Silver star Patron:
Clare Mackintosh
With over 2 million copies of her books sold worldwide, number one bestseller Clare Mackintosh is multi-award-winning author of I Let You Go, which was a Sunday Times bestseller and the fastest-selling title by a new crime writer in 2015. It also won the Theakston Old Peculiar Crime Novel of the Year in 2016.
Both Clare’s second and third novels, I See You and Let Me Lie, were number one Sunday Times bestsellers. All three titles were selected for the Richard & Judy Book Club, and together have been translated into forty languages. Clare’s fourth novel, After the End, was published in June 2019.
Clare spent twelve years as a police officer with Thames Valley police force, working mostly in Oxfordshire. She has been patron of the Silver Star Maternity Fund, since 2016. She now lives in North Wales with her husband and their three children, all born under the care of the Silver Star unit.
Top author shows support for Silver Star Maternity Fund January2019
“I wouldn’t have my family without the Silver Star Unit, and I’m proud and
privileged to be in a position to help the fundraising efforts.”
Award-winning author, Clare Mackintosh, has donated £10,000 to help mum’s-to-be being treated at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford.
This generous donation will fund three state-of-the-art monitors to help analyse the health of the baby and detect potential distress before the onset of labour.
Clare’s Silver Star story
Clare Mackintosh received treatment from the Oxford Fertility Unit in 2006, conceiving non-identical twins. The pregnancy was initially uncomplicated, but Clare’s waters broke at 26 weeks, and she was referred to the Silver Star unit at the John Radcliffe hospital.
Her twin boys were born in November 2006, 12 weeks premature. Whilst in NICU at the JR she lost one of her sons to meningitis. In July 2007 Clare fell naturally pregnant with twin girls. She was referred immediately to the Silver Star unit, where she was looked after by Mr Lawrence Impey and his team. She received constant monitoring and her daughters were born safely at term in February 2008.
“I benefited from exceptional care during two high-risk pregnancies, and will always be grateful for it. The family rooms provided by the Silver Star Society meant that, following a traumatic and emotional labour, my husband could stay with me and my twins for several days. It is a great honour to be invited to be a patron of the Silver Star Maternity Fund and I hope that I can help continue the astonishing work carried out by so many dedicated volunteers.”
Latest news from our Patron Clare:
Silver Star Experiences
By Clare Mackintosh – Silver Star Patron and bestselling author
My oldest Silver Star baby will turn sixteen this autumn. This makes no sense, because five minutes ago he was six, he was six months, he was just seconds old. Five minutes ago, he was sleeping in my arms, and now he is towering over the toaster, slotting in half a packet of crumpets. I’ve heard people say they feel old when their children hit these milestones, but I don’t feel old, I just feel adrift. Confused, as though I’ve been found wandering from a residential unit and need gently steering back to my room. How can it be sixteen years since I lay in my bed at the JR, holding my bump and praying for a miracle?
That miracle is now turning sixteen. Sixteen! It’s the biggest milestone, I think - bigger than becoming a teenager. More exciting than eighteen, because at eighteen the newly acquired freedom comes with a side order of adulthood, with all
its pressures. But sixteen… oh, sweet sixteen! A sixteen-year-old can leave home.
They can get married (albeit with their parents’ permission). They can have sex, drive a moped, join the army, consent to medical procedures. In Wales, where we now live, sixteen marks the age at which they can legally leave education behind. They are, to all intents and purposes, an adult.
‘Obviously we’re not actually going to let you do any of that,’ I tell my son, after he’s told me all the ways in which he could legally mark his birthday.
‘What can I do, then?’ he says.
‘Um…’ I look at the list he’s googled. ‘You can vote in local elections.’
He stares at me. ‘Is that it?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘That’s rubbish. What’s the point of turning sixteen, if you can’t actually do anything?’
‘I guess it’s better than not turning sixteen,’ I say softly, and we share an unspoken moment, thinking of his brother, of how they would be celebrating together, if he had lived.
He pulls me in for a hug. My head rests on his shoulder, and I feel adrift again for a moment. He’s no longer a child, but an adult, his arms strong around mine. But then he releases me, and I see the same smile I’ve known for sixteen years. I see the same dark eyes seeking out mine, just as they did in the Special Care Baby Unit, all those years ago.
Our children change, but they stay the same, too. They are always our babies, no matter how big they get. Always our babies, no matter what birthday they reached.
