Our Babies Story

My name is Carmen and I am a nurse, a yoga instructor, a farmer, and a writer. I am also the mother of three beautiful children. However, in my journey to have a family, I, like many other women, experienced pregnancy loss several times and in different ways.

For me personally, there was loss before I had children and there was also loss after having children.

Our first pregnancy loss was in 2015 and was a missed miscarriage; the baby had stopped developing at 9 weeks but we didn’t find out we had lost the baby until 12 weeks. Our second loss was an early loss, when I was 10 weeks pregnant. My third pregnancy, we lost our so-hoped-for daughter named Kaia, at 24 weeks via termination for medical reasons. After that we had what is described as a chemical pregnancy, a very early pregnancy that ends in miscarriage.

With all of these pregnancy losses, I experienced more than just the physical loss of having a baby. It was the loss of a happy pregnant experience and birth story. It was the loss of having the family I envisioned and the expectations of what my future might look like. It was the despair of feeling like a mother but not having a living child. I knew there was nothing I could have done differently to save my babies, but it didn’t stop me from searching for reasons. It was isolating and I felt alone in my grief.

But after four pregnancies, four emotional journeys filled with excitement and then grief, I gave birth to our beautiful boy Case in 2017. Our lovely daughter Maelie followed close behind in 2019.

After having our two children, we then lost an unplannedpregnancy around 8 weeks. Even though I had two children, I did not feel like our family was complete and I wanted another child. My eighth pregnancy was our boy Jude, who we lost in August 2020 when I was 21 weeks pregnant, this time related to another terminal prognosis called Potters Sequence. Finally, our daughter Ayda came into our lives in July 2021, and as serendipity would have it, her due date was the same day that we delivered our son Jude the year before. It has amazed me many times how my worst day one year could be my best day the very next year.

This past January 2023 we lost another surprise baby. Again I couldn’t let it go and we are currently pregnant after loss with our Final Rainbow Baby due in February 2023.

I have been pregnant eleven times and have lost seven pregnancies; all in very different ways and at different times in my life. Building our family has not been easy, but it did build us physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Over the years, I was asked many times, “Why do you keep trying? Haven’t you lost enough? Aren’t you scared it will happen again?” The answer to that was always: absolutely. Absolutely I was scared and absolutely I had lost, but I had also gained in so many aspects, and it was hope that kept me going.

A wise obstetrician once told me that some families are complete at one child and others are complete at five. This made me realize that I was allowed to want what I wanted. I asked another wise high-risk OB, “How do you keep doing this job when you see such heartbreak every day?” She said, “It is because I see families like you, ones who come back to show off their family of three one day.”

Pregnancy loss is such a shock. One minute you’re pregnant and the next you’re not, even after you’re past the “safe zone” so to speak. There is no safe zone in pregnancy. And when you head home empty handed and un-pregnant, nothing can prepare you for that kind of trauma. Some days I found myself rolling on the grass like an animal and other days I found myself unable to get off the kitchen floor, convulsing in tears.

And I was reminded of my loss everywhere. When I sawpregnant women with their round bellies, full of hope and excitement. When I saw mothers with their newborn infants instrollers. When a due date came and went with no baby. When Mother’s Day came and no one understood that I was a mother, even with no living baby. The pain was all around me and could hit at any time.

After journaling about the loss of my son Jude, which was something I had done after each pregnancy to release my emotions and to cope, I realized I had a collection of baby books for my dead babies under my bed. I thought to myself, “What is the purpose of all this?” I got the idea to put the journals all together and I collected them into one document. What transpired from there was me writing a book called A Diary to My Babies: Journeying Through Pregnancy Loss, which is going to be published and released in February 2023. One of the beautiful gifts my babies gave me, something I otherwise wouldn’t have dreamed of doing, is becoming a published author. Though I would much rather have my babies, of course, this was one of the ways I could share and honour their stories and their lives.

In October of 2020, to keep my head out of the darkness and in honour of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, I ran a Rainbow Hat Campaign, where I sold hats that I had knit with the hope of spreading awareness and shedding light on theimportant and isolating topic of pregnancy and infant loss. Seeing the supportive community that grew from this, and seeing how people shared their stories, wore their hats, and bought hats for people who had lost, was truly amazing. Together we raised $2,588 for the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Network, which helps to support individuals and families experiencing pregnancy loss.

The following October, in keeping with tradition, I ran a Sheety Baby Wrap campaign. I used sheets and turned them into beautiful baby wraps, with all proceeds going to the Bereaved Families of Southwestern Ontario. We raised $1500 and I could feel the support from the community and my own comfort and pride that was wrapped up in this cause.

I have gained from my pregnancy losses. I have gained a passion for supporting other families who are experiencing the grief of pregnancy loss, and I have gained a passion for advocacy that I will continue to develop.

I do believe that there is a movement happening. I feel that pregnancy loss is being displayed more and more on TV shows, ones like This Is Us, The Good Doctor, and Greys Anatomy.There is even a new book out with the succinct title I Had a Miscarriage, by Jessica Zucker. By choosing to talk openly about the stories of our lost babies, I believe one day our children can do the same, with no shame or guilt around it.

Truly, I do not believe everything happens for a reason. People that have experienced pregnancy loss did nothing to deserve it, even though they likely felt like they did something wrong, just as I did. I do believe that for those of us that have experienced pregnancy loss, we feel deeper and see more clearly the world and the beauty in it. We see life and cherish it in a different way somehow. We are more mindful of the little pleasures that come our way, though some days all we can think about is how our families might have looked a little different.We were graced with the ability to physically hold angels with us, even if it was just for a short time. Not many people can say that.

It is said that people who have had miscarriages are the ones granted a spiritual awakening. I trust this and I am grateful for what I have learned. I see signs of my babies all around me and I lean into the symbolism. I am comforted by these messages and feel that they might be reminders that there is something more, some bigger force at play, that these little signsare messages from my babies.

For example, on the first anniversary of our daughter Kaia’s death we woke up to a bird flying in our house.  On the first anniversary of our son Jude’s death the fire alarm would not stop going off. And on the day of our daughter Ayda’s birth, we saw a pink heart balloon floating in the sky. Every year I am in awe in some way and take comfort and reassurance in the little coincidences my angel babies bring me. I like to call them angel droppings.

I’ve learned that we are allowed to have good days in grief. We are not alone and our babies are always with us, guiding us through our life. Several times during our experience we were told we were the “lucky ones,” because I could get pregnant, because we could have a baby. But I hated that term… “lucky,”because we had the smallest odds of a miscarriage happening, yet it always seemed to happen to us. We never felt like the lucky ones. But now I find myself saying we are “so lucky” to get to live in the light that our angels gave to our lives, and to spread it by remembering them and advocating for them.

Sadly, there is no real conclusion to pregnancy loss, as grief never goes away. It becomes part of our journey, our story that we carry with us through life. Two truths can exist at the same time. We can still be sideswiped by grief when we don’t expect it, yet grateful and even more in awe of the beauty that is right here right now in front of us.

The poet Rumi once said, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”  So when you see a mother glowing, just know that she may once have been broken, but her capacity to heal was there. Her loss may never go away but the suffering can soften. The tears can be healing. Perhaps with the help of others who understand her loss, or with her ability to speak openly about her experiences and her lost babies, or with her advocacy for others experiencing pregnancy loss, her loss can lighten. Perhaps then the wound can let the light in.