I’ve never been very good at sharing when it comes to my emotions. I’m very open and engaging about a lot of things, both publicly on the likes of Twitter and personally with friends and family, but that usually involves football or more general topics of discussion. Like a lot of men, I do struggle to talk about more personal things though, which is why the following article is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to write. There are some details I’ve not included below, partly because certain elements are a bit too personal and should always remain private. But there are also some things that remain unanswered at this stage, and have left us with some confusion and anger, and it would be inappropriate for me to include, especially the events that led to what transpired over the last three weeks.
It all started on 24th February, a day that will live long in the memory for many, unwanted, reasons. The tone was probably set quite early, when Russia began their invasion of Ukraine; the largest military conflict since WWII. That afternoon my parents also got in touch to pass on the sad news that our cat, Lola, had passed away. She had been my cat for many years, living with me in both Edinburgh and Musselburgh since I picked her up from a rescue shelter as a kitten. She was almost 17 when she passed away, after living with my parents for the second half of her life after I’d moved around a bit more between flats for work purposes. My girlfriend, Gail, made a comment later that afternoon; “what a day”. Little did we know that it was only just beginning.
Gail was 5 months pregnant at this stage and had been feeling a bit of pain that week. She’d driven herself to the hospital earlier that day but had been discharged with painkillers by lunchtime. So, when I first arrived home to her feeling quite uncomfortable, I wasn’t overly concerned by this initially. But that discomfort gradually changed to significant pain, to the point we felt a return to the hospital was warranted. It was just after 8pm, which I knew because Rangers had just kicked off against Dortmund on the TV as we left the flat. It took us less than 30 minutes to get to the Royal Infirmary, but the closer we got the more concerned I became. Gail’s condition seemed to be deteriorating quite rapidly in the car. After arriving Gail couldn’t get comfortable sitting in the waiting area, so got up to pace outside the front door. I hadn’t even noticed her nip to the toilet until she suddenly rushed past me, uttering the phrase “my waters have broken”. I dashed after her, heart racing. She alerted a member of staff and darted into another toilet cubicle. It was just after 8.30pm when we arrived at the hospital, by 8.38pm my son was born inside, and just at the doorway, of that very cubicle.
The events that proceeded our arrival at the Royal Infirmary went by in a flash, feeling very surreal. At least 20 medical staff appeared within moments of the alarm being raised, to help deliver our child at just 24 weeks and 3 days. I held Gail’s head and comforted her as best I could as she was whisked around the hospital corridors. Adrenaline had kicked in and all I could think about was making sure the woman I love was OK. I’d briefly glimpsed the baby as it had been delivered, but Gail was facing the other direction so didn’t see anything. I must admit my first instinct was there was no chance he had survived, being 4 months premature, and all my focus had to be on Gail. However, as things settled, we began receiving sporadic updates that they were working on our boy and he was alive. I asked one of the doctors what his chances of survival were and he advised that, at this stage, it was probably 50/50. At around midnight they said we could see him, but after one of the midwives wheeled Gail all the way to the neonatal unit from her room we were told upon arrival that we couldn’t see him yet and would have to come back. The next 2 hours were very anxious, as Gail started to worry something was wrong. But eventually, around 2am, we were able to enter the room where our son was being cared for. After following the strict hygiene protocols, that didn’t feel that unfamiliar given the recent pandemic, we were ushered over to an incubator in the corner. Inside, weighing a little over 800g, was our son. As soon as Gail saw him, she started to cry. I must admit, at this stage everything still felt very surreal to me. The pregnancy had been unplanned and until about two weeks earlier all of my focus had been on finding us a new house. I’d openly said to Gail that I hadn’t really come to terms with the impending parenthood, which is partly why I just felt very uncomfortable in amongst a host of machines and monitors; beeping away as they kept our son, and a handful of other babies in the room, alive. I don’t think it was until later that the gravity of the situation really hit me. That was my son; tiny, fragile and somehow breathing after everything that had just happened.
The following day we notified a small number of people about what had happened and a routine of spending most of our days in the Royal Infirmary began. The doctors told us that our son was quite big for his gestation, which worked in his favour in terms of survival, but that he’d likely have to be kept in the neonatal unit for what was supposed to be his full term in the womb; so potentially another 4 months. I think the first 24 hours were very difficult for me in terms of getting my head around everything. Gail felt an instant connection with her baby, understandably given she’d been carrying him for 5 months, but initially I felt a little withdrawn as I sat beside him. The plastic casing of the incubator often steamed up with the temperature inside, making it difficult to properly look at him at times, and he had wires coming from all over his body, as well as having his eyes and head covered, plus the ventilator tube coming out of his mouth. All around us were the sounds of beeping machines, monitoring heartrate, blood pressure and so much more, plus the mechanical but rhymical breathing of the ventilator making sure he took in enough oxygen. I still remember one of the doctors running through all the potential problems he could develop, such as permanent disabilities or brain issues, and I wondered if it would be better if he didn’t survive; compared to an impairment that would prevent him from ever having a normal life. It feels awful that my mind even went there, but maybe that’s normal? However, despite initially struggling to come to terms with what was happening I started to bond a little more with my son by Saturday (he was born on the Thursday evening).
By Saturday Gail was expressing an impressive amount of breastmilk, which meant we were both able to feed our son using a syringe that allowed us to carefully inject the milk into his feeding tube. We felt we couldn’t keep referring to him simply as “our baby” or “our son” and he needed a name, so we very swiftly came to the agreement that he would be “Lewis”. It was much easier than we’d imagined! Later that day I logged into Hearts TV for St Mirren v Hearts, which felt slightly odd as I’d normally be commentating on the match. Rob Borthwick had agreed to cover for me, so Lewis and I tuned into our first game together. I rested my phone on the side of his incubator and talked him through the teams and although we could both hear the dulcet tones of Mr Borthwick (who did excellently on his own, by the way) I chipped in with a few of my own thoughts on the game. This was the first time I’d really spoken to my son, typical that I needed a bit of football to spark the conversation! Anyway, a 2-0 win for the men in maroon and Lewis was off to the perfect start as a Jambo.
