Christopher Oneill

50 Kilometres for the Tiny Footprints That Fade Too Soon

There is a kind of silence that follows the loss of a baby. It is not the peaceful quiet of a sleeping newborn. It is the heavy, aching silence of a room that should be filled with cries, with laughter, with life.

This May, I will run 50 kilometres. Not because I love running that far (honestly, the thought terrifies me a little). But because I want to break that silence. I am running to raise funds and awareness for Sands, the UK’s leading stillbirth and neonatal death charity.

Why Sands?

Every year in the UK alone, thousands of babies die before, during, or shortly after birth. That is thousands of parents who leave the hospital with empty arms. Thousands of siblings who never get to meet their brother or sister. Thousands of grandparents whose dreams are rewritten in an instant.

Sands exists for those families.

They provide essential bereavement support – helplines, online communities, printed resources – so that no parent has to navigate this devastating loss alone. They train healthcare professionals to respond with compassion rather than silence. And they fund vital research to understand why these deaths happen, with the ultimate goal of saving more tiny lives.

But Sands also does something quieter, and just as important: they give permission to grieve. They remind the world that a baby’s life – no matter how short – matters. That saying their name is not “sad,” it is sacred.

Why 50km?

I wanted a challenge that felt honest. Running 26km (a marathon) is hard. Running 50km is harder still. It will hurt. There will be moments when my legs want to stop, when my lungs burn, when my brain whispers just give up.

But that discomfort is nothing compared to what bereaved parents endure. Their pain does not end at the finish line. It lives with them every single day. So if I can choose to suffer for a few hours, and in doing so raise money that brings comfort to a grieving mother or funds research that prevents another family from knowing this pain? Then I will run. I will run until I cannot, and then I will run some more.

How you can help

I have set up a donation page for this run. Every pound (or dollar, or euro) you give goes directly to Sands. Here is what your donation can do:

• £10 – Provides a printed guide for parents leaving hospital after loss, offering practical and emotional support.

• £25 – Helps fund the Sands helpline, so a desperate parent can speak to someone who truly understands.

• £50 – Contributes to training for midwives and doctors, ensuring more families receive compassionate, trauma-informed care.

• £100 – Supports research into the causes of stillbirth, moving us closer to a future where fewer babies die.

And if you cannot give financially, that is completely okay. You can help in another way: share this blog post. Talk about Sands. Ask a friend who has experienced loss how they are really doing. Break the silence.

One last thought

I will complete the 50km in May. But I will also be carrying something with me: the names of babies who never got to run, or walk, or even take a single breath outside the womb.

This run is for them. And for the families who love them still.

Thank you, from the bottom of my hopeful heart.