On 29 January 2025 our first baby would have been due. Instead, I was 22 weeks pregnant with their rainbow brother.

I’ve blinked and I’m now 35 weeks pregnant.

Can we talk about the contradiction of grieving a loss whilst pregnant and the absolute brain-f**k it presents?

I already know so much about our rainbow baby. Their name. Their gender. Features of their tiny face. The fact they are a wriggler and love car journeys.

I know we are unbelievably blessed to be in this position and I wouldn’t change it for the world -but can we talk about the contradiction of grieving a loss whilst pregnant and the absolute brain-f**k it presents?

Let me take you back a bit.

I was completely overwhelmed to find I was pregnant in May 2024. Neither my partner or I wanted to call what we were doing ‘trying to conceive’ as we didn’t want to put pressure on ourselves or create disappointment – so it was incredible to see those two blue lines appear.

I could visualise my life as a mother instantly. I’d always known I wanted to be a mother and it was as if my time had come. Everything had fallen into place – or so I thought.

I had the best few weeks, having a wonderful summer. I went to the British Grand Prix and was a bridesmaid at my best friend’s wedding – thinking they were all memories I’d be able to share with our child.

The day before my 12 week dating scan, I started spotting. I’d had a private scan at seven weeks and they’d identified a SCH. After a call to 111, we were told to attend the scan as normal and I convinced myself everything was okay.

Everything was anything but okay as it would turn out. The sonographer found that our baby had died not long after my seven week scan. It was as though the bottom had fallen out of my world. I couldn’t fathom how I had not realised my baby had died. All my precious memories were now tainted by knowing I wasn’t carrying a healthy, growing baby after all. I was living a lie in which I’d failed our baby.

I hate the term ‘missed miscarriage’ because there was no missing what came next. My local Early Pregnancy Clinic did everything they could to support me, but the spontaneous miscarriage that followed not long after was the most traumatic experience of my life. There’s little point beating around the bush! I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, knowing the outcome with nothing I could do to stop it.

I know that’s ridiculous now – having left a literal trail of blood in my wake!

A week later, after going back to work ‘for some normality’, I suffered a significant bleed caused by retained product. I never knew it was possible to be admitted to A&E as quickly as I was without arriving in an ambulance! I worried the other people awaiting triage might be annoyed with me for jumping the queue! I know that’s ridiculous now – having left a literal trail of blood in my wake! I was fortunate that no issues were found and I was able to continue – and complete – expectant management.

After going from one trauma to another, my brain eventually shut down to the emotion of it all. I couldn’t handle the mass of thoughts, feelings, and reactions – so I didn’t. I became a stoic monolith, deciding I was fine and that was that.

The feeling I couldn’t shake however was that of failure. I had failed to bring that child safely into the world. I felt like I had failed in the primary purpose of being a woman. I had set myself an unspoken goal of having a baby by 30. I was 29 years and 21 days when I lost our baby and I felt like time was ticking away. I couldn’t fail again.

I was fortunate that my period returned promptly, 5 weeks post M-day, and I told my partner I was ready to try again. He tried to talk about whether that was actually true, but I was adamant. He’d coped with the loss by putting all his attention on protecting me, and he didn’t want to cause me any more stress (he’s my hero and forever will be).

We got pregnant again straight away.

There have been a few bumps in the road – a couple of EPC referrals, a fetal medicine consultation – but we’ve hit 35 weeks and baby boy is doing brilliantly.

Physically I’m doing really well, but mentally this second pregnancy has been a challenge.

In some respect, I only started to grieve our angel baby properly in the second half of this rainbow pregnancy.

Everyone around us – family, friends, colleagues, midwives, sonographers, consultants – have treated us so sensitively and offered us buckets of support and care, yet my mind has been going overtime, especially as we approached angel baby’s due date and now as we reach rainbow baby’s due date. In some respect, I only started to grieve our angel baby properly in the second half of this rainbow pregnancy.

I’ve felt grateful for being blessed with a new pregnancy so soon, but guilt that others haven’t been afforded this gift, too.

I’ve felt confusion and doubt as to why our pregnancy experience has been shaped as it has.

I’ve felt joy at seeing our healthy baby on the ultrasound, but anger that we had to experience heartbreak first.

I’ve felt anxiety from knowing anything could go wrong at any time, and annoyance that some parents never have to experience the pain and tainted perspectives caused by baby loss.

I’ve felt panic that our bumps in the road were real issues, but calm that we’ve already overcome the worse once before.

I’ve felt grief that I didn’t have the wonderful experiences I’m having in this pregnancy with my first baby, and shame that not many people even know our first baby existed.

