Pregnancy and Infant Loss: Remembering the babies we still love

When I first set out to write this blog, I didn’t really expect what ended up happening. I unfortunately already had several people in mind that I knew had experienced this devastating type of loss, so I reached out. I lost a baby in pregnancy myself, and I have some fond memories of that baby that I like to share when it makes sense to do so. I know this is such a sensitive subject, so I approached it as gently as possible and only to people I am friends with, thinking they too would want to share a little piece of their memories, to give their angel babies a bigger space in the world. However, what I found was that some people felt the same as I did, and others had no desire to share this part of themselves. I learned that some moms have a perfect space in their heart for these babies and they want them to continue living there, to belong to them alone. I also ended up opening this question to more people and I got responses from women in my circle whose losses I didn’t even know about, but who wanted to share about their experiences with me. This is something I didn’t expect.

It’s been a heartbreaking and beautiful experience to take a deep dive into the memories of lost babies, both my own and those of women around me. I feel privileged to have heard these stories and I will carry a little piece of their love with me forever. 

The following quotes are from the moms I spoke to, who I asked to share something they remember specifically about the baby or babies they lost. I will include a {***} for the moms I spoke to who did not want to share, as a reminder that there are so many out there with untold stories. As you read, you too will get the privilege of opening your heart to these women and their babies who were here physically for such a short time but will live on forever in their parents’ hearts.

I urge you to take a few moments for each {***} to hold space for all the untold stories as well. 

(Some stories have been edited for length and personal details. These stories may be triggering for some people.)

“After being told for 15 years I would never have children, I was so excited to get that positive test. I was imagining who he/she was. But in less than a week I was miscarrying. On my angel baby’s due date though there was this absolutely beautiful rainbow on my way to work.”

{***}

 

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“It was my first pregnancy and I never really felt like that baby was inside me, but I feel like I met its spirit floating around me a couple times. It always seemed like a sparkly light blue energy that was really calm and gentle. I had one dream about holding them at birth that felt so real and I miscarried a couple weeks later. I think it was a boy. I still feel like I really knew him.”

{***}

 

“You were my first, and I will always wonder who you were supposed to be.”

{***}

 

“My first pregnancy and subsequent loss was one of the most joyous and devastating times of my life. My sweet angel baby showed me how big love can be and that the bond between a mother and her child is forever no matter how long they have together. I’m forever grateful for the time that I was pregnant with that little angel. We did not get to name our baby nor find out the gender, but we believe in our hearts that she was a girl and we call her Baby Coco.”

“Their name was Justice Parker and I’ll remember two things. One, how tiny he/she/they were when I lost them. Two, I picked the name because it was unisex and also [for multiple family connections]. I wanted them to know they were loved and a part of our family when they watch us from the other side so I got a Christmas ornament with their name on it that my kids hang up at Christmas and we all say what we think they would be like every year when we decorate the tree. It’s bittersweet.”   

{***}

 

“I have had three miscarriages including my first pregnancy.  The first time I didn’t know how common it was, so it was such an incredible and terrible surprise, more so because it was late at 13 weeks.  It felt like there was something wrong with me and like I couldn’t talk about it- because we don’t as a culture.  Fortunately, I knew some moms who did talk to me about it and it helped.

The next two, which happened close together fourteen years later, were less of a surprise.  I knew that at 44 miscarriage was likely.  The fertility doctor said I had a 2.5% chance of having a baby with help and less without.  But despite knowing that, it was still super hard– Physically, emotionally, and hormonally.  The thing with both of them was each miscarriage is the death of a dream. And when things don’t work out it is scary to try again. It is kind of like after you first get your heart broken, it is so hard to put yourself out there again. All that said I am so glad I did.”

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You may have heard that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, but how often do we really spend time thinking of those “1’s”?

Like our last story-teller said, each one of those losses was a person whose loved ones had dreams for them. And whether you have heard their stories or not, there are no doubt people in your life who have a special space for those dreams within them.

Each {***} represents and reminds all us to sit in silence and remembrance with all of you who have not reached out to share your memories. Your babies will be held in our hearts today as well.

How do we close a blog that is so personal and painful? Any closing statement feels like we are closing a door on something in the past that is still very much alive. Or like we may be excluding those who could experience loss in the future. Unfortunately, we know these experiences will continue and that this “story” never really comes to a close. 

There’s no measure of reassurance that we can offer to change the horrible truth to this statement. What we can do is walk by your side as you navigate your loss. As postpartum doulas, we are professionally trained to understand your body’s changes after loss. We are trained to come to you with no bias, to sit and listen to your story. We know that often what is needed is to simply remain silent… holding your hand… listening… being present and attuned… to gently hold space for you and your sweet angel baby as we care for you. 

So we will close with this, for all future losses and currently grieving parents–

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