Over the next couple of days both Gail and I were able to change Lewis’ nappy, which was wonderful to be able to do despite the circumstances. He was such a wriggly little boy, kicking his legs out when you tried to get the nappy off and yanking at his wires with his tiny hands. Apparently, all of this was very encouraging, despite it being a bit of a nuisance at the same time. He would also squeeze our finger very tightly if we tried to hold his hand, which gave me a rush unlike anything else I’d felt before. The reports we were getting from clinical staff each day were that Lewis was doing remarkably well for his age and that he was stable. This allowed us to get into a routine of going home for a rest when required and then returning to the hospital to spend as much of each day as possible by his bedside. But there was always the caveat from the doctors, warning us that any premature baby is at high risk of contracting an infection or developing other medical issues that could lead to complications.
I’d been doing bits of work remotely, mainly from my phone, since Lewis’ first weekend, but his stability allowed me to return to the office by Wednesday and also make plans to get back to commentary for Hearts TV. So, I caught up with a few things in the office, as well as having a catch up with a few colleagues, that afternoon, before making the journey to Tynecastle. On the way I met up with a couple of good friends, Alistair and Adam, and it felt good to talk about what had happened, to let them know about Lewis and begin to allow everything to feel more ‘real’. That evening I commentated on an impressive display from Hearts, as they defeated Aberdeen 2-0. Gail was at the hospital with Lewis and put the match on Hearts TV, so my son was listening in (his eyes weren’t even open yet) to my commentary. Two wins from two, without a goal conceded. What a start to life as a Hearts fan for my wee boy!
I think the period around the Aberdeen match, and just afterwards, was a real high point in this whole episode. We felt like we had a routine and could balance our lives with Lewis’ care at the neonatal unit. We were both involved in his feeding and care, in addition to spending lots of time chatting to him and reading him plenty of stories (Gail was reading him Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, while I was going through a book of Enid Blyton short stories). We had allowed ourselves to start talking about when Lewis got home, maybe painting a wall blue in the nursery and all the things we could do with him, taking him to the park, maybe visiting the Isle of Lewis, going to the football, introducing him to his cousins, meeting his grandparents; all the ‘normal’ things that parents think about, I suppose! But on Friday 4th March, a little over a week after Lewis’ dramatic birth, things took a turn for the worse.
On the Friday morning, just before we left the flat to make our journey to the hospital, Gail received a call. It was one of the doctors, advising her that Lewis had a bad night and there was an issue with his bowel. Our little bubble had been burst, abruptly, and the short drive to the hospital was a nervous one. When we arrived at the unit there were several clinical staff around Lewis’ incubator, with furrowed brows and concerned expressions on their faces. When Gail saw our boy, she burst into tears. I felt the emotion rising inside me but managed to swallow it and tried to listen to what we were being told. Terms such as “life-threating” and “critical” were thrown around, with the severity of the situation not lost on us. The inflammation meant that Lewis wouldn’t be able to have any more milk and his bowel would be completely rested. Surgery might be required, so there would be an examination from a surgeon shortly. The doctor, who was certainly candid, informed us that Lewis may well die in the next day; so we should take photos and videos (“make memories”) and notify family members. If things hadn’t sunk in by that point, then they truly did in that moment. Not only did I have a son, but I had a very sick son who was in a critical condition. In a similar fashion to when Gail was going through the trauma of Lewis’ birth just over a week prior, I felt the natural instinct to stay strong; this time not just for the woman I loved, but for my child as well. We didn’t want to leave him that day and eventually spent around 14 hours at his side, until we were convinced by the doctor on duty to go home and rest. We’d enquired a few times about somewhere to stay at the hospital, but unfortunately they didn’t have any rooms available. So just after 1am we arrived home, for a very unsettled sleep.
Saturday, 5th March, was the first time I could remember that Hearts were playing and I cared very little about the result. Lewis was on morphine by this point, so the wriggly wee boy that we’d become accustomed to was very sedated and still. The hospital managed to find a room for us that day, which meant we could stay just one floor up from the neonatal unit. It wasn’t the nicest accommodation, but it allowed us to stay close by and this helped Gail especially. There were only blankets though, no duvets, so I had to retrieve some sleeping bags from the car to keep us warm. There were points, when we let ourselves forget about the grave nature of the situation, that it all felt like a bit of an adventure. But I think those moments were coping mechanisms more than anything, distracting ourselves from the stress and emotional strain we were both under.
Sunday was a significant day for Gail, as she was able to pick up her son for the first time. The incubator needed to be changed, which meant Lewis had to be lifted from his current one and held as the new one was put into position. Although she couldn’t properly cuddle him, she was overcome with emotion as she held his entire body in her hands for the very first time. I remember hoping with every fibre of my being that our boy would pull through and this wouldn’t be the closest thing mum would get to embracing her son. She deserved more, HE deserved more.
We felt Lewis had been doing better over the weekend, but by Tuesday we were told he was actually getting worse. The doctor reiterated the danger he was in and again it all became a bit much for Gail, but I continued to gulp down the feeling of crying that was starting to fill my throat. The clinical staff were monitoring Lewis very closely by this point; scan after scan, x-ray after x-ray, test after test. Still no suggestion that surgery was a viable option, but his kidneys were now struggling and he was getting quite swollen as a result. My thoughts started to get away from me a bit at this point, as I’m a bit of an overthinker. You know those flash-forwards that you get in TV and film, the ones that get torn away from someone when there is a tragedy? Well, it genuinely felt like that. Images of me taking Lewis to the football, or celebrating a birthday, or his first day of school; all fading away like a distant dream. I started to feel envious and bitter. I could see some parents cradling their babies around us in the ward, I heard a doctor telling a colleague about their son starting university. It all felt so unfair. Later that evening the hospital upgraded us to a room on the neonatal unit, just a few yards down the corridor from our son. It was a much nicer room, but I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling about why we were being shifted so much closer.
