Motherhood

‘The Most Difficult Decision of My Life’

Photographer Catalina Kulczar-Marin‘s first pregnancy was the opposite of everything she expected. Here’s her story…


The year 2014 started and ended in death. It was just that kind of year.

My stepfather and my mom were about to celebrate their 27th anniversary when he suffered a fatal stroke. I was six when they married, and even though he wasn’t my biological father, he’d always been my dad.

To cope with our loss, my husband Juan Miguel and I slowed our lives down. We moved sluggishly and socialized less. The rhythm of our voices fell behind their usual beat. But we also began talking about starting our own family. Though we’d lost a life, perhaps we could make a new one.

I was 35 when I sought out a fertility specialist. I had been having difficulty conceiving; I was still mourning; and I felt lost. But before our first fertility appointment, miraculously, I found out I was pregnant. What’s more, we were pregnant with twins.

The good news lifted our spirits, and we spent Thanksgiving out of town with friends and family. At the dinner table, we celebrated life, death and love. Our friends offered best wishes for a healthy pregnancy. We were full of optimism for our twins.

Even though I wasn’t at high risk for birth defects, Juan Miguel and I wanted to take every precaution. We decided I would have an amniocentesis. I was 16 weeks pregnant, and we arrived at the hospital feeling hopeful. During the pre-procedure sonogram, I searched the monitor, watching intently as the technicians measured each baby head to rump. But unlike past visits, one of them measured significantly longer and weighed more than the other. I didn’t think much of it, although the technician spent a lot of time roving the sonogram wand over the tight skin of my belly.

We relocated to another room for the amnio. The doctor took what felt like forever choosing where to insert the needles. “Is everything all right?” I asked, starting to feel uneasy. He couldn’t locate a second placenta, he said, and twin pregnancies with single placentas are more likely to have complications.

After the test, the doctor suggested we see experts for further evaluation. Two days later, back in an exam room, I admired our twins from the monitor. The screen looked like a weather forecast. Rainbow colors swirled together as the wand rolled over their body parts; red spots lit up when the technician moved between their tiny heads and even smaller hearts. She barely spoke a word. Next, the doctor scanned my belly and reviewed the technician’s notes. He was searching for something.

After I got dressed, we met with the doctor in his conference room. The twins, he explained, shared a placenta and had a severe version of Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome. One baby was getting too much blood flow, while the other wasn’t getting enough. Later we’d learn that the dire progression of their condition from the time of the amniocentesis to the next sonogram — just two days — was remarkably fast.

We were told that, in our case, the chance was slim that either one would would survive, let alone live and grow healthily (if one twin did survive, he said, it would probably have severe neurological defects, among other complications). After much thought and tearful discussion, we made the most difficult decision of our lives. We would terminate the pregnancy.

Surgery, at the earliest, would be the following Friday, a full seven days from when we’d been faced with our grueling reality. They have a word for aeons such as this: Purgatory.

I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in our bed so we camped in the living room for the whole week. We cried and slept. I couldn’t touch my belly and denied Juan Miguel the same. We slowly said goodbye to our twins.

During this time, a friend gave us a small prism. It threw rainbows on the wall each time the sun glinted its angles. It was the only brightness we would see for months.

A week later, when we entered the fluorescent-lit hospital for our 6 a.m. appointment. I’d asked to hear David Byrne’s music during my procedure. “This Must Be The Place” was playing as I fell into a medically induced sleep.

I was insatiable when I woke up. No amount of water could quench my thirst, and hunger overcame me. My good friend Jessica was waiting for me next to the bed. Professionally, she guides women after they terminate a pregnancy. She held my hand and wiped my torrent of tears. She helped me dress and gave me water. Although I didn’t feel any physical pain and I was home by noon. But I was utterly broken.

Six days later my family and Juan Miguel and I would gather together for Christmas, but we did not celebrate. Tensions were high and my mood was low.

My darkest moment came on Christmas Eve. The immeasurable heap of sadness that I’d been carrying cracked open, flushing me into the dark waters of an emotional meltdown. After unraveling in front of my family, I walked alone to a pier in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It jutted just far enough over the East River for me to picture what it might feel like to let the ice cold water envelop me whole. Wrapped in my puffy coat, I imagined myself like a Medjool date sinking to the bottom of a glass of milk. I needed to shed this skin. I imagined that I’d climb out of my coat and would be left a seed, settling with an effortless “thump” on the river floor. I’d be untethered by this life and free from my nightmare. Blackness would wash over my eyes. I’d be finished with this brand of sorrow.

