Written by Jane, co-founder of TLCco and mum to Ava and Hugh.

October is Baby Loss Awareness Month.

And while it’s often spoken about as a time for remembrance, I’ve come to realise — it isn’t really for those of us in the loss community.

We don’t need a day, or a month, to remember our children.

We remember them every day — in every quiet moment, every milestone missed, every family photo that will always be one face short. They’re threaded into everything we do, even when we don’t say their names out loud.

This month, in truth, is for everyone else.

For those lucky enough not to have walked this path — the friends, colleagues, relatives and strangers who may never know what it’s like to hold their child and then have to say goodbye.

It’s for them to learn, to lean into the discomfort, and to start understanding what it really means to support someone living with this kind of grief.

Because baby loss isn’t just sad — it’s isolating. It’s catastrophic.

And while awareness months can’t take that away, they can make it a little less lonely for the next family who finds themselves here.

If You’re in the Loss Community

If you’ve experienced baby loss, please know this: you don’t have to participate. You don’t have to post, or light a candle, or explain yourself. This experience is deeply personal and ever-evolving. Grief changes shape over time — and so does the way we move through these moments.

For me, each year has felt different.

In year one, I was still caught in the surf of emotions — trying to find my footing, searching for anyone who could show me what moving forward might look like. I lit a candle on the night of Wave of Light, clinging to the idea of connection in the darkness.

In year two, I couldn’t do it. It was all too much. Baby loss stories were everywhere — on brand pages, in social feeds, across media — and I found it deeply triggering. None of the stories reflected my experience, and somehow that made me feel even more alone. So I quietly stepped back from social media for the month and gave myself space to breathe.

This year, year three, I’m just sad.

Sad for every family who has joined this unspoken community — including, this year, one of my closest friends. Sad for those who I’ve met, only through also experiencing the loss of a child and we work through each complicated milestone together.  Sad for the women I've met in our village, who I've learned have to walk this path. 

And, sad that in so many ways, we still have such a long way to go in how we talk about grief, loss, and love that never ends.

So if you find yourself unsure how to acknowledge Baby Loss Awareness Month, maybe just start by learning. By asking. By remembering that this is a kind of pain that never fully heals, having another child (or other living children) doesn’t ‘fix’ you — and that even a little understanding can go a long way.

For those lighting candles on October 15 at 7pm for the Wave of Light — I’ll be quietly lighting mine too.

Here in Australia, we’re among the first in the world to begin this global hug because of our time zones, and I kinda love that. I love that we start the ripple — one that remembers some of the most important people in our lives, and whose ripple of impact continues long after the candles go out.

Ava’s ripple is TLCco.

If you’d like to share your baby’s name or simply light a candle with us on October 15, you’re welcome to leave a comment on our Instagram post or reach out via hey@mammamingle.com.au.

We’ll be lighting ours, too — for all the babies loved and remembered within our village and beyond.

If you need support

If this has brought up big feelings, please know you’re not alone — ever. There are people ready to listen, any time of day or night.

• Red Nose Grief and Loss offers 24-hour phone and online support for anyone affected by the loss of a baby or child. Call 1300 308 307 or visit rednosegriefandloss.org.au.

• Lifeline provides free, 24-hour crisis support and suicide prevention services. Call 13 11 14 or visit lifeline.org.au.

• And if you ever feel unsafe or it’s an emergency, please call 000.

You are seen, you are loved, and your story matters — always.