Some stories are told not with words, but with a single gesture. For James Whetton, that gesture came from one of the most beloved figures of the 20th century—Princess Diana.

James was just a newborn when his life began with a struggle. Born prematurely, weighing barely 6 pounds, he spent his earliest days in a hospital cot surrounded by wires and machines, each one tracking the fragile rhythms of his body. His family watched over him with worry, praying that his tiny lungs and delicate heart would keep fighting.

Then, on one unforgettable day, Diana, Princess of Wales, walked into the ward.

Diana was known for her ability to dissolve barriers—royal protocol meant little to her when a person was in need. She walked through hospital rooms not with the stiffness of a figurehead, but with the tenderness of a mother, the compassion of someone who saw pain and instinctively wanted to ease it. That day, she noticed James.

“She said to my mum that I had lovely hair,” James recalls, retelling the story that has been passed down to him all his life. Diana asked his name. Then, with gentle eyes, she asked the question that would forever change the memory of that moment: “Can I pick him up?”

Carefully, Diana leaned down into the cot. She was mindful of the wires that monitored his condition, cautious not to disturb the delicate setup that kept him stable. And then, with infinite care, she lifted the tiny baby into her arms.

For James’s mother, it was a moment that went far beyond royal ceremony. “From what my mum said, she truly cared,” James explains. “She was there all day. It wasn’t just for a picture.”

The photograph of Diana holding James was taken not by an official press photographer, but by James’s grandfather, Brian. It captured the Princess cradling the newborn with a warmth that radiated beyond the frame. Brian would later describe her as “lovely” and “normal”—not a royal visitor checking off a duty, but a woman present in the truest sense, acting from the heart.

“She was just there to help others,” James says today. “She wanted to send a little bit of hope to people who were at their lowest. It gave a lot of families comfort when she turned up—a belief that everything was going to be OK. She lifted everyone’s spirits.”

In that hospital ward, surrounded by anxiety and uncertainty, Diana’s presence became more than symbolic. For the parents watching over fragile children, her touch and her words carried a kind of magic: a reassurance that even in the darkest of times, they were not alone.

James was the only baby Diana picked up that day. He calls it the embrace of “the golden arms of Diana.” For him, it is not just a story of being held by a Princess—it is a story of survival, of warmth, of a mysterious kind of strength. “She was so heartwarming,” he reflects. “Maybe that’s what helped me to keep on fighting. She may have passed on a little bit of her love and got me through it—who knows?”

Now, decades later, James is no longer the fragile baby fighting for life. He stands 6 feet tall, a plasterer by trade, strong and steady. But he treasures the story of the angel who once held him, a story that has been told and retold at family gatherings, always with awe.

For James, it is not about fame or the brush with royalty. It is about what Diana represented. She was a figure who could step into the quiet suffering of ordinary people and bring light, even if only for a moment. She was someone who understood that dignity is often restored not by grand gestures, but by the simplest acts of human kindness—holding a baby, listening to a parent, offering presence instead of distance.

The photograph remains a cherished family heirloom, a frozen moment in time when Diana’s compassion became part of James’s story. And though she is gone, her legacy lives on in these countless, often unrecorded encounters, where she chose not to be a Princess above others, but a fellow human beside them.

Today, James looks back with gratitude, knowing he was touched—literally and figuratively—by someone whose compassion transcended her title. “I was the only baby she picked up,” he says softly. “The golden arms of Diana held me.”

Perhaps that is why the memory continues to resonate. For James, and for the countless others Diana touched, her presence was never about duty—it was about love. And sometimes, love is exactly what keeps us alive.