I don't even know where to begin. I'm sitting here crying as I try to find the words to write this because I am hurting in ways I didn't even know a human being could hurt. I am 8 weeks postpartum. I just want my baby. I want my little boy back. His name is Mariel Lucio Rae, and he was my entire world long before I ever got to hold him in my arms. My sweet little dancer. My beautiful baby boy. I remember feeling him move inside me. I remember playing music and feeling him dance along, especially to Bad Bunny. I remember laughing at his little movements, talking to him, imagining his personality, and wondering what kind of little boy he would become. He was so full of life. He had a personality. He had favorite sounds. He knew my voice. He knew my heartbeat. He knew me. And I knew him. My pregnancy was incredibly complicated. We learned early on that Mariel had Down syndrome, a cystic hygroma, and hydrops. We were told his chances of survival were incredibly low. But I fought. God, I fought so hard for that little boy. I went through appointment after appointment, ultrasound after ultrasound, and procedure after procedure. I developed severe polyhydramnios and underwent three amnioreductions because I was willing to do absolutely anything to keep my son safe. I was terrified every single day, but I kept going. Because every time I felt him kick, every time I saw him moving on an ultrasound, every time he danced inside my belly, I had hope. Hope that somehow we would beat the odds. Hope that one day I would bring him home. Hope that all the pain and fear would be worth it when I finally got to hear him cry. At 34 weeks, my beautiful Mariel was born weighing 4 pounds, 10 ounces. And instead of the beginning of our lives together, it became the beginning of our goodbye. My baby had otocephaly and severe abnormalities involving his airway and esophagus. He had no esophagus and no viable airway. The medical team tried to intubate him, but they couldn't. Even a tracheostomy wasn't possible. There was nothing they could do to save him. My baby died after just 19 minutes. Nineteen minutes. I carried him for months. I loved him through every terrifying diagnosis. I fought for him through every procedure. And the world gave me nineteen minutes. How is that fair? How am I supposed to accept that? How am I supposed to understand that I grew an entire human being inside my body, felt him dancing beneath my ribs, learned his little routines, and then had to watch him die? I was supposed to protect him. I know, logically, that I did everything I possibly could. I know his conditions were beyond anyone's control. But there is a part of me that will always wonder whether there was something else I could have done. One more appointment. One more procedure. One more doctor. One more chance. After Mariel passed, I was blessed with 29 hours with him in a cuddle cot. Twenty-nine hours. I held him. I looked at him. I memorized him. His little face. His tiny hands. His beautiful features. I wanted to memorize every single inch of him because I knew those memories would have to last me the rest of my life. And then I had to leave. I had to leave my baby behind. I cannot begin to explain what that does to a mother. To walk out of a hospital without the child you walked in carrying. To have your body recovering from childbirth while your arms are painfully empty. To know that the world is continuing as if nothing happened when your entire world has just ended. And now I'm here. Trying to figure out how to live a life that was supposed to have him in it. People have been so kind. I've received care packages, thoughtful gifts, and beautiful memorial items. I'm even having a custom weighted bear made from his crocheted belongings, with his ashes and hair inside, weighing exactly what he weighed when he was born. Four pounds, ten ounces. I want something I can hold against my chest. Something I can cuddle at night. Something that might make my arms feel just a little less empty. But the truth is, no matter how many custom bears I have made, how many care packages I receive, how many memorial items I collect, or how many beautiful things people do to honor him, nothing is enough to dull this pain. And I feel awful even saying that because I am so incredibly grateful for every act of kindness. But none of it is him. The bear won't breathe. It won't grow. It won't look up at me. It won't reach for me when it needs its mommy. It won't dance when I play his favorite songs. And I think that's what destroys me the most. I don't want another gift. I want my son. I want to feel his little feet kicking inside me again. I want to complain about him keeping me awake at night. I want another ultrasound where I get to see him wiggling around. I want to hear his heartbeat. I want to hold him while he's warm and breathing. I want to change his diapers. I want sleepless nights. I want the crying, the messes, the exhaustion, the ordinary struggles of motherhood that I would give absolutely anything to experience with him. I want to watch his siblings love him. I want to celebrate his first birthday. I want to watch him grow. I want all the moments that were stolen from us. And I can't have any of them. Sometimes I find myself listening to the music I used to play for him, almost expecting to feel him move again. But there's nothing. No little kicks. No dancing. Just silence. God, I miss my little dancer. I miss someone I barely got to hold but knew more intimately than anyone else in this world. I miss the little boy who lived beneath my heart. And I don't know what to do with all this love that still exists when the person I want to give it to is gone. I want to be clear that I am under the care of a doctor and a therapist. I am receiving professional support and doing what I can to take care of myself through this grief. But professional help doesn't erase the fact that my baby is dead. Therapy cannot bring him back. Medication cannot give me another minute with him. There is no treatment that can make my arms stop longing for the child they were supposed to hold. I am trying. I really am. I'm trying to get through the days. I'm trying to be present. I'm trying to find moments where I can breathe without feeling like my chest is being crushed. But sometimes the grief is so overwhelming that all I can do is cry. And I don't want to be told that he's in a better place. I don't want to hear that everything happens for a reason. I don't want someone to tell me that at least I got to meet him. Because I was supposed to get a lifetime. I was supposed to be his mommy here, too. I know I will always be his mother. I know that death cannot take that away from me. But I wanted to raise him. I wanted to know who he would become. I wanted to hear him call me Mommy. I wanted to see the world through his eyes. And instead, I'm learning how to be the mother of a child I have to love from a distance I never agreed to. I'm sharing this because I desperately need to be somewhere that I don't have to pretend to be strong. Somewhere I can say that I'm not okay without feeling like I need to immediately reassure everyone that I will be. Somewhere people understand that I can be grateful for the time I had with my baby and still be absolutely devastated that it was all I got. I don't need anyone to fix this. I don't think it can be fixed. I just need people who understand. People who won't be uncomfortable when I say his name. People who won't expect me to move on. People who understand that grief isn't a lack of gratitude, and that no amount of love, gifts, support, or counseling can replace the child you buried. My son was not just a pregnancy. He was not just a diagnosis. He was not just nineteen minutes. He was Mariel. He was my beautiful, stubborn, dancing little boy. He was loved every second of his existence. And he is still loved now. I just wish loving him this much could somehow bring him back. If you're a parent who has lost a baby, how do you carry this? How do you wake up every morning knowing that the person you would give your life for is never coming home? Because right now, I don't know how to make peace with a world that keeps turning without my little boy in it. Mariel Lucio Rae My son. My little dancer. My forever baby. Nineteen minutes of life. A lifetime of love. And a mommy who would give anything for just one more dance. 💙🪽

