There's a reason why the death of Cristiano Ronaldo's baby boy twin has touched so many millions of people around the world.
Sure, he's the most followed person on Instagram and arguably one of the greatest football players of all time. And with her own reality show, his girlfriend Georgina Rodriguez is a bona fide celebrity in her own right.
But the reason this story has resonated is because the death of a single twin is so unbelievably awful.
I should know. I lost my baby daughter Elizabeth in January this year. Her twin brother Banksi miraculously survived.
Of course, the loss of any baby — at any stage of a pregnancy — is a tragedy. But the late-term loss of a twin is rare and brings with it so many additional emotions and medical complications. The "foetal demise", as it's crudely termed, of one twin raises the stakes dangerously high for the other baby. Sadly, in many cases the risks to the surviving foetus are simply too great and both twins succumb.
Stillbirth does not discriminate; it's the ultimate leveller. Described as the birth of a baby without any signs of life after 20 weeks' gestation, stillbirths account for less than 1 per cent of all births in Australia. Which seems so unlikely until it happens to you.
The hardest thing I've ever had to do
I carried Elizabeth for two months after she passed away in-utero at almost seven months' gestation. She was perfectly formed and had been active throughout our pregnancy. She had a cheeky personality in all our scans, much like her big sister. But her umbilical cord failed her. It was random, rare, and unrelated to her being a twin.
Carrying Elizabeth's body was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. There are no words to describe what it's like to carry life and death with you at the same time. But we had to do it for Banksi; it was the only way to ensure his survival and get him as close to term as possible. They were always going to be delivered together.
After Elizabeth's death I was consumed by overwhelming sadness, darkness. I was anxious and fearful that I would lose Banksi too. And I felt alone.
The extended bed rest and weekly scans heightened my sense of despair. My friends, family and colleagues who knew what had happened couldn't fully understand the unique situation I was in. And who could blame them? I was battling so hard, mentally and physically, to save my baby boy. While at the same time, I was grieving the loss of his twin.
I was fortunate to receive amazing medical care from our country's best doctors, along with support from the psychologists and grief counsellors at Red Nose. I also met with other bereaved mothers, which helped alleviate some of the loneliness.
But I never met anyone as fortunate/unfortunate as me to lose a single twin. The reality of any grief is much different to what people see from the outside. The reality of twin grief is distinctly bittersweet.
Learning to grow around the grief
Like Ronaldo and Rodriguez, my husband and I announced the arrival of our twins on social media. It was the easiest way to get the message out in one hit. It also meant we could then disconnect, retreat and effectively hide away from the world for a couple of months.
While we were overwhelmed with kindness and support, many of our friends and family simply didn't know how to react to our news. Some acknowledged only Banksi. Others focused on her loss, rather than his survival. Some friends disappeared. Others came out of the woodwork.
I found support in unexpected places, and with unexpected people. By far the greatest support came from those in my circle who had also experienced stillbirth and infant death. It's like a club you don't want to join, but one where all members have a shared understanding. All a bereaved mother really wants is for her baby to be recognised.
The pain of losing a child never wanes. You just learn to grow around the grief. And while the loss of our beautiful girl is still so raw, I feel like the luckiest mother in the world to have my son. While we know he'll feel the loss of his twin forever, we're comforted that he is surrounded by endless love from his siblings and his angel twin Elizabeth.
The day he became a twinless twin, I knew Banksi had to be enough in his own right. And he is.
While remembering Elizabeth has helped my family come to terms with what happened, I can understand why so many women, and their partners, choose not to talk about the passing of their baby (and in some cases, babies). The stigma is so great. And the sheer awfulness of a baby's death can be too much for many.
That's why normalising and creating discussion around the subject is so important. Between them, Cristiano Ronaldo and Georgina Rodriguez have almost a billion followers across the major social media platforms.
That's a huge stage from which to create awareness and start conversation. After all, no amount of fame, athletic ability or money can safeguard against stillbirth and infant death.
If you or someone you know needs help with the death of a baby or child, you can contact the Red Nose Grief and Loss 24/7 Support Line on 1300 308 307 or visit rednosegriefandloss.org.au.
Fiona Ellis-Jones is the ABC's Editor of Audio News and Current Affairs.
