New Year's eve, a day when everyone is celebrating the end of the old and the dawning of the new. There's drinking, partying, catching up with the people you love, and a sense of hope in the air.

The 31st December 2023 should have been a wonderful night. After 5 years of infertility I was finally pregnant with our little baby, and in my 24th week feeling like we were on the home stretch,

But, instead of watching the fireworks from the warmth of our living room we saw them out of a hospital window where we were sat, alone, with our baby. Elian was stillborn.

He was a tiny, perfect baby. In many ways his delivery was just like any other baby's, and in the days afterwards we spent time with him. Memorising his face, and desperately trying to make memories.

A huge part of this time was the memory box provided by the hospital. It had clay for taking his hand and footprints, an inkless print kit, a little candle and a book for us to read to him.

The prints that we took are on our mantlepiece to this day, and the book that we read to him is now read to our daughter as a way of keeping his memory alive.

We celebrate his birthday on the 31st, and this year I wanted to mark the occasion by releasing a song I wrote in his memory and raising some funds for charity in the process. The charity I have chosen is 4Louis, who do incredible work across the UK for bereaved parents. One of their primary services is providing memory boxes to hospitals, just like the one we used.

They also provide privacy prams which help with the transport of the baby from the birthing unit to the mortuary. Our journey to the mortuary is seared into my brain; Jai carried Elian in a moses basket covered by a quilt. People in the corridors were trying to get a peek of the cute newborn baby, obviously not realising the situation. I spent the whole walk terrified that someone would congratulate us, or ask to see him.

A simple thing like a privacy pram gives parents a little bit of dignity at one of the worst times of their life. 4Louis is a charity that clearly thinks about the parent, and the trauma. They listen, learn and respond to lived experiences and constantly strive to improve services for bereaved parents.

Yesterday's Child

I wrote this song in the February after Elian's death. Jai had gone back to work and the house was so so quiet. I was more aware than ever that there wasn't any baby cries. The house, and life, just seemed so empty.

I wrote this song in an hour, in a pure outpouring of grief. It's a reflection of me before Elian, of how profound loss felt back then, and how trivial those losses now seem after his death.

The first time I performed it in public I cried the whole way through. Although it doesn't make me cry as often these days, I always include it in my set when I can, as a way of keeping him alive and talked about.

My biggest fear after his death was that he would be forgotten, and lost to time. I use my music as a way of coping, but also as a way of remembering him.

A beautiful side effect has been meeting so many people who have found something in this song, and to all of the parents who have come to talk with me about their children who are also loved deeply and whose memories are held close.

If you have listened to the song, please consider making a donation to 4Louis via this fundraising page.

If you email me a screenshot of your donation confirmation I will send you a discount code for a FREE download of the song from bandcamp.

Dannysionedmusic@gmail.com

bandcamp https://dannysioned.bandcamp.com/track/yesterdays-child

music video https://youtu.be/QrpJ-oU6Sz0?si=bld0ExEktR3kUK9B