Roisin Nicholson
From Stillbirth to Healing: Roisin’s Story of Love, Loss and Resilience
Roisin’s story begins with love, adventure and the hope of a family.
Originally from Belfast, she met her husband while travelling in Australia. They spent long hours working side by side on a farm, slowly moving from friendship into a relationship that would eventually see them return to the UK, study for their careers and plan for a future together.
When the pandemic closed Australia’s borders, their plans to return were put on hold. Instead, they decided to start a family. Like many first‑time parents, they believed things would go smoothly and at first, they did.
Roisin became pregnant within a few months, and her pregnancy was considered low‑risk. She wasn’t sick, felt well and every appointment reassured her that all was normal.
But in hindsight, she realises there were signs that something wasn’t quite right.
The Pregnancy and the Silence of Reduced Movements
Roisin remembers her bump being small and her baby boy, Arlo, being less active than her friends’ babies at similar stages. Midwives reassured her that every baby is different and since she was healthy and low‑risk, there was no reason to worry.
At 24 weeks, she went to hospital with reduced movements but was told everything looked fine.
By 31 weeks, just as she and her husband had taken a final camping trip before their baby’s arrival, she noticed the movements had slowed again. Following advice, she tried all the usual tricks but still felt uneasy.
She called the hospital and was told to come in for checks.
Her husband waited in the corridor because of COVID restrictions.
Alone in the room, Roisin listened as the midwife searched for a heartbeat. The Doppler picked up her own heartbeat, but not the baby’s. They brought her husband in and took her for a scan.
The sonographer told them there was no heartbeat. “I remember screaming,” Roisin said. “It was a primal sound. I just kept asking them to check again.”
In an instant, she was catapulted into a world she had never imagined, one she didn’t even know existed.
Giving Birth After Loss
After learning that Arlo had passed away, Roisin and her husband were given two days before returning to the hospital for induction. She described those days as unbearable. Carrying a baby she knew had died, coming home to a quiet house and seeing the car seat and pram waiting by the door.
When they returned to the hospital, the bereavement midwife cared for them throughout the day. The labour progressed quickly, and Roisin gave birth to Arlo later that evening.
He was growth‑restricted, as they later learned but perfect.
They held him and took photos.
Roisin’s parents flew from Belfast and met their grandson, and the family spent a few precious hours together before saying goodbye.
Looking back, Roisin wished she had spent more time with him, taken more photos, and known about services like Remember My Baby to have professional photographs taken.
Arlo was cremated a week later after a post‑mortem in Newcastle confirmed the cause of death: blood clots in the placenta and a long, hyper-coiled umbilical cord that had compromised blood and nutrient flow.
Chromosomally, he was perfect.
The loss wasn’t just of a baby, it was of a future, a version of life that no longer existed.
Grieving Together and Apart
Grief showed up differently for Roisin and her husband.
As a therapist, she wanted to talk and process. He needed to work with his hands and keep moving.
“I wanted to sit in the feelings,” she explained, “and he wanted to get back to the workshop. We grieved in totally different ways.”
In time, she learned that neither way was wrong. Grief doesn’t follow one pattern. Some people cry, others go quiet. Some need connection, others need space. What matters most is compassion for yourself and for each other.
Pregnancy After Loss
After months of waiting for test results, Roisin and her husband were told that the placental issue was likely a one‑off.
There was no underlying clotting disorder or genetic cause. With mixed feelings of fear and hope, they decided to try again.
When she found out she was pregnant with her daughter Nia just five months later, she expected relief but instead she felt terrified.
“I thought it would make me feel better,” she said, “but it actually made me feel worse.”
She spent most of the pregnancy convinced she would lose this baby too. Every scan, every appointment, every quiet moment felt like holding her breath.
She took progesterone and aspirin as precautionary measures and attended Tommy’s Rainbow Clinic in Manchester for extra monitoring.
At 38 weeks, Nia was born via emergency C‑section after her foot became stuck in the cervix.
For a moment, Roisin feared history was repeating itself. But then came a cry, the sound she had longed to hear.
Holding her living daughter brought overwhelming joy and unbearable grief all at once. The last time she had held a baby, was Arlo.
A Miscarriage She Didn’t Know Was Happening
In 2023, while breastfeeding Nia, Roisin’s period hadn’t yet returned. When she began what she thought was her first postpartum period, she noticed the bleeding was unusually heavy.
A pregnancy test, taken almost to rule it out, came back positive.
She was miscarrying a baby she didn’t even know she was carrying.
Roisin was already bleeding and there was nothing she could do. It was such a strange experience because she didn’t even have time to get attached or process it.
The miscarriage happened during a family trip in their camper van.
She bled for days, physically and emotionally drained, and only when the bleeding persisted did she return home for medical checks.
Everything resolved naturally, but the emotional impact lingered. It was a reminder that loss doesn’t always come with warning signs.
A Son After Loss
A couple of months later, Roisin became pregnant again, this time with her son, Sonny.
From early on, she knew he was a boy. His pregnancy mirrored Arlo’s in small ways: similar cravings, the same early nausea. It brought comfort, but also fear.
Doctors monitored her closely, and when an ultrasound at 38 weeks showed the baby lying sideways, she was booked for an immediate C‑section.
Just three hours later, Sonny was born safe and healthy.
Finding Meaning and Honouring Arlo
Today, Roisin is a therapist supporting others through baby loss and pregnancy after loss. She lights candles for Arlo, keeps his photo beside his siblings’ photos and talks about him openly.
Her daughter knows his name and sometimes points to his photo, asking gentle questions in the way only children can. “She’ll say, ‘Where is he?’ and I’ll just say, ‘He passed away.’ I’ll tell her more when she’s older,” Roisin explained.
She honours him not only through memory, but through action, raising awareness, sharing her story, and helping others navigate the darkness she once faced alone.
What She Wants Others to Know
Roisin’s message to others experiencing infant loss is simple but powerful: “Your grief is valid. You don’t have to rush it. You don’t have to make it acceptable for anyone else. There’s no timeline for healing.”
She also wants society to understand that stillbirth is not just the loss of a baby, it’s the loss of an entire future.
“It changes who you are,” she said. “People see the stone drop but not the ripples. The grief touches everything like your relationships, your work, your identity.”
Through her honesty and empathy, Roisin reminds us that grief and joy can coexist. That healing doesn’t mean forgetting. And that even in the deepest heartbreak, love continues to grow.
Follow Roisin on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roisinnicholson.therapy/
Roisin's website: https://www.babylosstherapist.com/