Golf For Sands
“All for one and one for all, united we stand divided we fall” Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers
On Thursday 13 June 2024, I took to the road in the GYH-mobile (as I like to think of my Volkswagen Passat these days) and headed for Sandwich, Kent. What lay ahead of me on Friday 14 June, was an attempt to play as many holes of Golf as possible at Prince’s Golf Club, in support of Sands.
For anyone reading this who is unfamiliar with Sands, they are one of the UK’s leading Baby Loss charities, working to save babies' lives and ensure that anyone affected by pregnancy or baby loss gets the support and care they need, for as long as they need it. As a bereaved father, continuing to grieve the loss of my son, Innes, their cause is one that is very close to my heart.
Knowing that I was teaming up for the challenge with my close friend, fellow bereaved father and regular GYH podcast contributor, Ben Seabrook, helped me to feel calm and confident about what lay ahead. I was also feeling excited about meeting our third team member, Mike Harris, in person for the first time.
“Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself” Mohsin Hamid
Mike, an experienced and well known face within Golf media, was someone I was already familiar with from afar. As the Creative Director and former editor of Golf Monthly - a magazine I have read a number times over the years - I had previously only known Mike as a face on a page, who warmly greeted me each time I pulled open the front cover.
Yet, soon after launching Golf Yourself Healthy, I came to learn of Mike’s experience with Baby Loss, having lost his son, Christopher in 2007 and his daughter, Rohaise, in 2010. I felt compelled to contact him. Of course, my usual self doubt and imposter syndrome convinced me that someone of Mike’s standing would neither have the time, nor inclination to entertain any contact from me.
When I eventually summoned the courage to message him on 11 March 2024, he replied almost instantly. We arranged to speak on the phone a few days later. In that conversation, we had a very open, honest and vulnerable chat, of the kind which I have found to be rare amongst fellow men, particularly those with whom you’ve only just become properly acquainted. We spoke about various topics, amongst which we touched on Mike’s experience of having undertaken the Golf for Sands challenge in 2023, in memory of Christopher and Rohaise.
Soon after our chat that day, Mike got in touch again to float the suggestion of us joining forces to take part in the 2024 iteration of the challenge. I hesitated at first. Whilst the offer of playing Golf all day at one of the UK’s best golf courses doesn’t require much persuasion, I had some misgivings.
“Vulnerability is not about winning or losing. It’s having the courage to show up when you can’t control the outcome” Brené Brown
As I’ve talked about on multiple occasions on the Golf Yourself Healthy podcast - including Episode 11 (Golf for Sands) which supplements this article - in the early stages of my grief after losing Innes, I threw myself into multiple projects and new commitments.
Within a month of Innes’ passing, I’d been elected to the Board of Directors at my Golf Club and had also returned to work full-time. I invited pressure and stress upon myself, when I least needed it. Moreover, rather than taking time for myself to fully process my grief, I instead chose to people please and seek external validation.
I try to give myself grace, as looking back on it now, I believe that in the early stages of my grief, my judgements were clouded, preventing me from seeing things clearly. However, in failing to apply my own oxygen mask, I also then fell short when it came to supporting my wife, Kim, who would have benefited from me being more present in her time of grief.
With all of this in mind, Grief has taught me to pause, take stock and put mine and my family’s needs first, before committing to anything. More pointedly, however, was the fear I felt at the thought of mine and Innes’ story being subjected to media spotlight or public attention, as a result of me doing the Golf for Sands challenge.
Given that I’ve previously stated that Innes is my inspiration behind creating GYH, this may sound strange to some of you reading this. However, the truth is that I feel shame for the circumstances surrounding Innes’ passing. Baby Loss is already a taboo subject, but when it involves TFMR (Termination for Medical Reasons), it runs deeper.
Despite having been given a prognosis for Innes which was not only serious, but also bereft of hope, it does nothing to remove my shame around the “decision” to end the pregnancy. I place the word “decision” between inverted commas, because like so many other parents who have experienced TFMR, when you’re presented with a such a desperate prognosis for your baby, it feels as if the matter has been decided for you already and your only role in this scenario is to provide your consent for termination.
Yet, the thought of people knowing all of this and casting aspersions and judgements in my direction was giving me real anxiety. After giving it some thought and reminding myself of the commitment I made to Innes at his funeral - to forever speak his name proudly and to allow him to live vicariously through me - I decided that doing this challenge was the right thing to do. If anyone disagrees with or takes offence at the decision I made for Innes, I cannot control that. As for the commitment I made to him…well, that is firmly within my sphere of control and I feel feverishly motivated to honour it.
“Shame dies where stories are told in safe spaces” - Ann Voskamp
By the time the challenge came around, I was giddy with excitement. Any anxious feelings I’d been feeling beforehand had all but completely dissipated. When Ben, Mike and I turned up at Prince’s Golf Club on Friday 14 June, not even the rain which delayed our planned 5am start could dampen our spirits.
From the first tee shot at around 5:30am, through until the final putt on the 54th hole at around 7pm at night, a healthy dose of banter, camaraderie and rapport flowed throughout. Walking off the golf course that evening, my feet throbbed from the day’s escapades. As we dragged our weary bodies off the course and went to check into our accommodation, you could sense that the GYH podcast recording we had planned to mark the occasion was at risk of being kiboshed. We could barely move, let alone form coherent sentences.
After taking ourselves to our respective quarters to freshen up, we reconvened for dinner. With food in our bellies and a second wind prevailing, we found the energy to set up a makeshift podcast recording studio and take to the Mics. We reflected on the day that had been and indulged in some self deprecating banter about lost balls, shanked shots and bruised egos.
As the conversation evolved, I listened intently to what Ben and Mike were saying. I felt inspired by their account of living with the grief of Baby Loss and the lessons learned, many years on from losing Christopher, Dylan and Rohaise. Their outlook on being true to themselves and not pandering to people pleasing was just what I needed to hear.
Above all, though, I felt drawn in by their companionship. Their willingness to listen to me, support me and create a safe space, in which I could openly share some of my deepest insecurities, felt deeply reassuring. I felt a sense of having been healed from my participation in Golf for Sands, in the company of fellow bereaved fathers.
It all left me feeling more convinced than ever before, that when people come together with shared life experiences, coupled with a willingness to be vulnerable with each other, amazing things happen. What is more, when you Embrace the Rough with the support of others around you, the Fairway always feels within closer reach, than it does when you’re going it alone.
Kris Lynch, June 2024