There was a strange serenity about the Tuesday night, which I can’t really explain. Gail read Lewis some Harry Potter early on, while I held his hand. He still squeezed my finger every now and again, although he felt weaker. Gail was exhausted so I persuaded her to go to bed at some point after 11pm, but I decided to stay up. I think she felt more comfortable going to sleep if she knew I was still at his side. In the end I sat beside Lewis until around 3am, writing in a notebook about everything that was going on, reading him stories and just spending some time with my son. For the first time he opened both of his eyes that night, which provided mixed feelings. It felt like he was becoming more like a little person, but at the same time was slipping away from us.
Wednesday, 9th March, 2022 is a day that will stay with me for the rest of my days, unfortunately as one of, if not the, worst of my life. We had a meeting with the doctor that morning and he informed us that Lewis had worsened overnight and although they would keep supporting him for 24 hours, after that it was probably time to think about “making him comfortable” and “letting nature take its course”. I nodded and thanked him politely, but I could feel something building inside me. Something I didn’t think I could swallow or fight against on this occasion. Gail was reacting bravely, holding herself together, but as soon as I got the opportunity I made a beeline for the exit and hurried along the corridor to our room. As soon as I was inside, I burst into tears. Uncontrollable, deep, sobbing. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried, let alone tears like this. I hadn’t felt a pain like this before. As I wept my throat started to feel like it was closing up, all of that swallowing down my tears when I should have been swallowing my pride. I’ve dealt with the “usual” emotional challenges of life, losing loved ones, family health scares, relationship heartbreak; nothing compared to this, though. My son hadn’t even properly been introduced into the world, yet here he was in his final hours. I was in the room for about an hour, trying to stop crying. Gail came through and comforted me, I couldn’t believe the strength she was showing. There’s probably something healthy about steadily letting emotions out, not bottling them up. We’d been due to register Lewis that afternoon, an appointment that I had to postpone. It made it feel even worse, the fact we’d not even had the opportunity to register his name yet. Like he hadn’t even been given the chance to be Lewis Dunsire yet. At that moment, I felt so much guilt for ever thinking that not surviving might be better than a potential permanent disability. At that moment, I just wanted my son to live.
The rest of that Wednesday was extremely difficult. We spent every hour we could with Lewis, speaking to him and reading him stories in between the tears. We felt anger and frustration at what was happening and openly said we would prefer if there was a “Hail Mary” situation; a chance that surgery could save him, however risky, but it gave us some hope and it would either go one way or the other. But this was not so dramatic, just watching him steadily deteriorate until he was gone. Despite everything, our little fighter saw out the rest of the day and even the night, and was still with us on Thursday morning.
Thursday 10th March. Strangely, surprisingly, this day was not as hard as the one that preceded it. But I did have a feeling of dread before our morning meeting with the doctor. I think we both knew what was coming. Regardless of the readings from all of his machines, or the results of blood tests and ultrasound scans, Lewis was visibly getting worse, almost unrecognisable from even a week earlier. The doctor sat down with us beside our son’s incubator around midday. I could feel my heart racing, even though I already knew by the look on his face what we were about to discuss. The word “impossible” was used in reference to his chances of recovery, which meant the time had come to plan for the end. We would be able to spend some time with Lewis out of the incubator, so we could hold him properly and actually cuddle him. Then, at the end, all the remaining wires and tubes, including the ventilator that was keeping him breathing, would be removed and in his final moments would be with both of us, without any machines or equipment in the way. I asked the doctor, through my tears, if he would be in any pain. He assured me that our son would be in no physical discomfort and it would all be very peaceful. Due to Lewis’ condition worsening before our eyes, we made the decision to spend that quality time with our son very soon after our conversation with the doctor. So, he was moved to our room, where he would spend his final hours on earth.
It may appear odd that I said this day was not as hard as the previous, considering what transpired. But, despite it being hugely challenging, it was actually the nicest day we’d had with our son. It was the first time we properly got to hold him, the first time we weren’t wearing surgical masks to speak to him and the first time it really felt like it was just the three of us. No nurses or doctors, no other babies or families around us in the unit, far less machines and Lewis not inside a plastic casing for the first time for any prolonged period. We told him more stories, we stroked his head and kissed him, we listened to music together and we even took some ink footprints. I’d never quite understood people documenting moments of grief before, but now we were in such a moment it made a lot of sense. Both Gail and I took many photos and videos, most of which will only ever be for us, and the idea of mementos, such as the prints of his little feet that we made, was very comforting. It was the closest we were going to get to being a proper family, and we savoured every moment. As the afternoon wore on, we could see he was starting to slip away. His eyes were gradually closing and his breathing a little more strained. We would never hear our baby cry, but as his breaths got raspier it did almost sound like his voice, ever so slightly. We made the decision that it was time and after the doctor administered a little extra morphine for Lewis, the nurse removed his ventilator. Both mum and dad were able to hold their son close in the final moments and as I picked him up fully for the first, and last, time he squeezed my finger ever so slightly and I felt him take a breath as I held him to my chest. At around 5pm on Thursday 10th March 2022, just two weeks after he’d arrived so dramatically into the world, Lewis Dunsire, our son, passed away in his parents’ arms.
