supplied
- Collette Butler, 33, from Launceston, Tasmania, tragically lost her baby girl Amelia during an emergency C-section at 38 weeks.
- She found comfort creating memory boxes, connecting with other grieving parents and wrote a book on stillbirth
- After giving birth to a rainbow baby boy, Franklin, she started a charity, Beyond the Rainbow, to help heal support other families dealing with baby loss.
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mentions of pregnancy loss.
Here Collette shares her story of healing her pain of stillbirth and helping others in her own words
Sinking into the newly assembled armchair in my nursery, I smiled.
‘It’ll be perfect to feed the baby,’ I said to my husband Nathan, then 28.
It was May 2020 and I was 38 weeks along with our first bub. We’d kept the gender a surprise, but had already picked out names – Amelia for a girl or Charlie for a boy.
So when I went into labour four days later, I was ecstatic to be soon meeting our bub.
We drove to Launceston General Hospital and the midwives examined me to check how far I was dilated.
Shockingly, they said they could feel the baby’s foot, indicating our bub was breech.
Within seconds, our baby’s heart rate started to drop and I was rushed to theatre for an emergency caesarean.
‘Where’s our baby?’ I asked.
To get our bub out as quickly as possible, I was put under general anaesthetic.
When I came to in recovery, I turned to Nathan.
‘Where’s our baby?’ I asked.
‘She didn’t make it,’ he choked.
‘No, please, no,’ I sobbed.
I’d had such a smooth pregnancy. How could this be happening?
Doctors explained that Amelia was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and couldn’t be saved.
The grief I felt was indescribable.
As a nurse, I’d offered support to my patients who’d experienced child loss many times over my career, but I never imagined it would happen to me.
When we felt ready, we were taken to see our baby girl in the maternity unit.
‘She looks so calm – as if she’s sleeping,’ Nathan cried.
She looked perfect with her head of dark brown hair and petite features.
We gave her a bath, dressed her in a little white dress with tiny butterflies on it, and our family came to meet her.
‘Leaving the hospital empty-handed two days later was soul-crushing.’
We were so grateful when a volunteer photographer from Heartfelt, a charity that gifts free sessions for families that have experienced a stillbirth, came to capture photos of our precious girl.
‘You will be with me always,’ I said, kissing Amelia’s forehead.
Leaving the hospital empty-handed two days later was soul-crushing.
READ MORE:MUM SHARES HEARTBREAKING PICTURE ON DAY HER STILLBORN BABY SHOULD START SCHOOL.
READ MORE: HEARTBROKEN MUM DELIVERS STILLBORN BABY
Back at home, I sat in the nursery chair and cried, feeling my heart shatter into pieces.
‘She will never get to wear these clothes,’ I sobbed, looking at the tiny onesies we’d bought.
Nathan found it hard to express his grief, and started renovating our bathroom to take his mind off the pain.
A few days later, we had a funeral for Amelia.
As her tiny white coffin was lowered into the ground, a rainbow shone brightly in the sky.
I felt like a ghost of myself.
I took it as a sign that Amelia was in a world of magic, free of pain and worries.
But in the days and weeks that followed, I felt like a ghost of myself. It took me five months to be able to go back to work.
Devastatingly, over the next two years we sadly experienced three miscarriages.
To deal with the grief, I started writing a book, Stillbirth: Still A Birth.
We didn’t get to bring our baby home, but we still have birth stories, I wrote, hoping it would bring some comfort to other parents who’d experienced loss.
I also decided to make care boxes for anyone grieving.
After fundraising money through a cocktail event, I filled the boxes with keepsakes, such as a photo frame, journal and clay kits to create memories.
READ MORE: I’M ALLERGIC TO MY BABY
In late 2022, I fell pregnant again.
‘Please watch over your sibling,’ I asked Amelia.
In May 2023, our son Franklin James was born in the very same room that his sister lost her life.
He looked like Amelia, with his dark hair and petite little face.
Nathan and I couldn’t believe how lucky we were.
Still, I watched over Franklin like a hawk, worried we’d lose him too, but thankfully he continued to thrive.
In time, families started messaging me about the care packages.
The rainbow brightened the sky the day we said our final goodbyes to Amelia
Your box brought back some beauty and magic into a very dark day, one mum named Emma wrote after losing her son Jace in March 2023, and we became friends.
My sister, Fiona, then 33, also thought them a lovely idea.
Together we decided to formally set up a charity to help families navigating the grief of losing their baby, offering gift boxes and support to those who needed it.
Telling my new friend, Emma, about our idea, she offered to help us too.
‘What should we call it?’ she asked.
Thinking back to how the rainbow brightened the sky the day we said our final goodbyes to Amelia, we named the charity Beyond the Rainbow.
Thinking back to how the rainbow brightened the sky the day we said our final goodbyes to Amelia, we named the charity Beyond the Rainbow.
After launching in January 2024, we’ve thrown social events like a Mother’s Day brunch and golf day to raise money.
We also hold education sessions with midwives, informing them about the boxes, and how they can support grieving families.
We’ve now donated boxes to over 241 families throughout Tasmania.
And we’ve even created sibling packs to support little ones who have lost a brother or sister.
We named the charity Beyond the Rainbow.
Franklin, now two, is a happy boy. He loves bike riding and playing with cars.
We visit Amelia’s grave together and I constantly talk about her and his other siblings.
Losing my girl changed my life forever. There are still days when I find myself asking ‘why?’
But I’m so grateful for the time I had with Amelia and how her passing led me to helping others.
I’m sure she is smiling down on us.
For more info visit beyondtherainbowtas.org
Find Support:
- Red Nose Grief and Loss (miscarriage, stillbirth and baby or child death support) on 1300 308 307
- Bears of Hope (infant loss support for families) on 1300 114 673
- The Pink Elephants Loss Helpline (miscarriage support) delivered by PANDA on 1300 726 306