In my heart I’d already hit rock bottom. But even in the darkness, a dim light flickered inside me. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. Jumping was not the answer.

After the holiday, all I wanted to do was run. I bought new running shoes. Hitting the pavement gave me strength and control. So I hit it hard. I beat the shit out of it. It was my catharsis. Even on frigid January days, I ran to release my grief.

When I started getting my period again eight weeks later, it was a sign of life, even if it was also a haunting reminder of what we’d lost. We went to Costa Rica for a work conference. On the final day, as we all gathered at the beach, one of the speakers’ teenage daughters approached me. “Catalina, can I come to your baby shower?” she asked. We all fell silent. Taken aback, I said “Sure.”

“She is clairvoyant,” the girl’s father explained to me later, “and this is not the first time she’s predicted something of this nature.”

A month later, I took a pregnancy test at Juan Miguel’s suggestion. I’d been significantly more emotional than usual and hormonal to a degree that was quite foreign to him.

“PREGNANT” appeared to us in black digital letters.

No, that couldn’t be right. We waited a week to take another test.

“PREGNANT.” We had conceived in Costa Rica.

We were simultaneously thrilled and terrified to be pregnant so soon after losing the twins. We guarded our hearts closely. But it was a textbook pregnancy. On Tuesday, December 15, 2015, at 4:34 a.m., almost exactly a year after we’d said goodbye to our twins, Pia made her early morning entrance into the world. There she was, in all her healthy glory, our beautiful baby girl — conceived during a time of sorrow, born into sheer joy. We’d come full circle.

That rainbow maker prism now hangs in our bedroom window. Before Pia was born, each time the rainbows appeared I would burst into tears. It was an agonizing reminder of the twins we had never met. Now when the sun slips its way through the mirrored glass, I smile. I say hello to our angels and I tell Pia that her older siblings are in the room looking out for her.

I’ve always believed that the universe doesn’t give us more than we can handle. There must have been a reason for our struggle. If it weren’t for the twins and our immensely difficult decision, we wouldn’t have Pia. Above all, I’m grateful to move forward, the three of us together.

Catalina Kulczar

Catalina, Juan Miguel and Pia.


Thank you so much for sharing this essay, Catalina. Sending a huge hug today to those who’ve had similar experiences.

P.S. On experiencing a stillbirth and three womens’ stories of miscarriage.

(Thanks to Catalina’s friend, Deenie Hartzog-Mislock, for contributing editing to this essay. Illustration by Alessandra Olanow for Cup of Jo.)

  1. Lily says...

    I feel so torn by this essay and the comments. On the one hand, I believe in reproductive rights and in no way want to downplay how excruciating it must be for parents who receive such difficult diagnoses. I also appreciate how supportive everyone has been of each other, especially since what has been shared is so personal. I don’t want to be insensitive to that. I do, however, feel that an important part of this conversation has to do with disability rights. In that light, the selective termination of a fetus based on diagnosis of what is commonly called a “congenital abnormality” or “birth defect” troubles me. My life was profoundly touched by a little boy with a severe congenital illness. He wasn’t able to see, speak, or move on his own and died shortly before his 4th birthday. Despite these challenges, his short life had immense value and forever changed me as a person. I think that in our society, many people consider a disability or life-threatening disease as the worse thing that could happen to a person or family. In my experience, that assumption has time and again proven to be false. I guess I would just like to point out, without any negativity directed towards anyone who has spoken on this thread, that children who enjoy perfect health AND children whose lives are affected by disability and illness are enormous blessings.

  2. Catherine says...

    I never go to the comments section, but this morning my heart sank…. 17 years ago I was faced with the same horrible decision. I won’t go into details, but let me just say doctors, and some of the very best in Montreal as well as Toronto tried to convince me to terminate my pregnancy. I had a feeling there was something I was missing. I searched and searched to web and found the Twin to Twin transfusion syndrome website and found my possible answer. A simple procedure essentially the same procedure as an amniocentesis. Today my girls are healthy and beautiful. Why I wrote here is because it pains me to the core that other mothers are faced with the worst decision in their life and that the doctors do not give them all of the options. I’m just happy this story has a happy ending. Thank you for sharing.

