Pottery with purpose: Olive & Kin custom urns for bereaved parents

I’m a midwife and a mum of three girls, two here with us and one in the stars. My first daughter Billie was born after a straightforward pregnancy. My second pregnancy, with Olive, was very different.

At 20 weeks I had a scan and was sent to hospital with a shortening cervix. At 22 weeks and five days, my waters broke. I knew immediately what that meant, but my brain couldn’t catch up with reality. We faced the heartbreaking decision to end our very wanted pregnancy…There are no words for that kind of grief.

Olive was born into a room filled with love and support. My husband Ben, our friend Jane and two incredible midwives held space for us during the most devastating day of our lives. Olive lived for less than an hour. She spent that time warm and safe on our chests while we sang to her and listened to music.

Lying there with my baby, I realised nothing else mattered. There was nothing to fix, nothing to plan or do, just time to hold her, to love her and to grieve. In the weeks that followed I found myself Googling things no parent ever expects to search for: “How to tell a two-year-old her baby sister died” and “nice baby urn.” I couldn’t find anything that felt right for Olive, so I decided to make one myself.

The first version was a bit of a flop, but a few weeks later, on Mother’s Day, I tried again. I sat on our porch in the sun and shaped Olive’s urn by hand, the most peaceful way I could have spent that day. I didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of Olive & Kin.

When a baby dies, you become part of a club no one wants to join. The worst club with the best people. As I shared Olive’s story, other bereaved parents began reaching out. Some told me they had never found an urn they liked. Others admitted their baby’s ashes had sat “in a box under the bed” for years.

Making Olive’s urn had been quiet and healing for me, so I began making them for other families. What started as something deeply personal has grown into something much bigger. I have now handmade more than 225 custom ceramic urns for families across Australia. Thanks to generous donors, they are provided free of charge and always will be.

In May last year, Olive & Kin became a registered charity. As this Tawny lands, we will have just celebrated that milestone with a fundraiser and launch event at the Harbord Hotel, surrounded by many of the people who have been supported and/or supported this work from the beginning.

Creativity has remained a thread through my grief. During my pregnancy with our youngest daughter Norah, born very prematurely at 28 weeks after a complicated pregnancy and a battle with sepsis, I spent long hospital days painting watercolours. Those paintings became Pregnancy After Loss affirmation cards, with all profits supporting the work of Olive & Kin.

Grief doesn’t disappear. Over time the waves spread further apart. Olive will always be one of our daughters. We speak about her often and celebrate her birthday each year. Her life was heartbreakingly short, but the love she created continues to ripple outward. I am so looking forward to watching Olive & Kin grow and feel incredibly lucky to have found a way to honour our daughter meaningfully.