I’ve felt failure I couldn’t carry our first baby, and pride that I’m carrying our second baby.

Ugly feelings, weird feeling, brain-f**k feelings! Grief! If truth be told, I know the extent of my emotional response this time is due to not fully processing what happened last time. And yet, I have felt like my second pregnancy is giving me a chance to grieve and find some peace as I reflect on my first pregnancy.

As I write this, I’m not sure what purpose I want my words to serve. Perhaps to confirm to someone also experiencing the brain-f**k of grief in pregnancy that they are not alone? Perhaps to confess my ugly feelings out loud? Perhaps to admit in public that I am only human and, as hard as I tried to avoid my feelings, succumbing to the brain-f**k has almost been healing?

My life has been marred by hospitals, operations and medication. I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis aged 14, and had emergency colorectal surgery to remove my large bowel when I was 18. I had been so poorly for several years prior to the surgery that it’s fair to say it saved my life. I then lived with a stoma bag for two years before having a reversal, where it was replaced by an internal pouch.

If only I knew what lay ahead, I would have been kinder to myself.

Given my complex medical history, it wasn’t a surprise when we struggled to get pregnant in the early days. We began a process with the NHS and started ovulation stimulation. I found those early stages hard emotionally as I had an expectation that, once I started some sort of medical process, I would be ok. If only I knew what lay ahead, I would have been kinder to myself.

Getting more and more frustrated with how slow the NHS process was, we moved to private fertility care in September 2018. We got cracking with two rounds of ovulation simulation and one round of IUI, but neither worked. On paper, I appeared to be the “perfect” candidate for IVF as I was still young, so we moved onto that. I had my first egg collection in January 2019, and we ended up with three “Day 5 blastocysts”. They chose the best quality embryo, and I had a “fresh” transfer five days after my first egg collection.

I clearly remember the day I went for a blood test to get the pregnancy result, and the nurse calling us into the room to give us the positive news. However, it was not to be, as it resulted in a chemical pregnancy. We were devastated. I continued to push away close friends, who felt like they were reproducing at a rate of knots around me, with many now on to baby number two.

We had two further embryos from the first egg collection, so we decided to go ahead with a frozen cycle. I was feeling positive. However, both embryos failed to thaw. It felt cruel and left me very angry. We very quickly went back in for another egg collection as I remained desperate to “get it done”. This one resulted in two embryos. We slightly tweaked the protocol a little, but both embryos failed to take.

We were going to be blessed with identical twins. However, at eight weeks, the doctor couldn’t find either heartbeat. I felt empty.

We decided to go again, this time adding in additional immune therapy and planning to do PGS (pre-genetic screening). Off I went for my third egg collection, now on the highest dose of follicle-stimulating hormone I was allowed. The first egg collection resulted in only one embryo, which we decided not to genetically test as the cost was prohibitive. That resulted in another failed transfer. From the next egg collection – our fourth – we ended up with three good embryos, which were all sent off for PGS. The results came back showing we had only one normal embryo, but when we had the frozen transfer in January 2020 it worked. We were finally pregnant, and not just a chemical pregnancy. We were over the moon. Finally, after all this time, our hard work had paid off. We had an early six-week scan and there were two little embryos! We were going to be blessed with identical twins. However, at eight weeks, the doctor couldn’t find either heartbeat. I felt empty.

By now it was the start of March 2020 and Covid hit. Lockdown came at a good time for us, which I know is an unpopular thing to say, but to have time to connect as a couple without outside noise for a few months was exactly what we needed. At the same time, I reached out to a friend who recommended acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT). I found a brilliant woman and we started our sessions over FaceTime. She was amazing and really allowed me to be sad and angry, and validated all my feelings. She guided me through a grieving process without me really know I was doing it. She gave me tools to understand my feelings, accept them and try to find a way of moving through. I learnt more about how to deal with adversity in my sessions with her than ever before and I’m very grateful for that.

My husband and I had several months to grieve, and we talked about how to move forward with trying to have a family. We researched adoption and lined up some open evenings. At the same time, I looked at other IVF clinics, and we decided to have an initial consultation with one doctor. She blew us away. The detail she provided and the screening she wanted for us was extensive. She really listened to the history, and requested all my test and lab results so she could tailor a treatment plan to us. We came away thinking that if it didn’t work with her then it wouldn’t work with any doctor!

We discussed a very thorough plan which would involve batch egg collections and sending all resulting embryos off for PGS, while ensuring my womb was the best environment it could be. The clinic identified that I had a hydrosalpinx on the right tube and in January 2021 I had a small procedure where that tube was sealed off. Meanwhile, we had received great news that my egg collections had resulted in four genetically normal embryos. It was the best news ever.

