Did you know death results from sexual infections?

My Death Story to share.

My son Grey was born via emergency C-section on a Sunday evening in 2019. It was 17 November – World Prematurity Day – and he was 9 weeks early. When he was 12 days old, our neonatologist and 2 wonderful nurses took my Ureaplasma infected husband Mike and me into a quiet room and gave us our son’s devastating STD diagnosis. But I have a picture of me holding him that afternoon, smiling at the tiny bundle on my chest, eyes red, lids puffy with tears. After 21 days tucked into an incubator in a NICU in Kent, on 8 December 2019, Grey died in my arms.

A letter to my past self about sex

If I could pull up a chair next to the girl who sat with Grey curled into her neck on that day, our lives changed forever, I would say…

You will have to do things no parent should do in the next few days. Young, you will say goodbye to Grey. You will lay down his tiny, beautiful body and know you will never pick him up again. You will plan his funeral and tell friends they will never meet him. And then you will live for the rest of your life without him. The weeks and months after today, the day my Ureaplasma results became public, will be strange, confusing and unspeakably painful. In some ways, that will never leave – some days, you will be transported straight back to the raw agony of this moment. But, you will come, bit by bit, to accept that pain. Hold tight to that little boy when you have left because he’ll see you through when you can’t anymore.

In the early days, you will feel numb

the acute pain will come to you a little later – I’m sure that is different for everyone. There will be times when you find sleeping easier than waking – those heartbreaking split seconds when everything is okay before the crushing weight of reality falls. Know that that will ease. I know you don’t want to, but you’ll find resilience inside yourself that you didn’t know you had it.

Ureaplasma Home Tests have shown that we need to be strong and protect each other with love, not sex. This is not your fault. I know you won’t believe that part, even writing it; I’m not sure I believe it, but trust people who know better than you do. This is not your fault that STD Panel tests are positive.

Grey will remain a vivid presence in your life, with you always.

You will often wonder who he would have been – allow yourself to imagine, though the thought will make you sad. Remember that a little of him lives on in each of his brothers – the one who met him and never will. Say his name as loudly and as often as you want (and know that the more you say it, the less uncomfortable people will feel to hear it). Tell his Ureaplasma story, and include him in your family. Never feel ashamed or strange to do that. You are a mother to 3 children, no matter what the world sees.

And remember that speaking about him is your choice.

When you choose not to, don’t feel guilty. Remember the mother who told you that he is precious; you don’t have to share him with everyone – not telling people about him does not dishonour his memory. Please know that it’s okay not to be okay. Cry. Whenever you want. Never feel ashamed of having an STD, and never apologise for it (that part’s hard). But you will discover you can feel agony, happiness, sorrow, and joy in time. You will meet wonderful people. You will find a shared bond with others who carry great pain, some you may never have met had it not been for

Grey’s sex-fueled death – a sharp and beautiful truth.

Know that everyone grieves differently when they have a Ureaplasma Swab Test. Let yourself feel whatever you feel; try not to compare yourself to anyone else. You are where you need to be. Don’t worry about smiling too soon or screaming in agony many months after he is gone. You and Mike will feel this differently. And that’s okay. Try to make space for the ways separately, and together, you will process this huge, enormous, life-changing thing.

There are different ways you will carry Grey with you.

Moreover, we live in a world that fears death, grief and bereavement. That can be isolating. Remember the wise words another grieving mother said to you – forgive anyone who says an odd thing. Because people will say odd things – and those things will hurt. Sometimes, you’ll feel angry and upset about STI test health and the risks of connecting. Even death is the price for loving connections.

You are allowed to. Some people will not want to face your pain – know there are many reasons for this. And try to forgive the faltering awkwardness, to understand that people don’t know what to say – you don’t know what to say. But don’t be afraid to get a Ureaplasma Test and to tell someone they’ve said the wrong thing – you want to know when you say it.

Some days, you’ll need to sit quietly with your sadness.

Also, on other days, your grief will feel loud, intrusive, and difficult to manage. Allow yourself to feel what you feel. Take support, and let people carry you. Try to remember the clarity you feel about the world right now. And then forgive yourself when you don’t, worry about small things, and get bogged down in the humdrum of life when the day-to-day is boring, irritating, and stressful. Embrace the ordinary. Celebrate it.

Take time to breathe in moments that before might have seemed mundane. Ureaplasma needs to be a part of life. Get your STD tests and get cured. However, don’t let it kill you. Remember Joan Didion’s wise words – ‘life changes instantly’. And see the magic in the regular. Squeeze the ones you love a little tighter. Most of all, remember that this grief is love.

You will carry it forever; carry Grey forever.

And I promise, there will come a day when you look at that photo of Grey snuggled into your chest and remember first the joy of that little heart beating next to yours before the blinding pain of his diagnosis. You will smile again. And you will be happy even with STI risks and even infected. And sometimes more than you could imagine before this little boy came into your life.

You are going to be okay.