On Baby Loss Awareness Day, the Striver family are honoured to be able to share Andy Lindley's story.
Andy is one of the figureheads of Baby Loss United FC, a Sunday league club which helps fathers, grandfathers, uncles and brothers affected by pregnancy and infant loss.
Our yearly charity match and event, StriveAid, is all about giving back to the community and there is no better example of that than handing Andy the responsibility of replacing Roberto Carlos as captain of Team Roberto.
Andy earned his nomination through his friends for his incredible work with Baby Loss United. Once we heard about his story of tragedy and resilience, there was nobody more worthy for the role.
Baby Loss Awareness Week raises awareness and offers support to individuals who have lost loved ones during pregnancy or infancy. And for Andy, today is a day he holds close to his heart and his touching words below explain just why.
Warning: This piece touches on sensitive topics including infant loss, grief, and mental health.
A Blissful Beginning
In 2014 we found out Leah was pregnant with our second child. After eight years of trying to conceive we were over the moon.
After such an amazing pregnancy with our eldest, Izzy, we moved through the early milestones blissfully unaware of the miracle pregnancy and childbirth truly is.
Leah’s pregnancy was healthy and our early scans and appointments were everything you’d expect – textbook.
So much so we brought Izzy along to the slightly delayed 20 week scan. With Leah comfortably set up on the bed, we were eargerly waiting for the sonographer (nurse) to show us the magic of seeing our baby in the womb.
Trying to guess the gender, how big or small and what fruit our baby would be compared to. At this half way stage our baby’s life had already been laid out before us, already compared to their big sister, already dreaming of the life they’d lead, the character they’d become, the relationship they would have with their happy, smart, beautiful big sister. Our hopes and expectations already formed.
And there he was on the screen. At the time, we didn’t know Dexter was a 'he' or that he was going to be called Dexter either. Izzy and I were so excited.
The Moment Everything Changed
Leah was reserved – she had a feeling something wasn’t right. In a moment the room changed- the nurse excused herself and said she needed a doctor – Leah knew straightaway this wasn’t normal.
The doctor came in and confirmed all was not okay. Our baby was in distress, something wasn’t right. Our world changed, forever.
What was supposed to be a magical family moment turned into the worst moment of our lives and we were living it with our eight year old daughter in the room.
We were referred to specialists at St George’s hospital in London who were experts in the technology required to give us answers, answers we didn’t want to hear, we could never have imagined when we saw those blue lines on the pregnancy test a few months earlier.
Our baby was not going to survive pregnancy. We came home, continuously going through the stages of grief on the drive home and coming days.
I don’t really remember the days after, my mind doing what minds do to protect as best it can from the trauma I was living.
Living Through the Silence
Leah went in to labour the following week, Dexter arrived at around 24 weeks and did not survive.
We had some time in the hospital, in the maternity ward surrounded by other parents welcoming their babies to the world. Surrounded by the screams, the cries, the love, the babies a maternity ward should be filled with – whilst our room was silent, filled with heartbreak, anger, fear, grief, sadness.
The maternity ward and midwifes/nurses were amazing but it is all a blur to me. From pregnancy, through to diagnosis, childbirth to planning Dexter’s funeral i was doing what’s expected of men. Supporting, fixing, updating, returning purchased items, protecting and doing my best for everyone who needed me.
Something that has since defined who I am and how i look at life is walking through the chapel at Worthing Crematorium with Dexter’s coffin in my arms, on my own. So small, so light but the heaviest burden.
Loss and 'Surviving' the Rainbow
In the short time that followed, death seemed to follow us like a black cloud, relatively protected from death in our lives up until that point quickly followed the loss of friends, colleagues, family, grandparents and then my lovely Mum.
Aged 55, she went to bed after a night out with friends and colleagues and she did not wake up.
In between these losses we were blessed with our Rainbow baby, Jackson, born just 15 months after losing Dexter. For anyone who has survived the loss of their baby, pregnancy after loss is terrifying.
I spent nine months expecting the worse news every day. Every phone call, every text brought the dread and fear something had happened. I did not live through that pregnancy, I survived it.
