My Story
My name is Kerry, and I founded the charity Precious Wings after my son Toby was stillborn in 2011. Our lives changed forever that day. Instead of carrying home my gorgeous newborn baby boy to his excited big brother, I simply carried the shattered remains of my life, with no idea of how to piece it together again. I felt so alone, so scared and remember thinking that I would never feel happy again.
At home we had a nursery prepared, baby clothes in the cupboard and a car seat ready to be installed. Our loneliness was compounded by the fact that talking about the death of a baby or a child is still so taboo in our society today. People didn’t know what to say to us and some stayed away altogether. When Toby died, I had a strong desire to make some meaning out of our utter devastation. This is where Precious Wings was born.
​In my professional role, I am a Nurse Practitioner working in paediatric palliative care at the Queensland Children’s Hospital. Prior to losing my son, Toby, I spent many years in paediatric emergency, walking alongside families who had lost a child. I thought I understood grief. I had supported families as they created memories, said their goodbyes, and navigated the overwhelming next steps. But nothing prepared me for my own loss.
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When Toby died, I found myself completely unprepared. Despite my experience, I had no idea what to do. I was in shock, physically overwhelmed—I remember vomiting and feeling utterly lost. A compassionate midwife took photos for us and captured Toby’s hand and footprints, for which I will always be grateful. But in those moments, I was too scared of traumatising my then three-year-old son, so we didn’t bring him into the hospital to meet his brother. This remains one of my biggest regrets. Now, at 15, he often tells me he wishes he had a photo of himself holding Toby. I needed guidance, someone to hold my hand, provide choices, reassurance and help me to create precious memories.​​
Toby remains a central part of our family. We celebrate his birthday every year and speak of him often. But the way we were supported in the hospital shaped our grief journey profoundly. Despite being in a large tertiary maternity hospital, we had to endure the sounds of newborn cries, surrounded by families relishing in their first moments with their babies, while we grieved ours. Many staff were unsure of what to say, and some lacked even basic empathy. The social worker who visited the day after I gave birth seemed unprepared, unconfident, and nervous. She handed us a list of 40 funeral homes and simply said, “Pick one.” She provided brochures on Centrelink payments but offered little else. Her approach felt impersonal, transactional—she was checking off a list rather than truly supporting us. This experience made me withdraw; I didn’t want to engage with her or the hospital once we left.
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When I got home, I desperately needed to know that what I was feeling was normal. Even though my friends and family were supportive, I couldn’t connect with them. Instead, I spent hours trawling the internet, searching for stories from other bereaved parents, looking for someone—anyone—who understood this pain.​
Losing Toby changed everything for me, both personally and professionally. It made me reflect deeply on my role as a nurse and the profound impact healthcare professionals have in these intimate, devastating moments. Walking alongside families in their darkest hours is an immense privilege, but it is also daunting and heartbreaking for clinicians. Yet, despite years in paediatric care, I had received little education on grief, loss, and how to truly support bereaved families.
This experience ignited a determination in me: to improve education and training for healthcare professionals so that they are better equipped to support grieving families with compassion and confidence.
Equally, it reinforced the critical need for bereaved families to connect with others who truly understand. In my experience, families often do not want to return to the hospital. Instead, we must build community capacity to support them throughout their lifelong journey of grief.