I’m still coming to terms with everything that occurred over the last few weeks. Next weekend we move into our new house, which we bought to ensure we had space for our child, but now I fear it will feel incredibly empty. Our boy wasn’t even due to be born until 13th June, but now we are arranging his funeral in March. I was very keen to tell Lewis’ story, partly as a cathartic exercise for myself but also because I hate the thought of his life just being two weeks in a hospital and then forgotten. I need to let people know that he existed and what he went through. He was only with us for a brief period, but his memory will live on. Farewell Lewis, your mum and dad miss you every day and we will always love you.
Absolutely heart wrenching stuff man. I wish you and your partner all the best moving forward. My parents went through something similar with my little sister. Be strong for each other and you will be OK❤️
Thinking of you both at this desperately sad time, Laurie. Take care.
My thought and prayers are with you and Gail. Absolutely heartbreaking news. My sincere condolences for the loss of Lewis.
I’m so so sorry for your loss Laurie, this was heart-wrenching. I’m sorry anyone in the world, never mind you, would have to come to this. My thoughts are with you and Gail in this expectedly difficult time ❤
Sitting reading this with tears streaming down my face. Absolutely heartbreaking. It was very brave of you to put this up. Please accept my condolences on your loss.
I can only send my deepest condolences. I have been where you are and it’s heartbreaking. Best thing I can say is both of you take your time most things in life can wait. Take care of each other and slowly life will start to seem normal. Never the same but normality does return. We will all welcome you back into out Maroon obsessed world whenever you are ready. Love to you both, Bruce
I can only imagine how distraught you and your good lady must be at this sad time. I had tears in my eyes reading your relation of the few days. There are no words that can possibly help in theses dark times but be assured that everyone who has read your words will be willing you to come through this. RIP Lewis Dunsire.
So sorry for your loss. An incredibly moving and heart felt piece of writing. Although Lewis was your key focus your compassion and strength for your partner Gail is evident. You both can be very proud of the parentsvand partners you were to each other. Incredible couple you are
God bless you both and heaven has a wee angel in Lewis. Broken hearted for you xxx
As a parent this is a harrowing story. But you have put yourself and your situation so eloquently and honestly , that I have the utmost respect and sympathy for you and your partner. I hope little Lewis knows how much he is loved and you both get to meet him again in another time and place. ❤️
Heartbreaking story, God bless Lewis, Gail and yourself.
I’m so sorry to read this Laurie, my sincere condolences to you and Gail. My daughter went through something similar with her own son and my first grandchild. All was going well until suddenly it wasn’t. A very painful period for all concerned. And now 7 years later, she has three girls and I have 6 grandchildren. But my daughter will never forget the son who never had a chance to go on. I wish you and Gail the strength to carry on and build your own brighter happier future together. And it’s OK to never forget Lewis. Best wishes.
I am so deeply sorry for your loss, as parents and as a family. What an absolutely beautiful boy. Lewis will always be your son, I’m just sorry he didn’t get to stay for longer. Thank you for sharing this, not an easy thing to do but keep talking about how you feel and that gorgeous boy of yours. Sending so much love to you both x
Tears, tears and more tears. God bless the both of you and may your future be bright and healthy, this story will remain with me for life and so with this, Lewis will be remembered by many.
Dear Laurie and Gail,
This is such a sad yet beautiful thing to have written.
Clearly no words can capture the love you will always feel for Lewis, nor your incredible sense of loss, but somehow you have found the strength and clarity of thought to have written so soulfully.
On behalf of my wife and I, please accept our most sincere condolences.
Sleep tight Lewis 💜
God Bless the Dunsire family 🙏
This was the most heart rendering story to read. I can’t begin to imagine the feelings of you and your wife. I cried. It was incredibly brave of you to write it. I hope life treats you better in the future. Sincere best wishes for you both and for the memory of young Lewis who made his mark in such a short time.
What a beautiful and fitting account of your sons short life.
I hope that you and Gail get all the support you need to come to terms with your loss
Don’t feel guilty about being able to escape to your love of Hearts.
It’s times like this that you need the distraction and some normality. Not to mention the support you will receive.
I’m thinking about you and Gail and this time
Ann McLean
Just a little note about me. I’m 60years old and have supported Hearts for the majority of them. My Dad was the groundsman (Willie Montgomery) As my Mum and Dad worked on a Saturday, I would sit on the wall in the enclosure and was given money to buy a juice and a wagon wheel. My Dad was the groundsman for 40 years and he got me wee jobs like serving pies to the away team players and the press. I also occasionally helped with cleaning the old stand. My Dad would run the away team bath and a couple of my pals and I would take our swimming costumes and we had the bath to ourselves! My memories of being able to wander about Tynecastle are priceless.
When I got bowel cancer in 1998 the Hearts were my normality and my lifeline. I was at Parkhead to see them winning the Scottish Cup in the May (which I would say is one of the best days of my life) to finding out during a routine procedure in June that I had bowel cancer. It had spread to the lining on my bowel therefore I had surgery within a week and six months of chemotherapy. I remember the feeling of gratitude at having the Hearts games to take me away from all my worries. I’m now over 20 years clear of cancer and still going to Tynecastle.
Lawrie & Gail thank you for sharing a real personal experience x
Genuinely in tears reading this your pain is palpable. I am so sorry that this happen to you and Gail and wish I could send you some comfort at this the saddest of times. No words will ever be enough.
Just know that your Jambo family are thinking of you. Take time to process and heal from this tragic loss, be strong for each other. Rest in peace Little Lewis 💙
❤️ I’m so, so sorry for you and your families loss, Laurie. Life just isn’t fair. My thoughts and love are with you at this sad time.
