The Daddy Letters: widower Lachlan Searle’s loving epistles
In an intimate and heartrending series of letters to his infant children, Lachlan Searle has ensured the memory of their muchloved mother lives on, as he tells Melissa Field.
When Lachlan Searle and his wife, Rebecca McGloughlin, were enduring endless, gruelling rounds of IVF treatment between 2009 and 2011, the hopeful dad-to-be started writing letters to his fictional kids, “Earl and Pearl”.
“I jotted down some stuff for the babies I feared we might never have,” says communications manager Lach, 40. “I probably wrote about eight letters. It was my way of coping with the emotional ride that is IVF.”
Lachlan and Bec, as he affectionately refers to his wife of 12 years, finally became pregnant on their seventh
IVF cycle with adorable, animal-loving Thomas, born in December 2011. Just four months after his birth, a miracle. Bec became pregnant naturally with sweet, curly-haired Charlotte – or Lottie as the little girl now prefers to be called – born in January 2013. “Potts [Lach’s nickname for his daughter] was a massive surprise,” he says. Given he and Bec, a commercial lawyer, had two kids under two years, the earliest version of his Daddy Letters ground to a halt. “We were totally in the baby bubble. It was a pretty intense time, going from no kids to two kids in the space of a few months,” recalls Lach.
Two years ago, though, Lach began writing again. This time, The Daddy Letters were directly addressed to his finally here, real-life kids.
Tragically, his letter-writing had been revived because of the cruellest of circumstances.
On December 5, 2014, Bec died suddenly from toxic shock caused by streptococcal infection, after becoming unwell just a few days earlier. Streptococcus is a bacteria – in its mildest form, it can lead to a sore throat. At its most severe, when released into the blood stream, it can cause life-threatening blood or organ infections – which can lead to toxic shock or sepsis. While the cause of Bec’s streptococcus isn’t known, she succumbed, as Lach describes it, to “an infection we just couldn’t outrun,” – despite the efforts of the Canberra Hospital ICU and the specialists flown in from Melbourne’s The Alfred Hospital in an attempt to save her. Each year, up to 3000 Australians die from similar infections.
When she passed away, Bec was 37 years old and had recently selflessly offered to act as a surrogate for her sister. Tom had just turned three – his birthday party had already been scheduled for the Saturday two days after Bec’s death. Little Lottie was only 23 months old.
“It was as if Bec had died in a car crash. It was so sudden and shocking,” recalls Lach.
The Canberra born and bred pair had met in their teens while in Paris on a Contiki tour of Europe. “We were together for 20 years and grew up together,” says Lach, a tinge of disbelief still audible in his voice.
Despite his own intense and almost overwhelming grief, Lach simply couldn’t fall apart – because of Tom and Lottie.
“At first, when Bec died, they were super-clingy,” recalls Lach, who at the time of Bec’s death was the University of Canberra Capitals basketball team general manager. “It was suffocating, but understandable. They were grieving too and needed me. I almost had to put my own grief aside.”
In the haze of shock and sadness in the immediate aftermath of Bec’s death, Lach gave up work to focus on his children and help them
adjust to their strange new world. He also began writing The Daddy Letters again.
The blog and Facebook page chronicle Lach’s surreal new life as a widower and Tom and Lottie’s memories and mentions of the mum who adored them. To date, he has amassed more than 10,000 words that he plans on sharing with the kids when they’re old enough.
“My main intent is to document thoughts, memories and funny stories to help the kids remember their mum,” explains Lach of the weekly notes. “I also think that if Tommy or Lottie were to break down when they’re older and say, ‘I don’t know anything about my mum’, then I’d have failed them.”
There’s little chance of that.
The Daddy Letters are a heartfelt, emotional, uplifting and even wryly funny read – and it seems Lach’s letters are touching those beyond his immediate family and friends.
“As I’ve put up more letters, I’ve had more people email me or call me and often they’re in the same situation – either further down the track or just beginning their journey in grief,” he says. “It actually helps me to meet people who are walking, or have walked, in my shoes.”
Lach encourages his kids to talk about their mum whenever they like. “Tommy had his school orientation morning recently,” he says. “And the teacher was reading the kids a book called My Mum Is Amazing. She asked him, ‘Is your mummy amazing?’ And he said, matter of factly, ‘She used to be. But she died. But my daddy’s amazing’. I was so proud of him, not just because of what he said about me – which was great, of course – but also how confidently and comfortably he spoke about his mum in what could’ve been an awkward situation.”
When Bec was alive, the family spent lots of time at the National Zoo & Aquarium in Canberra because one of Lach and Bec’s favourite pre-kids trips together was on a South African safari and because Tommy, who is articulate and confident, absolutely loves giraffes, hippos and rhinos.
Lach has also used the zoo animals to explain that family units come in all different shapes and sizes. “I’ll say, ‘Look at those giraffes. There’s the daddy and his two kids. That’s their family, just like us,’” he explains.
Two years on from losing Bec,
Lach continues to write. He has also launched and oversees For My Babies, a Canberra-based counselling service for couples going through IVF, surrogacy and adoption, and run in conjunction with Relationships Australia. “It was set up in the week after Bec died, when I was running on adrenalin and shock,” he says. “I wanted to find some good out of what happened to Bec and I felt because she’d been so supportive to others going through IVF, I reckon once our kids were a bit older she would’ve been quite active in supporting others, too. It’s still ticking along today.”
Lach now also juggles the day-today logistics of work – he’s doing four days a week in a new job at Mental Health Australia. His close and supportive family, including Bec’s parents, Eda and Tony, and his mum and dad, Helen and Bob, as well as his two sisters, live close by and help out with the kids frequently, too. He’s also busy preparing Tom for big school and Lottie’s introduction to pre-school. “Life is busy,” says Lach. “I gave a speech to the Menslink charity in October and I said, ‘Our life as a team of three now has been a perfect mess and it may continue to be. But we’re adjusting to that.’”
That adjustment process includes navigating bittersweet anniversaries each year. “December and January are tough,” admits Lach. “There’s my birthday, Tommy’s birthday, Bec’s anniversary, Christmas, New Year, our wedding anniversary and Lottie’s birthday. I’ve learned that forward planning makes them manageable. I also decided to embrace them, rather than just get through them.”
Last year, Lach and the kids put up Christmas decorations on the anniversary of Bec’s death to lessen the sting of December 5. “Bec loved Christmas and bought a decoration from anywhere we travelled to,” says Lach. “It was a good opportunity to show them to the kids and reclaim that day, too.”
Lach, Tom and Lottie often mark the other special days by releasing balloons. “Whenever the kids see balloons floating into the sky, they call out, ‘Catch it, Mummy’,” he says, with a smile.
Having things to look forward to helps Lach to manage his grief – a camping trip with other dads and a tribe of kids, as documented in The Daddy Letters, a mid-year break to escape Canberra’s winter chill and, one day, taking Tom and Lottie to the Sabi Sabi game reserve in South Africa. “Bec and I loved to travel and we wanted to foster that in the kids,” says Lach. “I can’t wait to take the kids on safari when they’re old enough.”
As for the day-to-day, Lach says he’s simply trying to be the very best dad – and mum – he can be. “I’ll also carry on writing letters whenever I can,” he says, “so Tom and Potts know just how special their Mumma was.”