Rebecca Adlington: ‘I don’t know if I could survive the heartbreak of a stillbirth again’

The former Olympian has experienced deep personal sorrow with the loss of two babies, and wants to help others by opening up conversations

Rebecca Adlington is a national treasure. A former Olympic swimmer, who won double gold and double bronze for her country, she captivated audiences this year at the Paris Olympics with her down-to-earth presenting style and tears of emotion when fellow swimmer, Adam Peaty, narrowly missed out on the top prize.
She has also experienced deep personal sorrow with the loss of her two babies, which she has shared with the public in the hope it helps others. Now she is on a mission to encourage us reserved Brits to be more open to difficult conversations.
I’m originally from Mansfield, Nottinghamshire. It’s a small town between Nottingham and Sheffield, and I was very lucky when I was growing up because there was a swimming pool at either end of the town.
My two older sisters were both good swimmers, and going to the pool was a regular family activity. Being the youngest, I didn’t want to be left out – I’d be like, why are they in the big pool and I’m in the small pool? Why do I need armbands and they don’t? I just got on with it.
It was always something I found so much fun, and I was very motivated to be good at it. From age eleven, I’d get up at 4.30am and go off to training. Even though there were competitions most weekends, and I worked hard to do well, I didn’t win tons of events. Growing up in a small town, you’re simply “a swimmer”. Being an Olympian wasn’t the norm. I can honestly say that when I went to the Beijing Olympics in 2008, age 19, and won double gold, that was the first time I thought, “Oh I can do this.”
After Beijing, I looked at what I needed to help me cope with the pressure of the next four years before the Olympics in London (2012), and I set myself up with a sports psychologist. Their aim is to give you support with your performance while also helping you manage expectations. I’d never been in the spotlight before, and now suddenly the press was upon me and there was a target on my back. It was good to have an expert there to keep things in check and help balance my mental wellbeing.
I was in a sport where my body was exposed. I can’t shy away from that. And the elite swimwear was exceptionally tight! My tool was my body and everyone was looking at it. But the press and the trolls weren’t just criticising my body, they also started on my face. I was like, what has my face got to do with my swimming ability? Most of the time I was wearing a cap and goggles and my head was in the water. I didn’t know an Olympic champion also meant you had to be stunning!
I was only 19 at the time and the remarks really upset me. But when I calmed down and thought about it, I started to feel sorry for these people. They weren’t just trolling me, they were doing it to hundreds of others. I started wondering what might be going on in their lives. To spend so much of their time throwing out horrible comments at a stranger, they must be deeply unhappy. I even ended up feeling a sense of responsibility for them, wondering, are they okay, do they need support?
Now I’m a mum, I can understand how hard that period must have been for my parents. My mum and dad had to read all this stuff about their baby girl, it must have been horrendous. If I had to read that about my kids, I’d be devastated. Luckily, I managed to get over the nasty comments fairly quickly, but I think it was harder for mum and dad to move on.
I have a daughter Summer, nine, and a son, Albie, three. I met my husband, Andy Parsons, six years ago. Last year, I was pregnant with our daughter Harper, but sadly, we lost her to a miscarriage at 20 weeks.
Yes, I had Albie in lockdown and then the year after, I got pregnant again. But we found out at the 12 week scan that I’d miscarried. I needed emergency surgery and lost two litres of blood, then, as a result, developed sepsis. It was tough.
Then I got pregnant with Harper. We were extremely nervous and did everything by the book, but at my 20 week scan, the poor lady who was on duty that day, had to tell us that she couldn’t find a heartbeat. I was put through induced labour, which I really hadn’t expected because of my previous experience; I thought it would be surgery again. Actually, it was the first anniversary of Harper’s birth just a few days ago.
Andy wanted to do something specific. It was important to him. So we had an engraved stone plaque specially made, and placed it on the cherry tree in the garden. We lit candles, then went out for food as a family and toasted Harper. I wanted to make the day as upbeat as possible. Of course there were moments when we were upset and crying, but I wanted the occasion to be filled with love, and for us to simply be together. It felt important to appreciate what we do have, rather than what we don’t. I have two beautiful children who I love so much, and I am beyond grateful for that. I didn’t want the overarching emotion of that day to be sadness.
Thinking back to Harper’s birth brings memories of horrendous physical pain for me. It was so traumatic; I can’t even put myself there. The emotional pain was terrible but, because of the induction process, giving birth to her was excruciating. It’s almost like your body is trying to stop you going through the process because, normally, this wouldn’t be happening. I’ve had the experience of two other births, so I know it’s painful, but then you have the wonderful outcome at the end. With a stillbirth, that has been taken away from you.
We genuinely don’t know. I’m 35 now, so that is a factor. I would love more children, I adore being a mum, but I would be so anxious if I got pregnant again. To go through that feels hard. People deal with tough stuff all the time, but I just don’t know if I could survive that heartbreak again.
Yes, but it’s hard to talk about miscarriage and it’s hard to listen to. That’s why I wanted to get involved in Interflora’s launch of their Conversations in Bloom cards which prompt people to have more open conversations about tough stuff so others can support them. Us Brits are terrible at admitting we need help. I joke with my friends that my leg might be hanging off, but I’d still say I was fine.
Words don’t need to be complicated. Like, my husband might say, “I had a moment today”, and I’ll know to be there for him. It’s not about providing the perfect response or all the answers, it’s about the other person believing you care enough to listen.
I loved it! Me, Clare (Balding) and Mark (Foster) naturally get on well. We understand that people are sitting at home, eating their tea and watching sport, and they want it to be enjoyable. Yes, it’s good to have a bit of insider knowledge but 90 per cent of families won’t want the granular detail; they simply want the presenting to be relatable.
I really got into it in Paris. Because of Covid, we couldn’t travel to Tokyo, so as a genuine fan of the sport, I thought I had the best seat in the house in Paris. There were reports of me crying at some events, I just couldn’t help it. The kids were the ones who got to me. When swimmer Adam Peaty narrowly missed out on the gold in the men’s 100m breaststroke, it was seeing his little boy, George that brought the tears on. Then I cried when an American swimmer, who was pregnant, held up a sign saying, “It’s a girl”. Anything to do with kids always gets to me.
It’s not about getting face time, or any of that malarkey. As a BBC swimming pundit, I want to showcase this incredible sport. I’m just happy to bring swimming to life for the public.
I found that mad! I was like, “What! These people are winning Olympic medals, why are we talking about my dress?” I’ve always worn the same sort of style – I love colour – so I was baffled why it suddenly became a thing. It was lovely that people liked my outfits, but none of it was £1,000 high-end designer stuff – one dress was from Boden, so very accessible. I genuinely don’t know why my wardrobe became such a talking point.
These days, I’m not overly conscious about the way I look. The Olympic audience is there for the sport, not my appearance. And while I love having my hair and make-up done, I don’t go crazy. I’m more likely to choose something simple and easy to manage.
Yes, it’s called Swim! We have 27 venues nationwide, teaching babies and children up to age 11. Unfortunately, as a country, our swimming facilities are lacking. Since covid, 250 swimming pools across the country have closed. If you haven’t got a swimming pool, how do you learn to swim?
Drowning rates in the UK have risen in the last 10 years and that deeply upsets me. Swimming is the only sport that is a life skill. It’s such a fundamental asset to have under your belt. If Swim! can get more kids swimming and safer in the water, then fantastic!
The Conversation In Bloom cards are available to buy from the Interflora website with an RRP of just £10 and free delivery.