Look after yourselves and thank you for sharing brave Lewis’, all too short, story. ❤️
Heartbreaking to write, and to read, but such a moving tribute to your beautiful son who will always be Held In Our Hearts ♥️
This is utterly heart wrenching Laurie. Incredible courage to write about such personal and devastating experience, and with such honesty. It has really moved me and stopped me in tracks this afternoon. Whilst you don’t know me other than a name on a screen, my heart goes out to you, Gail and Lewis. I’ll pray for you all and for Lewis to be at peace.
Laurie,
Firstly and ultimately, I just wanted to send my upmost condolences. You have shown bravery beyond any means in sharing wee Lewis’ story. My heart aches for both yourself and Gail. I just hope you’ve found some sort of inner peace after getting all the words down and shared it with us.
There are some fantastic organisations out there to help if you need someone to talk to or if it helps, I am more than happy to be a soundboard if you need to speak to someone outwith of your close family and friends.
Take care.
Rest in Peace Lewis.
Wonderful piece of writing Laurie. I’m moved to tears myself. Stay strong for Gail and for your own sake. On Saturday 17000 Hearts fans will be thinking of your little son. Gone but never forgotten.
Laurie, I don’t know you but having spent hours listening to you I feel like do. All I can say is that I’m so so sorry for your loss and thank you for being so honest and telling Lewis story. Your thoughts and feelings are ones we all have and never say out loud but you have been brave enough to share them at what must be the most unimaginably painful time. Very brave, very honest and very passionate, your son would be proud to call you his Dad and your partner his Mum. Rest in peace little Lewis
Laurie, my heart goes out to you and your wife reading this is utterly heart wrenching and I can’t possibly imagine what you went through !
So sorry for your loss Laurie . I can’t imagine what you both went through . My thoughts and prayers are with you all . God bless . Rest in peace Lewis ❤ xx
My “Sincere Condolences” To You #Both & May “Lewis Dunsire” R.I.P My #Angel!
I take my hat of to you for having the strength to be able to write such a moving tribute and story of Lewis’s life. My sincere condolences to you both. I hope time and memories will help heal your pain.
I don’t know you and you don’t know me but after reading your story I hair felt compelled to write something, anything.
Your words are a beautiful tribute to your son and I’m so sorry for your loss. My heart broke for you all as I read your story. Every sentence I digested, I was desperately hoping that the next one would present that miracle you were hoping for.
Life is so fragile and I will definitely hold my loved ones that little bit tighter tonight.
Love to you and Gail and little Lewis xx
What a beautifully crafted story. You brought tears to my eyes.
I am so sad and sorry, how lucky Lewis was to have been loved so much.
I think you will have tough times ahead , you will have to be strong for Gail.
I’m sure you will be getting great support from your family but remember you have us , Jambos and fans of SAtF who admire you and wish both of you love and good health.
I’m in tears. My heart breaks for you both. As a mum to a son who was on full life support when he was born, I know the beeps, the sats, the hepiscrub (that smell will haunt me forever) and the terror all too well. My son survived and i know that’s as much luck as anything else. Fly high Lewis. Much love xx
This was beautiful and sad in equal measure, i send my love and prayers to you and Gail.
Oh no. I don’t know you, Laurie, but I’m in floods of tears right now. My heart is aching for you and Gail and your beautiful boy, Lewis. I know you’ll never be truly “over” this, and nor will you want to be. I hope brighter days lie ahead for you and Gail. Lewis will always be your firstborn. RIP, Angel
What a beautiful, painful, and loving story. A parent grief for their children must be the most painful. My thoughts and love are with Lewis’s loving parents.
My thoughts are with both of you and your brave little son who clearly fought very hard of which you will be very proud. So sorry you never got to take him to a Hearts game but sure he will be with you at every game you are at going forward. Best wishes to you for the future – Brian Leitch (Gala Foxes on Twitter)
Hi Laurie.
I’m in awe of your strength to write this piece, so soon after the passing of Lewis. I was in tears throughout, so I can’t imagine how you managed to so powerfully convey your thoughts and feelings during such a sad time.
I wish you and Gail the very best in the future.
I only recently discovered something that followers of Judaism say after the passing of a person – “May their memory be a blessing”. I can think of a more apt phrase to apply to Lewis.
Much love and may Lewis’ memory be a blessing for you both.
Hi Laurie. I regularly listen to your podcasts and interact with you over social media.
Although I may not directly know you, I feel like I do. In the current situation there is no advise I could give to help. If I would advise anything, stay close with the ones you love and treasure what you have.
HHGH, Connor.
This is one of the most moving things I’ve ever read. It’s very very rare that something reduces me to tears but this got me. An incredibly honest, candid account of an unimaginable situation. So sorry for your loss
So very sorry for your sad loss. Lewis will forever be in your Hearts. The love you have for your baby boy comes through strongly. Time does find a way of healing & I know will both find this. Love & best wishes.🙏❤
Laurie/Gail, no words except I’m so so sorry for you both.
Laurie – that was beautifully written and would make wee Lewis so proud to have such loving parents.
I will never pretend to understand how awful it’s been for you both but you’ve opened up a massive part of you and Gail in your words. It’s just so brave and so commendable.
I don’t know you but have listened and enjoyed your spraffing so much.
As a Jambo I benefited from the first Hearts Changing Room (on YouTube/Changing Room/Movember) where one of the messages in helping people is to talk.
Your words, albeit written, are an absolute tribute to you, and to Gail too.
Derek Allan
07968 134567
That is such a brave and important story of your son’s short but meaningful life. Thank you for sharing it. We lost three babies due to miscarriage and sadly our eldest son and daughter-in-law are going through the same experience for the third time. Take care of yourself and your wife, I wish you much happier days ahead of you both.
What a heart wrenching story Laurie, beautifully written & at the same time so unbelievably sad.
I wish you and Gail all the very best in the future, your son may be gone but will never be forgotten, please hold on to that.
