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There is no way to prepare yourself for a pregnancy loss. When I became pregnant for the first time, the thought briefly entered my mind. But I quickly dismissed it. I was 29, healthy, and experiencing a completely normal pregnancy.

Until I wasn’t.

One day, we were watching our healthy baby on an ultrasound screen. And within a week we were saying goodbye. It has been six years since we lost our baby, and though the pain has become more manageable, it doesn’t really ever go away — I think that’s just how grief works. It’s personal and individual — there is no timeline, no two people will navigate it the same. I’ve always kept my feelings in a very tight circle of people, and I never saw myself being so open. But I hope that by sharing my story I can help another parent feel less alone.

For reasons we’ll never know, I went into labor at 20 weeks and delivered my son. Thomas came into the world too soon — while in labor we were told he could not survive. I could hardly process the information. We were given a short time to spend with our son before he had to leave us. It was a precious, bittersweet moment I will never forget. I hated every minute of losing him — of losing the life we thought we were going to have as a family. Nothing can prepare you for leaving the hospital without your baby.

We searched for answers and saw multiple specialists, but no one could answer why this happened — it was a medical anomaly. It seemed this news was supposed to be encouraging; we were told it was unlikely to repeat because there was no concrete reason why it happened in the first place. Hardly comforting. I went through periods of anger, depression, and grief I had never known and can hardly explain. I suffered anxiety. I didn’t want to be in large crowds, and I hated being alone. This wasn’t me.

It wasn’t until months later, when I was approached and asked how I was doing and had I talked to anyone yet, that I realized life was going on around me and I needed to figure out how I would, too.

It was months more before I could get through a day without crying, and it was more than a year before I could think about another baby. After suffering such a heartbreaking loss pregnancy lost some of its magic, despite reassurances that we had no reason to believe we couldn’t have a healthy baby. It wasn’t until I saw one of my best friends with her newborn that I felt a desire to try again.

Throughout my second pregnancy I hoped and willed myself to get passed each milestone. We delayed decorating a nursery or choosing a name — we hardly saw the point in celebrating until it felt safe. We welcomed our second son into the world eight weeks early — but healthy! And after five weeks in the NICU, we finally brought our baby home. We have since been blessed with a third son — a completely unplanned surprise. And if it hadn’t happened that way, we may have never had the courage to go through another pregnancy. All of my children have been miracles — gifts that I remind myself to not take for granted.

I didn’t have a choice in what my body did, but I did have a choice in how I reacted to it. Once I worked through the initial shock, I needed to make peace with this loss. This little baby was born to me for a reason; he made me a mother. I made the choice to honor him by finding a way to be happy again, to someday be the mother he deserved to grow up knowing. Choosing happiness wasn’t easy. It took hard work, time, and therapy to feel OK with being normal again. I’ve also tried and failed 1,000 times over and still do. Not because I’m dissatisfied with what I am blessed with, but because I feel it’s important to remember who Thomas was and what he meant to us. There is a fear with grief that if you let go of the sadness, you’ll forget or move on and leave the person you lost behind. It can be a struggle, and some days are easier than others, but I keep fighting.

Losing Thomas changed me. I’ll never be the same person, but I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. I don’t have all the answers, and this is just how my journey has unfolded. I encourage all those who have suffered a loss to remember that there isn’t one way to approach your grief, there is only the way that works for you. Allow yourself to really feel your pain, acknowledge it, look it in the eye, and not let it control you. Ask for help when you need it, and remember that you will be OK again. Just be kind to yourself while you figure out how.