The mothers who cuddled, bathed and dressed their babies for weeks after they died

Some may find these pictures disturbing. But these women’s stories are both heart-rending and uplifting

of misfortune, when her partner Ben learned the news, he suffered a fit, banged his head and went into a coma. He died a week later, seven weeks before Billy-Rose was born in June 2012.

It made Josie, 45, all the more determined to make her short time together with her daughter as memorable as possible. Every day, she catalogued her tiny child’s life, giving her a new experience, whether it was putting her feet on the grass or smelling flowers.

Billy-Rose died of pneumonia in Josie’s arms on December 14, but Josie was still determined to give her little girl her first Christmas.

Given her own room at the funeral home, Billy-Rose was put in a CuddleCot and Josie visited her every day, decorating the room with her toys.

‘It may sound morbid, but I wanted that Christmas with her,’ says Josie. ‘When your baby dies and you wake up every morning to find they aren’t there, it’s like falling into an abyss.

‘So I looked forward to visiting her and spending more time with her, chatting or holding her hand.

‘On Christmas Day, I opened her presents for her. I read her a new book, Guess How Much I Love You?, and my family came to visit.

‘That little bit of extra time helped me to get used to the fact that Billy-Rose was gone. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it does make that transition a bit more gentle. I kissed her every day she was alive. When I kissed her in death, her skin was like marble.

‘It helped me acknowledge she was not there any more and that I had to let her body go. I still look back on it as a beautiful time.’

Mel Scott, an occupational therapist from Somerset who organises bereavement training days, says allowing parents time with their dead babies helps them come to terms with the loss.

Mel, 37, who lost her son Finley in 2009, found it helped to be able to bathe, dress and read to him after his death. However, when he started to change physically, Mel knew it was time to let him go.

‘The fact that he had changed, that his face and nails had become purple and black, helped me recognise he was gone. It was the only thing that made seeing his coffin go into the dirt bearable.

‘Until you have been in that position, you don’t know how you would respond. The important thing is choice. When your baby dies, you feel as if every choice has been taken away.

‘Even now, I have countless parents contacting me via my charity, Towards Tomorrow Together, to say they aren’t able to heal because they didn’t get to bathe, dress or kiss their baby.

‘Those regrets hurt so much for many years after the loss.’

For Corporal Michael McLeod, 27, and Jillian, 28, who lost their first baby, Lucy, at 30 weeks on December 27, the pain of her loss is still raw — but they believe the three days they spent with her at home before her funeral will, in time, make it easier.

When Jillian came round from anaesthetic after an operation to try to save her and her unborn child, one of her first fears was that someone would try to take her lifeless baby away.

BUT Michael says he is grateful that he and his wife were able to keep their child with them until Jillian was ready to let her go.

‘Lucy was brought to me in a blanket while Jillian was still in surgery,’ says Michael. ‘I was blown away by how perfect she was. She was so tiny, 3lb 11oz, and she looked just like me.

‘At first, Jillian was confused. When I’d made sure she understood that Lucy had passed away, I brought her over.’

For five days, they kept Lucy with them. Then, on December 31, the couple took Lucy home.

Michael says: ‘We took Lucy straight up to her nursery, where we laid the CuddleCot in the crib I’d put together a few days before.

‘We didn’t want to pick her up too much because we knew her body needed to stay cool. Most of the time we kept her in her nursery — but I never closed the door or turned off the light. I didn’t want her lying in the dark.’

Michael says that that time at home with Lucy helped them to recognise when to let go.

‘You could see from the bruising and discoloration that was developing on Lucy’s body that it was time to say goodbye,’ he says.

‘Though the heartache was incomprehensible, for us that time with Lucy was invaluable.’