Taking all the medication under the sun, we transferred the embryo on 18th May, 2021. The odds appeared to be in our favour, having done everything possible. We did the pregnancy test at home. I crept behind my husband as he tentatively walked down the hallway and peeked on the bathroom shelf where I’d put the test, and a faint line had appeared. We were pregnant! And this time it was for real. We cried a lot.

We were so lucky. But this story is full of “howevers”.

The pregnancy that followed was uneventful. I had additional growth scans due to my previous bowel surgery but nothing too abnormal. I was booked in for a C-section and on 25th January, 2022, Billy came into our lives. The miracle had arrived. Every baby is precious, but Billy seems to have a capital “P”.

We enjoy Billy so much; he remains the love of our lives. Given we had three more genetically normal embryos, we decided to go for another transfer in September 2023. Using the same protocol as Billy, it worked again. We were so lucky. But this story is full of “howevers”. I suffered a miscarriage at 10 weeks, following a subchorionic haematoma.

The loss was brutal and tough on my body. My husband and I took a few months to recover and sought some couples counselling. The woman we saw was really helpful. It allowed us to discuss how we were coping as individuals, as well as a couple, and accepting those differences between us. She also helped us make the decision on whether to go again, which we did in May 2024.

The transfer worked again, and everything was going really well with the pregnancy. Every scan was normal, and I was being well looked after by the consultants and the midwife team. However, with no warning signs, there was no heartbeat at my 20-week scan. We couldn’t believe it. Surely not again.

As the miscarriage was so late this time, I was caught by specialist bereavement midwifery care and the consultants to manage the aftercare. Both were amazing. I had several tests to work out what had happened, and it wasn’t super clear, but we’ve deduced that there was a potential blood flow issue causing the placenta to not develop correctly. It’s been a very difficult few months and I have had to dig deeper than I’d ever hoped I would have to go. Billy doesn’t realise the job he has done to help us through. He’s an absolute miracle and I’m grateful every single day for him.

I am learning to accept what has happened to us over the past few years. I grieve for all the losses, with equal weight.

We have sought more external help and support. I even went on a solo wellness retreat for three days around the time of the due date. I am learning to accept what has happened to us over the past few years. I grieve for all the losses, with equal weight. I am coming to terms with our family as it is now. I won’t be doing any more IVF as it’s too much for me and for us. The counterbalance to grief can be a beautiful thing. It can bring a sense of peace and acceptance. That’s how I’m choosing to manage it, and I am living my life again.

In May of 2023 we conceived first time, not expecting anything and I discovered I was pregnant the day before our flight to our honeymoon which just couldn’t have been more textbook perfect.

I wanted to show him the positive so we went to some pharmacies….but none of them came back positive.

I told my husband on our first full day while we were on the beach but the test had run out of battery. I wanted to show him the positive so we went to some pharmacies over the next few days but none of them came back positive. A few nights later I woke up in the night in excruciating pain with lots of blood and that was that. G&T on the beach was consumed and we enjoyed the rest of our holiday while trying to process what happened.

Some time passed and it became clear we really wanted this and within 4 months, another positive.

at 9 weeks I was told the baby hadn’t grown since about 7.5 weeks

This time I was cautious of what could happen but I looked after myself, continued training at the gym and getting excited. I booked in an early scan as there was no way I could wait until 12 weeks so at 9 weeks I was told the baby hadn’t grown since about 7.5 weeks. This was as crushing as you’d expect except what followed felt almost worse.

3 weeks after finding out, and 5 since baby stopped growing, I was able to take meds at home.

My body wasn’t letting go and the NHS wanted a scan, then another scan to confirm, and then to wait before actioning anything in case it happened naturally. So, about 3 weeks after finding out, and 5 since baby stopped growing, I was able to take meds at home. These worked, which after hearing stories from others I was grateful for, but the impact this whole experience caused was colossal.

I couldn’t have done it without the TWGGEF Community

These losses plus a following year of unexplained infertility and lots of non-answers from tests, left bitter and confused tastes in our mouths but equally, opened our eyes to this new world, navigating these feelings, the healthcare system and resonating with all the unfortunate members of this girl gang.

I couldn’t have done it without you Bex & Laura and the TWGGEF Community! And will continue to need you no doubt… Thank you for everything.

Although completely shocked, we were overwhelmed with excitement. We were about to become a family of 6!

My story started on the 6th September 2024 when we found out we were pregnant. This was my third pregnancy, and we were excited to find out our family would be growing by one more.

