The event a couple of Saturdays ago is still on my mind. It was our annual Baby Loss Memorial Ceremony at St Peter’s Baptist Church.

There were about 50 people there, some who I knew, and who had lost babies at various stages of pregnancy. And what struck me most, afresh, was the profound grief and sadness that comes with losing a baby at whatever stage.

Although the event was one of remembrance with the lighting of candles and placing written memories on a Memory Tree, the grief was palpable and the tears flowed.

All had come together to remember unique lives of their babies. It was hard to watch and hard to lead the service, but I hope it created a space of remembrance and healing.

And there were people at various stages in their life. Young couples whose loss was recent; grandparents who were suffering with their children; brothers and sisters, born before or after the loss; and those who had lost a child long ago before the advancements in caring for those who have had lost babies.

I put me in mind of the lady in her 70s who, a few years ago, approached me asking to help her find where her daughter was buried. When her child was born in the 1960s the baby was whisked straight away from the mother and buried – never to be seen again.

Things have changed. Now there is a specialist Bereavement Midwife Team at our hospital; two special rooms where bereaved parents can go and not hear the crying of babies being born next door; the offer of a funeral service; and many voluntary groups who support those who have experienced baby loss.

All good things. All things which can make the tragedy a bit more bearable. But none of it can take away the pain and sadness expressed by couples in their loss.

But remember, a bit of kindness and understanding can go a long way. You won’t know what to say, but that doesn’t stop you being with people and listening to them. Recognising their baby and shedding tears for them. It all counts.