For Enya Burgess and Scott Stanley, the morning of May 7 began like any other. There was nothing to suggest that within minutes, their lives would be torn apart forever.
Scott woke early, preparing for work as usual. He went downstairs, made a bottle of milk, and headed upstairs to wake their 14-month-old daughter, Lily-Anne, so she could get ready for nursery. It was a routine they had followed countless times before — one filled with sleepy smiles, soft babbling, and the familiar warmth of parenthood.
But this time, something was terribly wrong.
When Scott reached Lily-Anne’s cot, she wasn’t moving. Her body was stiff. Her skin had turned blue.
Panic set in instantly.
The couple frantically called for an ambulance as Enya ran outside their home, screaming for help. A neighbour — an off-duty police officer — rushed in and began CPR. Within moments, police cars and paramedics filled the street. What had begun as an ordinary Tuesday morning became chaos, confusion, and terror.
Despite every effort, Lily-Anne could not be saved.
She was pronounced dead shortly after, having passed away quietly in her sleep.
“It was just a normal Tuesday,” Enya, 29, said later. “And the next day our world fell apart. Just overnight.”
Lily-Anne had been a healthy baby. There were no warning signs. No underlying conditions. No previous illnesses. To her parents, she was simply their “cheeky” little girl — loving, playful, and full of life.
“She had such a big heart,” Scott, 28, said. “She was caring, she liked to share, and she was always smiling.”
After emergency responders confirmed Lily-Anne’s death, she was taken to King’s Mill Hospital for further checks. Enya and Scott followed behind in shock — barely able to comprehend what had just happened.
What awaited them there only deepened their trauma.
The grieving parents say they were left sitting in the A&E waiting room for around half an hour, surrounded by strangers, while trying to process the sudden loss of their child.
“It was mayhem,” Enya recalled. “We were just sat there, wondering what on earth was happening, after losing our daughter.”
Eventually, doctors led them into a side room and began asking questions about Lily-Anne’s health, her routine, her sleep. Initial checks confirmed there were no signs of distress, injury, or struggle.
“There was no obvious reason why she had passed,” Enya said.
From there, the couple say they were moved to another room — a small, dark space near the children’s A&E waiting area, close to the toilets. They could hear the sounds of hospital life continuing all around them: footsteps, voices, children crying.
“It was triggering,” Enya said. “We were in shock, and we could hear everything going on around us.”
In the days that followed, Enya and Scott did the only thing that felt possible: they stayed close to Lily-Anne.
They spent as much time with her as they could while she was in the hospital mortuary, clinging to every remaining moment with their daughter. But they say they were not offered counselling or access to a dedicated bereavement team — and were told that certain support services only applied to children below a specific age.
Lily-Anne, heartbreakingly, was considered too old.
The couple say they were “lucky” to receive compassion from an A&E nurse and a hospital chaplain, who stayed beyond their working hours to support them and accompany them to the mortuary.
“We’ve lost our daughter,” Scott said. “But fortunately, we had two good people there to help us. Without them, we would have had nothing.”
On May 19, Lily-Anne was transferred to Great Ormond Street Hospital in London for a full post-mortem examination. Weeks passed in agonising limbo, as Enya and Scott waited for answers that might explain how a healthy baby could die without warning.
On June 23, the verdict came back.
Lily-Anne’s cause of death was ruled Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood (SUDC).
The diagnosis offered no explanation — only a name for the unimaginable.
SUDC refers to the unexpected death of a child aged between one and 18 that remains unexplained even after a full investigation, including a post-mortem, scene examination, and review of medical history. Around 40 children in the UK die this way each year. Many go to sleep and never wake up.
There is no way to predict it.
No way to prevent it.
No warning signs.
“It’s hard because we don’t have an answer,” Enya said. “There was no reason why she died.”
A funeral for Lily-Anne was held on June 6, filled with flowers, tears, and unbearable silence. Yet even weeks later, her parents say they still haven’t truly processed her death.
In the midst of their grief, Enya and Scott made a decision.
They didn’t want Lily-Anne’s short life — or her death — to be meaningless.
Shaken by their experience at the hospital, they launched a GoFundMe campaign to raise money for improved bereavement services at King’s Mill Hospital. Their goal is to fund a dedicated bereavement suite and ensure all families who lose a child — regardless of age — receive immediate, compassionate support.
“We want to create a lasting legacy for Lily-Anne,” Enya said. “And help other families through the unthinkable.”
Scott agrees.
“Every hospital should have these services,” he said. “When you lose a child, you need help. You need privacy. You need support to process what’s just happened.”
So far, the fundraiser has raised more than £2,000 toward a £10,000 target.
In response, hospital officials expressed condolences and said they are committed to working with the family to improve bereavement services in the future.
For Enya and Scott, nothing will ever fill the space Lily-Anne left behind. Her cot remains. Her toys remain. The silence is deafening.
But they hope that through awareness, change, and compassion, their daughter’s life — and loss — will help protect others from feeling as alone as they did.
“Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed,” Enya said quietly. “Cherish every moment you can.”
And in that message, Lily-Anne’s legacy lives on — not just as a tragedy, but as a reminder of love, fragility, and the urgent need for kindness when families need it most.
