‘Our lost child can never be replaced’

A year after their son Ivan’s death, the Camerons are expecting a new baby. Judith Woods hears how others take strength from an addition to the family

Who could fail to be cheered by the news that Samantha Cameron is pregnant with her fourth child? As the daffodils bloom, a new baby is on the way, and after the sad loss of their son Ivan last year, the Camerons’ announcement is a salutary reminder to politicians of every hue that elections, though important, are not a matter of life and death.

This time last year, the couple were mourning their eldest child, aged six, who had been born with cerebral palsy and required round-the-clock care. Ivan, who also suffered from agonising epileptic fits, was unable to talk or move, but he could smile and follow the other family members with his eyes.

His father, David, referred to him as his “beautiful boy” and made no secret of the tenderness he felt towards him; in one touching family portrait he was photographed cradling him protectively in his arms. The couple have two other children: Nancy, six, and Elwen, four, who will be joined by a sibling in September.

It would be easy, but insultingly glib, to regard the new baby as a replacement child, although it’s a term widely used. According to the agony aunt Virginia Ironside, author of ‘You’ll Get Over It: The Rage of Bereavement’, “No one talks about a ‘replacement husband’ if a widow gets remarried, so the idea of replacing any person, whether a baby or a child, is ridiculous. Every life is unique, just as every bond between a parent and child is unique and can’t be recreated.

“Caring for Ivan must have been very hard, even though they could afford help with the day-to-day activities. When you have a disabled child, emotionally there’s a part of your brain that is constantly anxious, anxious about the child’s pain, whether they are happy or not, what the future holds for them, so maybe they have been slightly freed up to think of adding to their family.”

Every year in Britain, almost 3,000 children and young people between the ages of one and 19 die as a result of illness or accident. An additional 4,000 babies are stillborn, another 2,500 die within four weeks of birth and 1,200 die before their first birthday; each painful loss is a tragedy with profound consequences.

Ivan’s death will have left a huge vacuum at the heart of the family. Any household, of necessity, revolves round a child who has severe disabilities, and when that child is no longer present, the family dynamic changes.

Leigh Slocombe, chief executive of Epilepsy Research, says: “Some people may think that following the death of a child with a severe disability, a family is almost ‘relieved’, and that this somehow makes it easier to move on. In our experience, nothing could be further from the truth.

“Parents love their children regardless, and such a devastating loss invariably leaves a huge hole in the life of a parent or sibling. Moving on – or even having some semblance of a normal life – is often extremely difficult.”

When Zoe Le was born in April 2005, it was evident that all was not well. At full term she weighed less than four-and-a-half pounds, her liver function was impaired, she suffered constant infections and struggled to put on weight. Her mother, Peiling, 33, and father Diep, 40, a software engineer, already had a daughter, Grace, then aged four, and felt their family was complete.

The focus was on trying to manage Zoe’s condition. Three times a day, Peiling would have to insert a tube into her tiny daughter’s stomach so that she could be fed. Aged two-and-a-half, she was just starting to walk when, in October 2007, she was admitted to hospital for a routine operation and subsequently died of multiple organ failure.

“From beginning to end her short life was miserable, and the hospital was her second home, but she was an astonishingly happy baby,” her mother recalls. “We loved her so much that we felt fortunate to have such a sweet child.” As the couple, from High Wycombe, tried to come to terms with their loss, it became clear that Grace needed help, too. She attended group sessions at the Buckinghamshire-based Child Bereavement Charity, which enabled her to talk about her sister.

Meanwhile, doctors told her parents that there had been a genetic component to Zoe’s condition and any future pregnancy carried a 25 percent risk. They decided against another child – but nature had other plans. “It was a complete accident that I got pregnant again,” says Peiling. “Of course, we were very worried about the new baby’s welfare, but she was perfectly healthy.”

Chloe was born in April 2009; she looks like Grace, but has the same personality as Zoe. Comparisons, says her mother, are inevitable, but that doesn’t detract from the intensity of her feelings for each of her three precious girls.

“Chloe takes up a lot of my time now, but when I think of Zoe – as I do often – I still cry and feel so sad about everything that happened to her. We all feel as though Zoe is here with us, somewhere, still part of our family. She may be gone but she’s far from forgotten; Grace always tells people she has two sisters.”

Every bereavement changes a family forever. Alex Gear, a tutor at a cookery school, is currently eight months pregnant with twins, following the death of her newborn daughter, Holly, 15 months ago.

She stresses that she and her husband, Ian, 35, a City tax consultant, will tell their new children about their elder sister and include her in their family story.

“I’d gone through IVF and eventually became pregnant with twins, but lost one as it was an ectopic pregnancy,” says Alex, who lives in London. “Then Holly was born in December 2008, but there were complications during her birth and she died in our arms later that day, after we agreed to allow her life support to be turned off.

“We were numb with grief, in total shock; I had carried Holly for nine months and I had a relationship with her, and was so looking forward to meeting her and holding her and suddenly all that was taken away. The pain was unbearable.”

The couple became involved in the children’s medical research charity, Sparks, fund-raising and gaining mutual support from other bereaved parents. Then, after a final round of IVF last year, Alex became pregnant with twins, due in early May.

“These babies aren’t a replacement for the daughter we lost, this is just us trying to move forward as best we can,” says Alex.

But having another child is not always the path that bereaved parents want – or are in a position to take. Audrie Norris’s son, Nicholas, died of a brain haemorrhage at the age of 16 in 1985. The youngest in a family of five children, Nicholas was missed in very different ways by everyone, and the pressure on Audrie and her husband John to guide their children through such a traumatic time was too overwhelming for them to consider another child.

“An enormous gaping hole was left at the centre of our family, and while I was briefly tempted to try for a baby, I immediately dismissed the thought for the sake of my other children,” says Audrie, 65, from Derbyshire, who received such support from the bereaved parents’ charity The Compassionate Friends Ltd that she now works for the organisation full-time.

“A baby would have diverted my attention and would have meant I had less time and energy to give to my existing family, who needed me desperately to help them through their grief,” she says.

Audrie reflects that bereaved parents often find themselves at a loss when strangers ask how many children they have. Some are unsure whether to include the one they have lost because it may lead to painful questions.

“I think in time we all learn that there’s no way that child can be excluded,” she says. “I always say we had five but the youngest died, and most people accept that with perhaps a mention of sympathy.

“I wish Samantha and David every happiness, because having a baby is the right decision for them. But I know they will never forget Ivan, nor would they ever wish to.”

Mabel Dimma