My water broke on the 25th at 7 PM. Four weeks early. My beautiful baby boy was born at 7:34 AM on the 26th. We got to hold him for two hours before we lost him. I miss him so much. I have to say goodbye to him today and I am not ready to let him go. How do you continue? How do I leave him? I have to go home empty handed. All I want is my baby boy.

Hi. We lost our daughter at 27 weeks pregnant almost two years ago. At that time my (other) first born daughter was 2.5 years old. She was very excited to be a big sister. We explained that her sister was very very sick and eventually "went to the stars".

My extended family was not particularly supportive and for the most part never mentioned my loss. I didn't want this at home so we kept baby's memory alive at home, highlighted her "birthday" last year, etc.

My daughter is 4.5 years old now. She still talks about her baby sister on a weekly if not daily basis. I do my best to answer her questions (what Baby looks like, where she went, what she's doing). We have explained to her that her sister is an angel and that she loves her very much.

I'm not really sure how to support my daughter in her grief.

We've recently received an invitation from the hospital for a memorial service for all babies lost. Should I bring my daughter?

I am worried that I have done my daughter a disservice in talking about her sister and perhaps added to her grief when she might have forgotten? At the same time, this is the story of our family...

Hello everyone. It has been 27 days since I lost my son. He was born alive at 24 weeks and 3 days, and passed away 10 minutes later. His birth was caused by cervical insufficiency, followed by PPROM (preterm premature rupture of membranes). Lately, I’ve been feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt, because I believe I could have noticed it sooner. I didn’t have any symptoms, but I simply waited for my scheduled monthly check-up; I keep asking myself why I wasn’t more insistent and why I didn’t ask for an appointment earlier. Perhaps, if I had realized it sooner, things wouldn’t have ended this way. I hate myself. I hate the life I am living right now. I miss my son, and I miss who I was before. I cannot seem to escape this vortex of anxiety and depression. Yesterday, a colleague asked me how the pregnancy was going. I didn’t answer. I don’t have the courage to tell people like that—who aren’t exactly close friends—what happened. Do any of you experience these kinds of feelings?

TW nuchal cord

Hi everyone, I’m new to this sub. I guess I just need a place to vent, or at least yell into the void. About 3 months ago we lost what would have been our first child, a boy. At 18 weeks and 3 days they couldn’t find a heartbeat. Everything had been normal up until that point. After I delivered him they found that he had a case of nuchal cord. The cord was wrapped tightly around his neck six times. Obviously we were devastated and are still trying to process everything. We initially wanted to try and find the cause and were wanting to do all the tests… but after finding out about the cord we declined because that seemed to be the obvious cause. I guess I’m just wondering if anyone else had something similar happen. I would never wish this on anyone. It just seems so crazy and unlikely. I’m still reeling from it 3 months later. Anyway, if you made it to the end of this post, thanks for being here.

TW: for impending baby loss

I didn’t really know how to title this appropriately so I’m hoping this post will be read, BUT a family member I am close to was just diagnosed that her baby has genetic issues, and will sadly lose the baby. She has chosen not to “terminate” or “induce” (idk how best to put it) which means she could either lose the baby soon, closer to her original due date, or after birth.

