Our Story
“Jump in the Lake”
In my old life, I worked in Comms for Taylors of Harrogate. It took me all over the world and I was lucky to spend time with some incredible people. On one such trip, we gathered a bunch of awe-inspiring female content creators and headed to rural Rwanda to visit some of the women’s empowerment projects we’d been involved in. It was intense - a lot of time was spent squished together in the back of 4x4s as we bounced (quite literally) from project to project. At the end of each day, hearts happy, we headed down to a jetty that stretched out into Lake Kivu, a huge freshwater lake surrounded by mountains. I remember thinking in that moment that really, life couldn’t get much more idyllic. I watched as my trip buddies jumped into the water - but as much as I wanted to, something stopped me from jumping. I felt a prickle of fear - although I’m not sure why; I had swum in that very lake a couple of years before and it was one of my happiest memories. But this time I was rooted to the safety of the jetty, unable to move.
That night, I sent a picture of myself at the end of the jetty to Emma, one of my closest friends. Emma is one of my soul sisters - brilliant in every way. She is also living with Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer so, understandably, has some pretty strong opinions on making the most of every moment. ‘Sam - just jump in the lake’ was her reply.
I didn’t jump in the lake - and it’s one of my biggest regrets. I gave in to this weird fear that there might be something in there that could pull me under, that I could drown.
Fast forward a couple of years. My husband and I were still grieving the loss of our much loved, much wanted baby, Willow, just 10 weeks into our pregnancy, when I became pregnant again. Rather than it being a time of joy and celebration, I was crippled with anxiety over what was and what might be. I could barely breathe some days and avoided going to the toilet in case my worst fear became reality. I existed from scan to scan - barely letting the dust settle on one before booking the next, living in a cycle of fear - relief - fear.
The private scan clinics I visited were a mixed bag; some with reception areas packed with heartbeat teddy bears, one with a red plastic sofa that squeaked when you moved. In another, a group of women gathered in the reception area to take plaster casts of their newborn babies’ feet. I remember feeling complete dread as we waited to be called to the scan room; the thought of hearing the most devastating news and then having to walk back past them made my heart race. There had to be a better way.
Our beautiful baby boy, Alby was born in April 2022. While on maternity leave, I couldn’t shake that feeling - that there had to be a better way. The idea grew along with my sense of purpose - I tried to shrug it off a few times, but the more people I spoke to, the more I realised that my experience wasn’t unique. I began to imagine a clinic that nurtured and supported families at every stage of their pregnancy journey; practical elements such as ultrasound scans and NIPT testing sitting alongside therapeutic services such as bereavement counselling, life coaching and mentoring, plus helpful, down-to-earth workshops on positive birthing, self-advocacy, parenting and paediatric first aid.
Cocoon felt like the perfect name. While expectant mothers cocoon their baby, we exist to cocoon you and your family every step of the way. Let’s jump in the lake.