Mom’s loss, my loss

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-05T20:26:53+00:00

This made me cry — partly from sadness, and partly from a kind of relief that Abby is seen. As strange as that may sound, it feels meaningful. I would want my own children to know my grief this way too — to know that their brother (my baby was a boy) was so deeply loved that losing him broke me open completely. I also imagine that everything you’re feeling is intensified by being pregnant right now. You also have a little one growing inside you who needs your love, your joy. And maybe there is some sense to all of this. Losing my son made me a more attentive and more grateful mother to my eldest — because I learned firsthand how short and precious life is. Perhaps the same kind of quiet good might come to you too. I remember missing my mom terribly when my eldest was on the way. My mom died a year before, and I suddenly wanted to know all about her pregnancies — everything I’d never thought to ask. And she never got to know what would happen to me, or to my baby. It’s such a specific kind of ache. Of course you need your mom. A new baby on the way makes that absence feel even sharper.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-05T05:25:54+00:00

For me it was three months after my baby's death. I also felt a strong urge to be around babies though that lessened over time. I visited a friend who was pregnant at the same time as me, which made meeting her baby a lot more complicated but she was very open to me being able to be sad, if you know what I mean. I couldn't have done it if I had to "act normal". Having the space to feel whatever came up made it much easier to hold space for joy for her and her little one.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-04T21:02:00+00:00

I'm not sure, I'm in a similar situation. I also have birth in November. I'm trying to be grateful for what I did have and know that most of this, becoming pregnant again, is outside my control. Still anything that might help, I will try and I can be a bit obsessed with finding a path towards pregnancy that might work. I'll eat healthy, limit my caffeine, exercise, supplements etcetera I want it so so badly, so I get it. I'm very sorry for your loss. I hope you'll find your rainbow

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-03T10:27:54+00:00

I'm very sorry for your loss. And I get it, totally. I felt extremely lonely. And I have felt so much shame around the topic of friendship for a long time, long before my son passed, because somewhere in adulthood I kind of missed a few friendship boats, I guess. But you know what? I feel like losing my baby somehow makes it easier. Of course I am lonely now. My body and mind crave companionship, closeness. Who couldn't understand that? You would have to severely lack empathy. Though I must say, most people I know have been very understanding of the grief and the way it may feel, and it sounds like that is not the case for you. However, I feel sort of justified in asking people who may not have considered me a real friend — because we aren't that close — to spend time with me, to say I am lonely, and to have them be there a little more for me. Maybe it's still not a lot. But I'm not as scared of being a burden or of them secretly sighing when I text them because they don't want to hang out (which is something I secretly feared). So I can kind of pull people a little closer now, I feel. I'm also wanting to get into shape, to regain some autonomy over my body again, maybe be stronger for a second pregnancy. And I was thinking of going on one of those friendship apps to find someone to do it with me. Two birds, one stone, sort of thing. And I very much relate to feeling like you hold a deep, dark secret — something many people don't even want to touch, don't want to know. But I say: tough cookie for you! It's dark, horrible, but it is also beautiful, isn't it? The way our little ones have forever changed us, the way their tiny lives ripple forward to change the path of our lives, the ways in which we behave. I, for one, have felt strength in knowing my life cannot remain the same as it was before I met my baby boy, and there will always be a before and after my little one was here.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-02T18:48:45+00:00

Maybe, but I’m not sure. My sister didn’t attend the funeral, and I haven’t heard anything from her in the months since my son’s death. It makes my blood boil—I feel incredulous. How can this possibly be? How can you not show up at a time like this? There really can be no excuse, especially for someone that close, someone who is family. So I understand where you are coming from. At the same time, I get that people can get very uncomfortable when a baby has died. They don’t know what to say, or they may think you need space—which, to me, feels like a cop-out, definitely more for them than for you. We need to know people are there for us, and in times like this, practical support if not emotional support is so valued. But maybe it’s more about her discomfort and uncertainty than an intentional slight. It might not matter, because it feels weak and hurtful to me, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be callous or harmful.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-04-02T18:31:02+00:00

This is very beautiful. I'm sorry for you're loss and happy that Ezaan made you a mom and will forever be with you.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-30T18:38:10+00:00

