that everything I was feeling was normal, even the darkest and most confusing emotions. She gave me space to talk about every detail, memory, fear and regret – things I felt too scared or upset to say to anyone else. She gently helped me work through the guilt I carried, showed me that it wasn’t my fault, and that being a good mum meant loving him as much as I did.

My partner wasn’t initially keen on counselling; he did it purely for me and I’m so grateful that he came. It gave him a safe, non-judgemental place where he could talk freely himself. I’d no idea what he was going through or how much pain and heartbreak he was carrying too because he felt he had to be strong and steady just for my sake. Our sessions together gave me the chance to understand his feelings and see that he was hurting just as deeply as I was, even if he showed it differently. It brought us closer than ever and helped us heal side by side.

Following investigations and tests, the doctors had confirmed the cause was blood clots found within my placenta. By the time we received these full results three months later, I had already fallen pregnant again, which meant they were unable to run further tests. However, the medical team were able to put strict preventative measures in place straight away to keep me and my new baby safe. This meant daily injections and multiple different medications throughout my whole next pregnancy.

Pregnancy after loss

Once my initial 5 counselling sessions came to an end, and as soon as I fell pregnant, I reached out to Petals again and continued my journey with Dorne throughout my rainbow pregnancy. She helped me work taught me gentle ways to cope with the constant worry and anxiety. I attended sessions right from the early weeks until after my baby arrived, and every single meeting gave me strength, hope and the courage to keep moving forward.

Dorne helped me realise that being scared didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful, that grieving Oaklee didn’t mean I couldn’t love my new baby fully, and that I was allowed to hold all these different emotions at the same time. When I finally got to show her my rainbow baby, whose due date had been Oaklee’s birthday, I cannot even begin to explain the pure happiness, pride and joy I saw in her face.

Honouring Oaklee with love and hope

I now have my beautiful little boy, Tatum Oaklee, who was born on 21st February 2026. He is healthy, happy and the absolute light of our lives. Bringing him home was the most wonderful feeling, but it also came with mixed emotions – joy tangled with sadness, relief alongside lingering fear, and wishing more than anything that Oaklee was here with us too.

Thanks to Petals – and with Dorne’s support – I’ve been able to embrace motherhood fully, enjoy every precious moment with my son, and find meaningful ways to keep Oaklee as a central, loved part of our family and our story. I still have hard days and moments where I miss him more than words can describe, but I now have the tools to handle those feelings. Oaklee was perfect in every single way; he is loved and remembered every single day and always will be. I don’t think I could have got through the experience of having Oaklee, and my subsequent pregnancy, without the help and reassurance Petals gave me.

Things are different to how I once imagined they would be, but life is beautiful, and I will always be thankful for the support I received that allowed me to get to where I am today.