"My husband and I were over the moon when I fell pregnant with twin girls and were devastated to lose one of them in the third trimester. My pregnancy had been healthy but at 30 weeks I was diagnosed with obstetric cholestasis, a pregnancy related condition effecting the liver. I was aware that there is a link between this condition and stillbirth and the hospital prescribed medication and began twice weekly fetal monitoring.

At 34 weeks the midwife could only detect one heartbeat and an ultrasound confirmed that one twin had died in utero. I was in a hospital in the UK, but my husband was in Vietnam, where we live. The post mortem we requested was inconclusive.

I was shocked that after discovering that one twin – we called her Isla – had died, the doctor told me to go home. I was terrified that we were going to lose our other baby too, and insisted on staying in hospital. The next day I delivered our girls via caesarean section. Overall the hospital was incredibly supportive and we were given a private room and time to spend with Isla. However a number of doctors showed complete insensitivity with one even asking why I was crying and telling me to cheer up. Our surviving twin Thea is now nearly 3 years old.

We were lucky that the hospital has a charity set up by an ex midwife to support parents like us. She was wonderful and helped us memorialise Isla. We had a funeral for her, and before that the charity helped us take a lock of her hair, footprints and handprints, and photographs. 

The first few months of Thea’s life were incredibly difficult. I was absolutely convinced that Isla's death was my fault somehow. I was mourning a baby I had lost while looking after a premature baby who needed a feeding tube. But I also was so grateful to have her, and I don’t know what I would have done without her. I know other couples who lost a single baby to stillbirth or just after birth and can't begin to imagine how they coped. We are now in the process of adopting a baby from Vietnam, as we always wanted to adopt too.

We live in a relatively small expat community in Hanoi, and people’s reactions were mixed. Some were very sensitive, whereas others just ignored the fact that we lost a baby, and congratulated us on the birth of Thea. At first I couldn’t imagine how they could do that and was very upset and hurt although I began to understand - people just don’t know what to say. Vietnamese people seem generally more comfortable talking about death, and practice a form of ancestor worship. 

Its difficult for both my husband and I to talk about Isla but it's important to me to do so and for our daughter Thea to know from the start that she had a sister that she shared a womb with".