Emily Mullins, 40, from Fernhurst, West Sussex, has turned her own unimaginable loss into a way to help other parents deal with tragedy
On holiday in Italy in 2019, I basked in the sunshine, feeling blessed. At 36, I had a gorgeous husband, a two-year-old daughter and a career as a solicitor with a music company.
We lived near my parents in a pretty village close to where I’d grown up.
Johnnie and I wanted another baby, thinking that then we’d have everything. Although sitting there that day, I did wonder: ‘Life feels so perfect now. Should we just keep it that way in case anything changes?’
My head didn’t stand a chance against my heart and I was soon pregnant. At seven weeks, I paid for a scan because I couldn’t wait any longer to see my baby. And the moment I did, I felt love surge through my body. ‘I will always keep you safe,’ I promised.
During the pandemic, which struck soon after, I was constantly instructing Johnnie to disinfect and scrub everything with bleach. ‘I have to protect this baby’ became my mantra. Scans showed all was well, and at 20 weeks, we told Georgina she was having a brother called William.
In the bath, she would put toys on my tummy and giggle when she saw him kick. On my lap at story time, she’d tell me: ‘William’s kicking my back. He’s listening, too.’ We played ‘mummies and babies’ with her dolls and she helped me line up nappies and fold baby grows in his nursery.
Georgina’s birth had been magical, so on that Friday morning before August bank holiday 2020, walking beside a lake with Georgina and a friend, I wasn’t worried when I felt pains. ‘Are you okay?’ my friend asked. ‘You’re walking a bit funny.’
‘Fine,’ I breezed. ‘It’ll be hours yet.’ But when the contractions intensified, I drove home, left a message for Johnnie, a land surveyor, at his work telling him to get to the hospital. Then my mum came over to drive me there while my dad stayed with Georgina. ‘I’ll be back with William at suppertime,’ I said, kissing her.
Arriving at the hospital, Johnnie was waiting for us. By now, I could feel William’s head pressing down, and when I reached the delivery room, I was in so much pain, it took five minutes to get me on the bed so I could be examined. I didn’t know it then, but the midwife pressed the emergency button and a doctor and senior midwife arrived. ‘We need you to push,’ I heard. Seconds later, my mum, who was filming on her phone, said: ‘You’ve done it! He’s here.’
A MEMORABLE MEETING
I reached to pull William on to my chest, but I only touched him for a second before hands swooped in to cut the cord and rush him away behind a cu