From all your Jambo Family, stay strong!
what a beautiful and heart felt story .. my heart breaks for you and ur wife.. bless yous both and little lewis
From this terrible darkness I wish you all nothing but light and hope to cope with this dreadful loss
John Gillan
Having a baby due in June, just broken my heart reading this laurie .
Those memories of Lewis are forever mate I’m saying a prayer for you and Gail.
God bless you both x
I’m so so sorry Laurie 😥
My wife and I went through something not as heart wrenching but never the less emotional . My daughter arrived 4 weeks early and we were told she would have to stay until her due date in ICU , the whole day was spent in hospital pre birth from our appointment with the midwife at 9am until she was delivered at 20.42 that night , she was whisked away to ICU on arrival and stayed there while my wife got cleaned up ready to see our newborn for the first time . I left the hospital around 3am to try and get some rest , dont think i slept at all that night , all things going through my head , good things , bad things , the joy , dread ,emotions . Anyway i returned next morning and was directed to my wifes room , she had just had breakfast delivered when we were informed we were needed in ICU . Our baby girl had collapsed , I was numb , swelling on her brain , the next few hours without seeing her had made me a snivelling wreck , scans , x rays , meetings with doctors , I took nothing in, like I never heard them , or seen them . In my case my baby daughter grew stronger and stronger each day and only when we eventually got her home did we really feel that she was home to stay . Shes 18 now and we love every ounce of her , forever grateful to each and every member of the hospital that has ever worked there or been a part of the fabric of simpsons maternity for my daughters health , I hope that time heals your pain or at least dulls it a little , my hope for you and gail is that you are blessed with another child soon to help you along your healing process . ❤️
I am so sorry for this devastating loss Laurie. These out of natural order life events are cruel, mind-altering, earth shattering and unimaginably painful. Let yourself grieve your way, be it writing, retreating, raising awareness when it feels right, and be kind and gentle to yourself and same to your wife. Lewis is a wee legend, and really will Live Forever in your hearts ♥️
Laurie and Gail
I can’t begin to imagine your pain. Please know that you guys and Lewis will always be in my thoughts and prayers.
Lawrence
Lewis is beautiful. My son, Alfie Sam, was born sleeping in 2003. I had a website with his story and it helped so much. I had a second child in 2013 and spent 9 months terrified of what might happen. Then in 2015 I had another child and she entered PICU at 11 days with heart failure and over the next few weeks entered end organ failure. We lived at the hospital during this time with our two year old. When all hope was lost a scan showed minimal improvement, completely unexpected, and eventually she came home. You have an amazing child and memories to cherish. Alfie should have been 19 on March 3. I look at the few photos I have holding him and think what could have been, what should have been. I miss him terribly now and not a day goes by I don’t think about him. It does get easier, less painful. I hope life becomes a little easier, the memories less painful. With love from my family to yours.
So beautifully written.
So sad. So strong.
Your son will always shine. Xx
My son was born at 24 weeks in Edinburgh Royal Infirmary and didn’t manage to take a breath. March 23rd would have been his 18th birthday. I think of him so often and with such love, and reading your account of Lewis’ life brought it back very strongly. Much love to you and your partner and you’re absolutely right that letting your emotions out is important. It will get easier, time doesn’t exactly heal, but the fierceness of grief subsides. My memories of Charlie are now surprisingly positive.
One thing my ex said at the time was that his birth awakened all the kindness in the world. That’s always stuck with me.
Take care.
Nothing is strong as the memory that lives on. What a moving piece of writing. Heart goes out to you both ❤️
Geordie, my heart goes out to you both ,my tears are for all the little ones lost so young . I also nursed i call it ,till his last breath. May god be with yous ,keep each other in comfort and strength. Sorry for your loss xox
I’m a grown man with tears streaming down my face, love to you all xxx.
My heart is absolutely broken for you and Gail, Laurie. Life is so unfair. You make me laugh every single week with your podcast and I love to see your face behind me at Tynecastle (even though you don’t notice me!). You deserve so much happiness, and I was so excited for how your life was moving too: The person who kept me laughing through lockdown and a difficult 2 years. The tears are streaming, and I can’t make anything better. Lewis will be in my heart though, as are you and Gail. Another beautiful Jambo who will always have a legacy. I’m so sorry. Look after each other and hold on tight. xx
Absolutely heart breaking.
I hope you all find comfort soon and cherish the time you had with your little fighter.
Thinking of you both. And I will give the Hearts an extra cheer for Lewis on Saturday and beyond
So heartbreaking to read. Thoughts with you and Gail. R. I. P Lewis, fly high with the angels, 😇
So heartbreaking to read. Thoughts with you and Gail. R. I. P Lewis, fly high with the angels, 😇
Admire your courage to post this, heart wrenching story my thoughts are with you and Gail at this painful time ❤️
Laurie
I’m so sorry for your loss. Life is so unfair.
What a beautiful, courageous piece of writing, No one could read that and not feel the absolute love you and Gail have for Lewis, and each other.
Every time I hear your voice I will think of beautiful Lewis.
Take care of yourselves.
All the best,
Dougie
I find it hard to put into words Laurie the sadness I feel for you, Gail, Lewis and all your family. I admire your bravery in putting your feelings into words and your loss makes it difficult for me to show my sadness. We all may have to go through some period of depression in our lives but the strength you have shown is a huge example to the whole football family. R.I.P. Lewis Dunsire ❤️
Laurie so sorry to hear of your loss, sending you and Gail all my love at this terrible time for you both. R.I.P. Lewis ❤️
My deepest condolences go out to you and Gail and the family. Thank you for sharing. I hope in very small way it provides an element of comfort.. take care. Grant
Deeply sorry for your loss Laurie, can imagine what you have been through.