I’d previously had two high risk pregnancy, as I had multiple blood clots in my leg and lungs in my first pregnancy, after our booking appointment we were scheduled to meet a consultant before our 12-week scan. It was at that appointment that we discovered we were expecting twins. Although completely shocked we were overwhelmed with excitement. We were about to become a family of 6!

At our 12-week scan our sonographer confirmed that our babies were growing perfectly. The sonographer said she could see a fibroid, which alarmed me as I had no previous knowledge of having any. During the scan I was in a bit of pain, which the sonographer picked up on. The discomfort was in my abdomen and in my lower back on my left. The sonographer thought it might be my kidneys so scanned that area, but everything looked ok. We left the hospital after taking some bloods for screening and I was still feeling some pain, so I had a nap for a few hours. When I woke up, I went to the toilet and was really alarmed to see I was lightly bleeding. I automatically thought the worst, but monitored the bleed for the rest of the evening and it appeared to reduce to spotting.

The next morning my stomach was really sore, and I was still bleeding on and off, so I called the midwives, and I was advised to go to A & E. Imagine my complete shock when, whilst being checked in, I was turned away because I was not yet 16 weeks. I explained that the midwife told me I should go to A & E, but I was told I was given the wrong information. I was directed to complete a referral online for the EPAU. Even though the form said I’d be contacted within 24 hours, I waited in the hospital, hopeful I’d be called in. I wasn’t. After a few hours, I took myself directly to the department, desperate to be seen. I explained that I had a scan the day before and had experienced a bleed, but I was turned away and told to return in the morning.

I felt like a number, not a human being.

All I could do was silently cry. I was stunned and confused. Did my twins not matter to them? I returned home and was called by the EPAU in response to the referral I had completed online. I was told that I could no longer come in the next morning as they would not scan me for another week. They said that if the pain and bleeding continued, I should return to A & E. There was no compassion, no concern, and no reassurance. We were fortunate enough to be blessed with a private scan that evening, which helped to settle my concerns, but I couldn’t get over being turned away. I felt like a number, not a human being.

The reassurance from the private scan, made us relax a little and we decided to share the news with our children. It took them a while to process that we were expecting twins, but they were so excited. It was such a special moment.

Despite having a rough first three months, battling with extreme nausea and sickness, I exhaled when I reached the second trimester. All the symptoms began to subside and I was enjoying experiencing the twins move from quite early on. I thought we were safe. I was still in pain, which seemed to increase as time went on. I thought that the pain was down to the weight of the pregnancy. Although, I had previously been pregnant, everything bout this pregnancy was so different. I had never carried twins before.

Due to previously going into labour before 37 weeks I was told my cervix would be measured at around 16 weeks. At the internal scan we were reassured that my cervix was fine, and the sonographer didn’t believe that it would need to be checked again. But we had an appointment the following week we were told by our specialist twin consultant that my cervix was borderline short, and I was prescribed Cyclogest.

As our babies grew, and their movements became more frequent the pain began to get more intense and became more frequent. I decide to buy a pregnancy belt to help relieve some of the pressure, but it didn’t seem to help at all. It was now December; we were counting down to our final Christmas as a family of four. We also had our 20-week scan booked for Christmas Eve. We were so excited with the prospect of telling our children the gender of our new babies as a special Christmas gift.

A week after seeing the consultant, I found myself admitted to the labour ward with extreme pain. I couldn’t walk, and the pain took my breath away. The twins were scanned, and their heartbeats were checked. They were perfect. Blood tests were done and a vaginal check and swab of my cervix. The doctor told me the pain was muscular. I had been given codeine, but the pain had not subsided at all. I was discharged and let the hospital still in so much pain. I was told to manage the pain with codeine, but I decided to keep my feet up as that was the only relieve that I had.

Less than 5 days later, on the 16^th December 2024 I went into spontaneous labour at home. Our first son came out abruptly whilst I was on the toilet. He came out breathing and moving. I called an ambulance who did the best they could to resuscitate him, but he died moments later. I was taken to the hospital, and I begged the doctors to save our other baby. I began to haemorrhage, and I had 2 units of blood transfused. My cervix was checked and the doctor let me know that I was miscarrying. I began to contract and 3 hours after delivering our first son at home, I delivered our second son. He arrived in his sac.

Even though this loss has been the most painful and traumatic experience of my life, I have decided that our sons’ lives, and story cannot be in vain.

