Aaron

Earlier this week Cristiano Ronaldo announced that his baby boy had died at birth. Ronaldo was expecting twins with his Spanish partner Georgina Rodriguez. In his tweet Ronaldo said -
“Only the birth of our baby girl gives us the strength to live this moment with some hope and happiness.” adding “Our baby boy, you are our angel. We will always love you”.
That baby boy was one of 13 children in the UK who died at birth that day. That’s 4,500 every year. Although some of those tragedies happened as a result of medical conditions, many remain unexplained, leaving parents with numerous questions which might never be answered.
On this day, 41 years ago, our family had a similar experience, when our first son, Aaron, was stillborn. We were working with the Ugandan church at the time. I had remained in Uganda, while my wife had returned home to have the baby. I had travelled out to Kenya to stay with friends we had come to know during our time in Africa, before beginning my journey home for the birth.
I still recall receiving the telegram conveying the news, handed to be by my hosts. As I tried to take in the significance of the words, - I’d never heard the word stillborn before -they hugged me and said “We are so sorry for your loss. We have no words to express how we feel but be assured of our love and prayers”.
The next few weeks introduced me to an area of life for which few people are prepared. How to talk to some one who had lost a child. We appear to have developed no appropriate language to engage with the subject. Even the expression, “You had a stillbirth”, feels clinical, focusing on the medical event rather than acknowledging the life lost.
Many people offered us support, some trying to be positive -reflecting that we were still young and could try again for another child. Others, less well equipped perhaps, offered commiserations on “our wee accident”, while a few even crossed the road when they saw us in order not to have to engage in conversation on such a taboo subject. That was over 4 decades ago, but the taboo remains. We don’t like to talk about death. So - why not focus on life?
Here's a few personal reflections on what you might do in these circumstances. Start by saying you are sorry that for the loss of the baby. If you know the person well, maybe ask did they have a name for the baby? If you are comfortable, enquire whether they got to see the baby and hold it. Remember above all else that a baby was expected, carried with love and delivered. There has been life.
And, on the first anniversary of the baby’s delivery, maybe contact them– as your support might just show them that you too remember their precious baby.
Happy birthday, Aaron.