For those that chose to continue their pregnancy after a similar diagnosis, I would really love to hear how you wanted and best received support from family and friends as your pregnancy progressed even with the knowledge of impending loss? Whether you wanted the pregnancy to be ignored? Or for family to still ask you questions and ask about the baby? Or celebrate the little life? I know everyone is different and of course it really is up to her, but it isn’t the time or place to ask this of her and also isn’t appropriate to put another burden on her.

I will respect her wishes once she feels ready to share more about them, but just wanting to hear anyone else’s experiences and just take it all in. I also want her to know that I still want to acknowledge her child, they will be loved even with their short time they would be with us. Any advice, experiences, or input would be appreciated.

My baby died a month ago very close to his due date, which was yesterday. I made a deal with myself once we found out that he had passed - accept all the help, walk through the toughest parts of grief, feel all the pain, continue walking because you have to. I’m still devastated but it has gotten so much better. I’m only.a month out, but I was terrified that this level of pain would be forever. It does for some people and that’s very valid. But it is not always the case. Sometimes you are able to process it fully and you get very very lucky to be able to move forward. You might get lucky. So t lose hope ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It’s a long, painful story that I’ll share one day… Although I knew these complications were very likely for a while, it still shattered me. In a few days, I’m about to go into labour for a medical termination (TFMR) and I’m terrified. From what the doctor explained, I’ll have pills inserted and then I wait until I’m in labour. It’s about 460 grams and I’ve only ever been sexually active about 5 times (very conservative background). What should I (24F) expect? Has anyone been through this and what was your experience during the process and recovery? How has it affected you physically? Mentally and emotionally, I’m currently locking myself out of feeling anything and choosing not to see it. I want to distract myself with everything other than emotion. At 23 weeks, has it been painful and is there bleeding? scarring, tearing and what are the long term effects (physical and emotional)? My husband passed days after we conceived and now my baby is about to because of a weak heart… I’m going to need to start my life over someday and I’m scared. Mentally, I’ll never be the same… but will my body ever be?

I lost my baby at 24+5 weeks unexpectedly. I didnt have any symptoms except there was no fetal movement one day and the L&D told me her heart stopped beating. After I delivered vaginally, I did so many blood tests to figure out what was wrong. Everything came out fine even cord and placenta.

Even though I know I shouldnt, I just kept blaming on myself. One of the things that I kept thinking about is eating sweets and too much carbs. I have pcos. My AMH level was 37 before I got pregnant. Even my doctor was so shocked how high the number was. I drank one can of coke zero almost everyday, ate sweets and carbs.

I had an appointment to do the glucose test in 2 weeks from the delivery, and never got to do it. Do you think this could be factor of my baby’s death?

Hello all, I am deep in the depths of dealing with loss and looking for a ray of hope, I lost a baby in May due to trisomy 16 at 10 weeks, and this weekend I delivered our 17 week baby which we don’t know yet why she passed. I am desperate for a second baby and a sibling for my little boy but I feel like I can never trust my body or go through that again, has anyone experienced similar and had a healthy pregnancy after ? Or even if your in the same boat and want to connect x

My husband and I have been struggling with infertility for almost 5 years. After three IUIs, our second IUI was finally successful, and we were beyond happy. After years of praying, hoping, and waiting, we finally thought we were going to become parents.

Unfortunately, our happiness was short lived, and I miscarried in February. We named our baby Micah.

Our baby’s due date was supposed to be around November 1st, and as that day gets closer, I’ve been struggling emotionally. It’s hard knowing that I should be preparing to bring our baby home, but instead I’m trying to figure out how to get through a day that was supposed to be so special.

I really want to do something meaningful to honor Micah on that day. I’ve even thought about doing a remembrance photoshoot, but part of me wonders if that’s strange since I miscarried so early.

For those of you who have experienced a miscarriage, did you do anything special on your baby’s due date? Did you have pictures taken or create something to remember
them by?

I know our baby was only with us for a short time, but Micah was so loved and wanted. I just don’t want that day to pass like it was any other day.

I recently miscarried at around 12 weeks after an unplanned pregnancy.

My husband had not wanted another child, but I became very attached to the pregnancy and was devastated by the loss. We had a fight when my husband said while I was miscarrying he didn't want this baby and won't try again. We haven't talked after that. My husband just completely shut down and I’ve been struggling with how alone I feel in my marriage.

We already had problems before this, but after the miscarriage I don't feel like working for our marriage anymore. I still love my husband very much and we have children together, so the thought of divorce is incredibly painful. But I don't know how we can go forward. Losing my baby and not even trying to get them back is messing with my heart and head so bad I can't even think straight anymore.

Has anyone else started seriously considering divorce after a miscarriage? Did the loss change how you saw your relationship?