I worked in a hospital around 25 years ago.
Every baby born past 13 weeks had a photo taken that was placed in an envelope and stapled securely to the inside of the mother's main medical notes, just in case they ever changed their minds and asked, perhaps because they'd been scared or the fathers had rejected the idea automatically. The Polaroids were funded by the amount asked for in respect of ultrasound prints.
I did a few shifts in the mortuary and when they were collected by the undertaker (this again, included all preterms, babies had a special section), instead of the practical but respectful transferring of adults, each one was gently wrapped in a blanket/square of blanket and carried by hand as you would carry any other baby and laid in a wicker basket to be taken to the transport vehicle. Even the tiny, tiny babies who could not be swaddled but had to be transported in a different way had a soft cellular blanket to cover and the mortuary staff and undertakers were absolutely gentle and peaceful.
There was special bedding in a cradle for any parents who wished to see their child after they had left the ward/theatre and were awaiting collection and a tiny nightlight on the windowsill for gentle light, along with a rocking chair. It wasn't something that the Mortuary Manager thought was ideal, as it was a very old Victorian building and the usual process was to try to facilitate this in another part of the hospital, but they'd done everything they could with zero budget.
One of the things that they were incredibly grateful for were the donations of tiny handknitted hats, bootees and blankets from an army of older ladies who never stopped knitting. Many had lost their own babies decades before and the love that went into every stitch and was carefully, gently placed upon those tiny hands, feet and bodies was palpable.
DP's Auntie was one of those women in her hometown who had never said she'd had a stillbirth. Whilst the official line was that the knitted items were all donated for preemies and for sale in the Friends shop, just as many went to the preemies who would never come home as did those in SCBU and NICU.
Because of where I'd worked, she asked me (by then in her 70s) what actually happened afterwards and said it was a comfort to her to know that even the tiniest were given love, respect and, for her, a prayer said for them in the funerals if the parents didn't make arrangements themselves.