I lost 2 beautiful baby boys at 19 weeks and 3 days. I was and still am completely heartbroken. We named our sons Micaiah and Isaiah. I realised that even though I had been pregnant before there was still so much I did not know about pregnancy. Although, I knew about first trimester loss and still birth and had no knowledge of second trimester loss. I also did now know that 24 weeks was when a life is legally considered viable. Even though this loss has been the most painful and traumatic experiences of my life, I have decided that our sons’ lives, and story cannot be in vain. I am going to do my best to share and bring awareness to second trimester loss and twin loss. My hope is that even if one woman’s pregnancy outcome will be changed, their short lives will potentially save another.

There are so many things that we are not made aware of and it’s important that we ask questions and ask for clarity where our care is concerned. My experience during this pregnancy has left me feeling that I have little hope and trust in the NHS with my maternal care. There have been many instances during each of my pregnancies where I have felt ignored, dismissed and not heard by the professionals who were responsible for my health and the care of my babies. It is really heartbreaking to know that a lot of these losses are preventable.

I was foolishly confident that I was out of the miscarriage ‘danger zone’.

I was pleasantly surprised, as an anxious person, at the positive test after 3 months of trying. I was nauseous and dizzy in my first trimester, which looking back, I feel was probably an early sign that things weren’t going well. We had our first ultrasound at 12 weeks. I was again pleasantly surprised when we saw a heartbeat and we were told that the baby was growing well. We had told our families prior to the ultrasound, but afterwards we finally told my friends and work, foolishly confident that I was out of the miscarriage “danger zone.”

My obstetrician wanted me to wait until 13 weeks to have the NIPT done so one week later, when I was officially in my 2nd trimester, I got the results as I was falling asleep. At first, I could not believe what I was seeing. I ran to scholarly articles about the accuracy of the NIPT for down syndrome. When evidence wasn’t enough, I turned to reddit to see if I could find stories of false positives. Everything I read indicated that false positives were rare, but I thought, “I will do whatever it takes to support my son.” I told my husband when he got into bed and he knew immediately he wanted to terminate. I was surprised and conflicted at how quickly and confidently he had made that decision. I stayed up the rest of the night researching outcomes. And crying. I wanted this child deeply, but I was so scared for what his future would look like, and for what it meant for my marriage.

This was not just a matter of doing everything I could for my child.

The following day I called a mentor who was also a mother. We talked about what it would mean to have a child with a significant disability. This conversation forced me to think about support, finances, resentment, and what would happen if either of us died, especially me. We have no family nearby and financially being a stay-at-home mum would never be an option. This was not just a matter of doing everything I could for my child. That night my husband and I talked further and we decided that if the diagnosis was confirmed that we would most likely terminate. However, the following night I was looking at images from his ultrasound and saw something that I hadn’t noticed before. I sent the image to my OB for her input, but I knew with absolute certainty that it was a cystic hygroma, that our son had trisomy 21, and that it would most likely be a severe form.

Because I was 14 weeks when we received the NIPT results I had to wait two tortuous weeks for the amniocentesis. The appointment started with genetic counselling followed by an anatomy ultrasound. As the tech completed the imaging, I saw the large cystic hygroma swallowing his neck. My husband later told me that he could feel how wrong things were by the way the tech and I were acting even though she barely spoke. The doctor then came into the room, sat down, and said, “I don’t like what I’m seeing. I can tell your child has down syndrome just from the ultrasound. You know the children that you see with down syndrome walking around? That won’t be your child.”

“I woke up in recovery, and I could feel that his weight was gone.”

The ultrasound had shown a large cystic hygroma, echogenic bowel, echogenic right kidney, and pyelectasis in the echogenic left kidney. They were unable to get a good image of the heart and lungs. We did not pursue amniocentesis and chose instead to do genetic testing after the termination. My D&E was scheduled for 1 week after the ultrasound on October 16, 2024. When I woke up in recovery, I could feel that his weight was gone. It was a whole new depth of grief and guilt that I had never felt before.

No amount of running, journaling, yoga, therapy, or trips to Europe will ‘fix’ me.

Several months later it still feels like my breath has been knocked out of me and no matter how deeply I breathe I can’t catch it again. I have realised that no amount of running, journaling, yoga, therapy, trips to Europe will ‘fix’ me. I am broken and always will be scarred. But I also recognise that parts of me will come back stronger, and already have. I am a better healthcare provider than I was before, and a more conscientious and communicative partner in my marriage.

I share my story because during my TFMR I felt like no one truly understood what I was going through. I felt isolated despite heroic support from my family and friends. If just one person reads this and finds similarities in our pain, then that is one person that may feel seen in their heartbreaking journey through TFMR.

And for my baby in the sky, James, I also share this story for you.