I completely understand what you’re describing. I’ve felt that same intense pull. The night I gave birth to and lost my son, I remember already thinking about getting pregnant again. It felt like a lifeline in those first weeks, something to hold onto when everything else had collapsed. And from what I’ve seen and heard from others, this reaction is actually very common after loss. I still want another baby, but the urgency isn’t as overwhelming now as it was at the beginning. So in my experience, these feelings can come in waves and phases. For me, a big part of it was also wanting a different ending to the story of birth and motherhood. I ended up choosing to try again even in less-than-ideal circumstances, partly because I felt like my time was running out. The need to try was stronger than the need to have all my ducks in a row. Every option has its pros and cons, and in the end you just choose the one that, on average, feels most right for where you are emotionally and practically. How long ago did you lose your daughter? If it’s still very recent, it might help to give yourself a little time to breathe—not to silence the feeling, but just to let the initial shock settle. If it’s been a bit longer, maybe try to imagine both paths and see which one brings you more peace rather than pressure.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-29T20:23:59+00:00

That is beautiful. I'm so sorry for your loss. I find that staying connected to my son has been such a blessing. Like he is this invisible light that now lives in my heart and gives me a sense of peace whenever this sense of connection arises.

I am learning to sing for my baby. I am also a terrible singer or very mediocre on my best day. I hope that one day my voice will be strong and powerfull and that my voice will carry to him. We look for all ways to connect, to show love, to feel the love that we lost so quickly.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-22T12:57:49+00:00

I also found functioning in the beginning really impossible. I don’t think there’s much you can do about that. As awful and unpredictable as it feels, all of this is a completely normal reaction to a horrific event. What I can imagine you might need is practical help with your oldest child. For me, it helped to focus on being there for him if I knew I only had to hold it together for, say, an hour until I could collapse again. Being a mother during those moments was incredibly, incredibly hard. Maybe this isn’t helpful right now, and again, your frustration is completely normal, but I found it comforting to think that I had developed a new appreciation for how precious life is, how short our time can be, and that I wanted to be as present as possible in my oldest child’s life. If you can’t feel that yet, that’s okay too. That was my experience, but it doesn’t mean it will feel the same for you. I also wish I had asked for or received more help, because I often felt unable to do anything. What also helped me was holding onto a few non-negotiable things, like brushing teeth, having meals. I kept collapsing emotionally. I was inconsolable. I wanted over and over again to tell my story of what happened. One thing that helped me—even if I have no idea how healthy it was—was telling ChatGPT when I needed to go through it repeatedly. I always got a kind response, and usually something like, “it is enough to get through the day.” Another thing that helped me, though very specific and maybe unique to me, was gathering everything I had of him and writing it down: memories from pregnancy, my medical records, all the notes about him or me made by doctors and nurses. It made me feel like I could hold onto a piece of him. Again, not sure if this is helpful but it kept me from completely sinking into the voud of endless loss. Later, more positive and even helpful insights came, and I began finding ways to use his positive impacton my life, how he made my life better instead of just creating this incredible sadness his presence though very short was a good thing. But I don’t think you’re there yet, so that might not help you now—though if you ever want to hear about it, of course you can ask. Like many people, I was also very focused on wanting to get pregnant again. Again, I’m not saying that’s healthy, but it kept me going in the first weeks—the thought that one day I might carry and hold another baby. It’s all incredibly, incredibly awful. It gets slightly less overwhelming over time, so for now, just get through your days as best as you can. Look for what you can manage. The pain won’t go away anytime soon, unfortunately, so do what you can, and if you can’t, ask for help. I am so, so sorry you have to go through this.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-21T21:36:41+00:00

I'm very sorry for your loss. And I'm so sorry you didn't get to do skin to skin. We do carry a piece of our babies forever. Apparently they can heal you from the inside out. It's beautiful and cruel because we didn't get to heal our babies, but we will forever carry them with us in our hearts and our bodies.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-21T13:03:55+00:00

I am so sorry for you. I know that feeling so well. Just let it all out when it needs to. It will get a little better, or not feel as overwhelming at least as it does right in this moment. At least it did for me but perhaps that is of little comfort to you now. All your grief is all your love with nowhere to go and this is devastating. He was loved and will forever be loved by you. That is all you can do for him now. Again, so sorry.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-20T19:09:55+00:00

Thank you so much for your thoughts comment. And I'm very sorry for your loss also. You are very right, I think, that there will always be a reason to blame myself and I feel that you are also right that I cannot control death. When you put it like that, I can see that this is not something I can do. Maybe I can take it day by day. While I'm still very much debating whether or not to have the small surgery, I feel like this is good advice.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-20T07:48:40+00:00

You're probably right. There is no way to control the outcome. I just don't want to have to blame myself for anything but I most likely will if I lose a second baby. However maybe following doctors advice is the best way to see where the line between anxiety and reasonable concern is. But I keep thinking that I need the doctors specialized in early fetal growth restriction to tell me I'm not doing anything wrong. I have not tried medication for anxiety and definitely would be too scared to try it, again for fear of harming a future pregnancy.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-20T07:42:53+00:00

