Kat Hart

Why I’m Joining the Sands Charity 100K Walk

This year, I’m walking 100 kilometres for a reason that lives quietly in my heart.

After my miscarriages, the world felt both impossibly loud and painfully silent at the same time. Life carried on around me — conversations, plans, celebrations — while I was standing still in a grief that few people could see.

That kind of loss changes you.

And it’s why I’m joining the Sands Charity 100K Walk.

The Grief No One Prepares You For

Miscarriage is common, but it’s rarely spoken about openly. There’s no roadmap for how to grieve a future you had already imagined. No clear language for the mix of heartbreak, confusion, guilt, anger, and emptiness.

You grieve not only a baby, but the birthdays you pictured. The first day of school. The life that was already taking shape in your mind.

After my miscarriages, I learned how isolating loss can feel. Even surrounded by love, there were moments when I felt completely alone.

That’s why organisations like Sands matter so much.

Why This Walk Matters to Me

Sands supports families experiencing pregnancy loss and baby loss, offering practical help, emotional support, and working to improve maternity safety so fewer families face this pain in the future.

When you’ve lived through miscarriage, you understand how vital that support is.

The 100K walk isn’t just a physical challenge for me. It’s symbolic.

Grief is a long road. It’s not linear. Some days are manageable; others feel impossibly heavy. Walking 100 kilometres feels like honouring that journey — step by step, even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

Turning Pain Into Purpose

After loss, you look for meaning. You look for something to hold onto. For me, this walk is a way to transform something deeply painful into something purposeful.

Each kilometre will be for:

• The babies I never got to hold
  
  

• The versions of me that existed before and after loss
  
  

• The families navigating similar heartbreak right now
  
  

• The hope that better care and research can prevent future loss
  
  

I can’t change what happened. But I can choose what I do with it.

Breaking the Silence

One of the hardest parts of miscarriage is the silence that surrounds it. The hesitancy. The discomfort. The way conversations move quickly on.

But silence can make grief heavier.

By sharing this, by walking publicly, by fundraising and talking about baby loss openly, I hope to help create space — space for honesty, for support, for acknowledgment.

Because these babies mattered.
Because our grief is real.
Because no one should have to carry it alone.

Why 100K?

One hundred kilometres will stretch me physically. There will be blisters, exhaustion, and moments where I question why I signed up.

But I’ve already walked through something far harder.

This time, I get to walk with purpose. With community. With intention.

And if even one person feels less alone because this conversation started, or if even one family receives the support they desperately need because of funds raised — then every single step will be worth it.

I’m walking for healing.
I’m walking in remembrance.
I’m walking for change.

And I’m walking because love doesn’t end — even when a pregnancy does. 💜