Throughout this time everyone was aware of my declining mental health, except me. And it’s only because I’m fortunate enough to be here today, to look back on it that I can see I was the last to know, I can now identify all the signs and symptoms i was living with, my family was living with.
Finding a New Kind of Support
I stumbled across a news report about a football team in Northampton for men affected by baby loss. Seeing Rob and Leon on the news talking about their losses, about the benefits of the beautiful game, the safe space in the changing room and sideline, the comradery of teams sports thats gives you at least 90 minutes of distraction surrounded by men like you.
What resonated with me was – this wasn’t your usual traditional support set up. Rob mentioned that the bereavement sessions he’d attended previously with his wife had one other man attending, and after the next session he was the only father attending. Also his team hadn't won a single game since they formed – my kind of story, because all the charity teams id seen before were full of ex county players, ex pro’s, full of the amateur or grassroots elite.
But here was a team of men where the result on the pitch truly came last, filled with men needing a release and support of others like them.
I shared a message with my football team I was a member of at the time, showing my desire to become more than just a football team, become a community project, a support network for men statistically more likely to die from suicide than any other cause. They were immediately on board and continue to do amazing work for men's mental health – The View FC, a really special club.
Building Sands United FC Brighton & Hove
Shortly after Leah and I discussed potentially setting up a Sunday League team in Brighton, replicating what was happening in Northampton and other city’s around the UK.
We reached out to the charity who approved our team and Sands United FC Brighton & Hove was created, February 2019.
We went from one, to four, to six members in four months but short of the 11 required for Sunday League football.
Sussex County FA and The Sussex Sunday Football League provided amazing support in raising awareness of the team, securing funding and getting everything set up to welcome new players to the team.
In my urgency to get a team ready for September I welcomed my closest friends in to the team, friends of the few other dads who had joined and expanded our membership outside the bereaved community. One of my best decisions to date!
I opened up the team to an amazing group of men who have dedicated their time on the team to supporting others, learning empathy, showing compassion and whilst maybe not being able to understand fully they could listen, not fix just listen.
To this date we still welcome players from outside the bereaved community on the agreement that mental health and wellbeing is a conversation they can never shy away from, judge others on but support, listen and share.
More Than a Football Team
Today, with over 60 men connected to the club we grew beyond what I first imagined. We were not just a team, we became a peer to peer support network. And not just for men, the players families were also gaining support, companionship, friendship from the extended group. From mums, to siblings, grandparents, uncles and friends of a beareved parent.
We’ve gone on to win awards and accolades, trophies and league titles but our biggest victory will always be reaching 1 more bereaved father!
Partners often commented that they were getting their men back, they were seeing them smile again, belong again, feel supported.
The power of our beautiful game is remarkable, the benefits of being amongst ‘your’ people is so powerful. So much support comes unspoken, just recognition and acceptance.
Now their are plenty of amazing football teams out their for our community and others doing amazing things to support players living with challenges. If anyone finds themselves needing or wanting to support others you’ll be able to search out a network right for you.
We aim to be here for as long as our community needs us, seven years in and we still feel our journey is just beginning as we continue to adapt to the needs and demands of our community.
All players welcome, always 💙🧡
Seeking Help & Finding Community
If you or a loved one have been affected by pregnancy or infancy loss, support is available. Baby Loss United provides compassionate, peer-led support and community connection for those impacted by baby loss.
You can get in touch with Baby Loss United via:
- Phone: +44 7764 537078
- Email: babylossunitedfc@gmail.com
Tommy's offers expert advice, midwives' guidance, and support resources for anyone who has experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or premature birth.
Support resources: Tommy's Baby Loss Support
Sands (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity) provides confidential support, memory-making guidance, and dedicated support lines for bereaved parents and families.
- Information and links: Sands Baby Loss Support & Useful Links
The Lullaby Trust offers emotional support and practical information for anyone affected by the sudden and unexpected death of a baby or young child.
- Bereavement care: The Lullaby Trust Bereavement Support