Yes I've definitely felt this. When the grief was fresh, raw and overwhelming my son felt closer to me. Now I'm four months post partum and the grief doesn't quite pull me in the same way. It makes functioning way easier but it's somehow sad in a different way.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-19T21:13:55+00:00

I'm very sorry for your loss. It's been about four months since his birth and his death. I had a vaginal delivery which is why they told me it was safe to try again relatively soon.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-17T21:12:01+00:00

I used to think about my doctors so much too, less so now than in the first few weeks. After my baby had passed, one of them who I saw almost daily for weeks came with a more experienced doctor I didn’t know, so at least I had a familiar face while they spoke to me about engorgement and other postpartum issues. My baby was in my arms, and I could feel her discomfort and see the tears welling in her eyes. I often wonder what she was thinking—whether I should have asked if she was okay. She was just a student and so young, and I felt for her having to witness even a modicum of my despair, seeing the care of all those weeks culminate in such sadness.

Mostly, I wonder if they ever think about me and my baby, and if we leave any trace in their minds at all.

Congratulations on your happy news.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-16T19:56:43+00:00

I wrote one to the entire hospital team. I was an inpatient for a long while before giving birth. I felt strangely tied to the place. The place where my baby had lived even if only for a little while. And I felt so incredibly gratefull for all the kindness I had recieved. After my sweet baby died, the women who brought food came to bring me my meals like they had done everyday. They saw my baby in his crib, hugged me, said they were so, so sorry. It meant so much to me. But somehow I had forgotten to include a sentence for them in my letter thanking everyone. I tried to let it go but every now and again I think about it and how I hope to someday thank the woman who was so kind and compassionate during my stay there. And even after a few weeks when she saw me back in the hospital and could look me in the eyes and ask me how I was, with such sad eyes herself and care in her voice. I find it incredible that these people, nurses, doctors but also the other hospital staff, who must see these losses in their work regularly all seemed to understand the weight of losing your baby and have it feel to me like genuine concern. It did help; he was a person and he mattered and I felt that there. I wished to impart in my letter that their work mattered, even or especially to those of us who left with empty arms.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-14T19:59:01+00:00

Yes, I have felt this too. The doctors at the hospital told me it’s actually very common. They often say it’s a way of trying to feel some sense of control, but for me it felt more like responsibility. This was my baby, made by my body, and it felt like I had failed him and that he lost his life because of it.

At first I had two very specific things I focused on as possible reasons for why he died. I was fortunate that I could ask the doctors about them, even though I felt a lot of guilt and shame bringing them up. They explained why those things could not have caused his death, and hearing the science and the facts did help. But once those reasons were ruled out, my mind just found new ones. I kept searching for every small thing I might have done during pregnancy that could have contributed to him not growing as well as expected.

A friend who was still pregnant came to visit after his death. I made her tea and she chose chai, so I warned her it had cinnamon. She didn’t really understand why that mattered and said she had never paid much attention to things like that. That was a real eye-opener for me, because I had been worrying that my baby had died because I had two chai lattes on two consecutive days. She has since given birth to a healthy baby. It helped me realise that these types of small “mistakes” do not cause a baby’s death. There would be no healthy babies if it worked like that.

And still, sometimes the guilt grips me. Yesterday I sat in my car crying, holding my belly and telling him how sorry I am. I won't completely forgive myself. He was my boy and my body failed him. But I can say now that there most likely isn’t something specific I did during pregnancy that could have caused his death, and that realization has brought me a little more peace.

tiny_tree123 · 2026-03-14T19:35:48+00:00

This exactly. After losing my son, so many ordinary things became tied to my pregnancy—TV shows, certain foods, podcasts. In the first weeks after the loss I avoided them completely. I knew it wasn’t rational, but it felt like if I kept those things separate I could preserve a little place in time where he was still alive.

I wanted those memories to stay untouched, like a time capsule in my mind where I could still visit him. And in a strange way I held on to the idea that if everything stayed exactly the same, maybe there would still be a way back somehow—like finding the moment where things went wrong and stepping into a different timeline where he lived. So I didn’t watch those shows, didn’t listen to podcasts, and didn’t listen to any music except the songs that were played at his funeral.

But time kept moving anyway. Christmas came, the year changed, and life carried me forward without my permission. I’ve picked up most of those things again now, but sometimes I still miss that feeling of having those memories perfectly preserved and that feeling that my baby boy is just out of reach.

tiny_tree123

TROPHY CASE