No parents should go through that.
My heart felt sympathy to you and your wife mate.
So sorry
Steve
I too am reading this with tears streaming down my face. I can’t even begin to imagine what it took to write that, or what you’ve been through. My heart goes out to you both. Lewis may have been with you for all too short a time, but he will remain in your hearts forever.
So sorry for your loss, can’t imagine what you’re going through. Sending you all the strength and best wishes in the world.
I’m so so sorry for your loss. You’re so brave to share this heartache with the world. I hope sometime in the near future you can find a little comfort and peace Shine bright wee man ⭐️
Thank you for giving us the chance to remember Lewis with you, we can feel how loved he is through your beautiful writing. I hope you and Gail are okay, we will be keeping all 3 of you in our thoughts ❤️
Wow. What a road. My heart goes out to you both. Lewis was one lucky boy to have you two for those 2 weeks. Take care
Absolutely heartbreaking Laurie, thoughts are with yous both. So sorry for your loss
Beautiful words Laurie, sending you both all my love.
You have shown great courage in posting such a beautiful piece of writing.I found myself in tears whilst reading it.My heart goes out to you both at such a difficult time.R.I.P.Lewis.
A lovely piece of writing Laurie – I hope it can somehow give you a little comfort too. I have a son called Lewis and it could just as easily have been him. Life, as you say, isn’t fair. All the very best to you and your partner.
Laurie,
We’ve never met, but you’ve given me a shout out several times on heartstv listening in from Ohio. My heart is breaking for you both, I can’t imagine what any of this felt like. So much admiration for you sharing your deepest thoughts here, I hope you feel all the love and support pouring your way.
Laurie and Gail. I am so sorry for your loss. 37 years ago (almost to the day) I went through a very similar experience with the loss of my son Morgan. I would love to say it gets easier – it doesn’t. Thinking of his loss still brings tears. I am now a great grandfather to the latest generation of Hearts supporters. How I would love to have been able to share our triumphs and disappointments with Morgan. Take care of each other.
My heart breaks for you and your beautiful partner. Words will never be a comfort to either of you but your in our thoughts always. I wish you and your mrs all the love in the world. R.I.P Lewis in the arms of the angel, far too precious for this cruel world
I have no concept of how you are both feeling right now, none whatsoever, but know it’s a place I would not want to be in. Take time out, take care of one another and you will come through this (but clearly will never forget).
So sorry for your loss, thinking of use ay this time i am lost for words.
What a heartbreaking piece of writing but so beautifully done. I am sure Lewis knew how much he was loved by you and Gail. Sending you both all my love and strength in the hope it helps a little xx
Don’t know you but don’t need to. Came across this on twitter. Was hard to read. So honest, so real, so unfair. I can’t describe how your words affected me and how hard it was to read through your journey. I wish you both all the love and luck in your lives together and hope you and Gail are given every happiness even though it will never be enough compensation.
I’m another Hearts fan doesn’t know you Laurie but, feel like I do as you’re the voice of the Hearts. It’s your passion for our club unites us and brings us Jambos that can’t make it through to Tynecastle together. Part of a virtual crowd all cheering on the boys in maroon.
Our footballing family sends all its love, thoughts and prayers to you, Gail and your family.
Fly high Lewis.
Your Dad made sure you were known in the most beautiful and heartfelt way.
You were loved and will always be remembered.
Truly heartbreaking and I can’t imagine the pain you are both feeling. RIP Lewis, catch you behind the goals little man ❤️
Take care Laurie.
Thank you for sharing Lewis’ story, he is lucky to have a Daddy and Mummy like you both.
I’m just another Hearts supporter who listens to your pod and did some of the Big Hearts chats over pandemic so don’t know you but am thinking of you all.
Very brave of you to write that and the right thing to do.
Sending love your way. Maybe you can use the power of his life to drive a good cause?
Very sorry for both your loss.
I have no idea how you managed to write such a sad story so utterly beautifully. I’ll raise a glass skywards to Lewis, and think of you and Gail.
I am so sorry for your loss Laurie and Gail. Such a heart felt commemoration of Lewis’ short life which brought me to tears. I am sure you will never forget that feeling of holding your son in your arms or listening to your first Hearts game together. Special memories of which undoubtedly there should have been many more – but special memories to be cherished and remembered forever nonetheless.
Stay strong both of you. Rest in peace Lewis HHGH x
Thank you for sharing Laurie. My thoughts are with you all.
I’m so sorry for your loss! Lewis sounds like a cheeky wee man, giving you a hard time at nappy changes. You don’t know me and I didn’t know Lewis but know his memory will stay with me too. Life is so unfair at times. Please keep talking to each other and don’t bottle things up as much as possible. I’ll keep Lewis and you both in my thoughts.
Heart broken for Gail and yourself, I’m sure Lewis felt the love from you both which is so clear in this tribute to your little boy. I’m so sorry for the loss of your boy Lewis Dunsire.
Beautiful words Laurie. Heartbroken for you all! Sending love to you, Gail and all your family who never got to appreciate and experience wee Lewis 😔 Precious wee boy
Love Sarah and Joe x
Laurie, this is such a beautiful tribute to your beautiful Lewis. Thank you for sharing. You and Gail have undergone unimaginable heartbreak that no one can fix, but I’m hopeful that this piece and (I hope) future writing (this was so eloquent and honest) will help you both to heal bit by bit. Things will never be the same, and life without Lewis will be so hard. Please lean on those around you. We’re here to hold you up. Lots of love to you both xxx
What a tough read that was Laurie can’t even begin to imagine what both you and Gail have gone through. Certainly shed tears reading this even though I don’t know you it is such a heartbreaking story. Wish both of you all the best going forward and will give Hearts an extra cheer on Saturday for Lewis mate.
I’m so sorry for you and your partners loss Laurie, truly heartbreaking.
Beautiful Lewis, an angel too precious for this world ❤️
I am so very sorry to read of your loss Laurie. The raw emotion can be felt by just reading your words. i cant imagine the pain you feel after what you have both been through. Thanks for Sharing and our thoughts are with you and Gail at this time.
Laurie, that might be the most difficult thing I have ever had to read and it is so incredibly brave of you both to share such personal insight into your experience. Perhaps, hopefully, this might give others who have to go through the same heartbreak some comfort that they are not alone.
My thoughts go out to both yourself and Gail. Take care.
Alistair
Laurie, I can’t even begin to imagine what you and Gail are going through at the moment 💔 That has to be one of the most eloquent pieces of writing I’ve read – and so brave to share such a personal tragedy and give us an insight in to what you are going through. I know you have a strong network of friends and family to support you, but please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do… sending big bosies to you both from Aberdeen 💕 Nx
So ,so sorry for you and Gail. You all deserved more. You should have been able to cheer him on in whatever sport he liked, shouted at him once he got to his teens, gone out for a drink before his wedding, held your grandchild. I am glad you had some time with him and you both held him. My goodness, he really fought to live. I never ever break down but when I read that he squeezed yout finger, it us so ething that will stay with me. I hope writing this has helped you. It has made me feel grateful for my life and family.
Laurie, Beautiful words a lovely tribute to wee Lewis Dunsire.
Thank you for sharing your story. My thoughts are with you and Gail.
Keith
One if the most heartbreaking and difficult pieces I’ve ever read, and I can only imagine how hard this was to both write and experience. Hopefully there are far better times for you both in the years ahead, and Lewis will never be forgotten.
All the best wishes to you, Gail and all your family during this time.
Amazing tribute to Lewis. Very courageous putting this down in words and I hope that it will help you in some small way. I wish you and Gail all the best. Lewis’ memory will live on in your words and thoughts.
I’m so sorry Laurie ❤️
Heartbreaking story to read but it’s amazing the strength you have shown to be open and candid about your thoughts and feelings. I am so sorry for your loss.
I send you and your wife all the thoughts and prayers in the world at this difficult time.
RIP Lewis Dunsire.
Laurie,
You have written a wonderful tribute to Lewis and your and Gail’s love for him. I am so sorry for your loss.
I am 49 years old and became a father for the first time just three months ago. The strength of emotion and love for your son that you describe resonates so strongly and like many of those who have commented above I am crying now.
I hope you and Gail can find peace and happiness together in the future.
A big hug
Charlie
I’m so sorry for your loss and love to the both of you. I can’t imagine how you are both feeling but your words are so moving and a wonderful tribute to Lewis. Look after each other and remember he’ll be forever smiling down on you both. Raman
That was so hard to read with tears in my eyes mate, so I can only imagine how hard it must have been to write. My thoughts are with you, Gail and your families and I hope you can take strength and comfort from the time you did get to spend with wee Lewis. If won’t seem like it right now, but time is a great healer.
I’m in bits after reading that. I’m so sorry for your loss and everything you went through. Lewis will forever be with you and I hope there’s at least a tiny bit of comfort in knowing that. I truly wish you both all the best.
😢 I belatedly tuned into the Hearts game, you weren’t commentating today and I wondered where you were.
I went to your Twitter and saw the pinned tweet and have tears as I write this.
My heart goes out to both you and Gail.
God bless you Lewis
RIP – Thoughts with tou and your wife
Dear Laurie and Gail,
Words are never enough sometimes for someone to express their sorrow for the loss of someone so precious and vulnerable.
The loss of someone so young and who never had a chance of life here on earth is one of the most difficult things to comprehend. Rest assured that Lewis is safe and well in the company of Jesus. It’s something many people can’t and won’t understand but when we realise and even accept it, it brings such a comfort to you and to Gail.
Gob bless
So beautifully written and straight from your heart. These things shouldn’t happen but unfortunately they do but I am so glad you got to hold and cuddle your wee boy and that will have meant so much at this awful time . Hopefully you will get questions answered in time about why your partner was let home and although it won’t bring your baby Lewis back it may mean it may not happen again to someone else♥️ My friends grandson was stillborn over 18 months ago and they set up the Hope foundation(he was called Hope) and are doing what they can to help raise awareness of these awful tragedies ❤️❤️
Really moved by your story, 2 years ago our daughter was diagnosed with cancer at 2 years old and so many of your emotions mirrored mine. Keep your chin up you’ll never forget him.
Absolutely heart breaking for you both. I cannot even bear to think of how I would have coped in your situation. Much love to you both.
Words won’t be able to describe the pain I feel for you, Gail and Lewis. But I know for certain, the pain I feel is no where near the pain yous have had to endure and are still enduring. My thoughts go out to you and Gail and I hope the future holds a much steadier road for you both. Lewis will live on through the memories yous created in this hospital ward. Stay strong ❤️
I couldn’t possibly find the words to express how sad I was to read that. My thoughts are with you and Gail at this incredibly difficult time. RIP Lewis.
Your sharing was moving and heartbreaking. My thoughts are for you and Gail. RIP Lewis.
My heart hurts for you, Gail & Lewis.
My partner and I went through a very similar experience in 2018, our daughter, Faith, was born at 24w & 1d. Faith survived 5 weeks and 2 days, and Harry Potter books were a go to for us. ❤️
If I can give you one piece of advice, it’s never stop talking about Lewis, never fear mentioning his name in case you upset someone, he is and always will be your baby boy.
Be kind to yourselves. Time doesn’t heal, but we are resilient … days are just different, life is different, but by surviving and living and celebrating our babies, they live on in us 💕 XxX 💫