  3. Nora says...

    I am so sorry for your profound loss. I don’t understand or agree with your decision but this shed a tiny bit of light on why and how decisions like this are made.

    • Anon says...

      I also neither agreed with nor understood this decision. Until I faced it myself and had to decide between two options, both of which I did not agree with but ended up understanding too well.

      I appreciate the two sentences you have shared, that you can find empathy and maybe even a bit of understanding for a family struggling with a decision that is (thankfully) unimaginable to most, even when it is counter to your own beliefs.

  4. Thank you for sharing your story, Catalina! I’m not a mother, so I wouldn’t know the tiniest bit what it must be like to lose a child, but I know a few people who have experienced miscarriage. I tend to forget that it hits even closer to home, as my mother had two before me. Sending you, your husband and little Pia hugs today!

  5. So inspiring and amazing story of motherhood

  6. Danielle says...

    Thank you for sharing your difficult story, Catalina. We also had to terminate a very wanted pregnancy and the darkness at first felt like it would never fade. Much like you, we experienced the joyful birth of our daughter almost a year to the day that we had to end our first pregnancy. Sending a bright light to those suffering in the dark.

  7. Stephanie says...

    I read this while nursing my five week old son as he and I enjoy my maternity leave from serving as a director for Planned Parenthood in a small Texas city so confused on women’s reproductive choices. Thank you for this story. I’ve so much apprehension about going back to work. Though the anxiety of leaving my son with strangers won’t subside this story reminds me why I must.

    • Sara says...

      Thanks for your work and all the best to you and your little one.

    • sabe says...

      Please don’t think of it as leaving him with strangers. Five weeks into maternity leave, the idea of putting my daughter in day care was overwhelming for me, too. Hormones and love make that normal. But by the time I did go back when she was 3 months, it wasn’t as overwhelming. And then I got to know her day care providers. They are loving women with experience in child development who help her reach milestones, not strangers.

    • Stephanie says...

      Thank you for your work!

  8. So touching and heartbreaking and yet uplifting. Life is strange that way. Thank you for sharing.

  9. Dylan says...

    What a beautiful and sorrowful, raw story. Eyes pricked with tears more than once. “This Must Be The Place” is a song that fills me with such joy and happy memories of my partner, it’s so interesting how the same song can mark such a dark spot in someone else’s life.

  10. Lorena says...

    Thank you Catalalina for sharing and to A Cup of Jo for giving us a voice.
    I had to terminate my second pregnancy in week 21 due to a malformation incompatible with life, and I will carry that decision in my heart forever. It was the hardest experience I had to go through both phisically and emotionally, and I also had to wait for a whole week like Catalina, which was hell.
    Four years later, and having had two beautiful girls that mean the world to me, I can still feel the weight in my heart of having to choose to terminate a pregnancy of a much loved baby, and it was me who had to make the choice, and one day he was alive, my future son, and the following day he was gone. I don’t have any regrets, he would have had a life that it is no life at all, but still I miss the baby he never got to be.
    Thank you again, and all my love to all mothers.

  11. Lisa says...

    I, myself, had to terminate a pregnancy and it was incredibly challenging and still is today. I admire women who speak out. Thanks for this, and big love to your family.

  12. Diana Silva says...

    My rainbow baby is 4 and not a day goes by that I don’t miss my first son who took his last breath on my chest

    • I am sorry for all of your loss and especially heartened to see your bravery Diana in allowing your son to die in your loving embrace.

  13. Kate says...

    I lost a baby at the exact same time as you. And had a baby girl of the 18th November 2015. my sister in law also lost her baby at the same time. And had her baby girl on the 15th December 2015 too. If only we all knew at the time we were not alone.

  14. I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your story, and your hope.

  15. Alexandra says...

    Thank you for sharing your story, Catalina, and thank you Jo for providing the platform. I had to terminate my pregnancy with my very loved and wanted son this August at 21 weeks due to a diagnosis of Potter’s Syndrome, a complication incompatible with life. It marked a true turning point in my life, and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to access my former naive happiness again. Although I am delighted and relieved to now be expecting his sibling, due in August as well, nothing will ever change the fact that one of our family members is missing. To add insult to injury, the incredibly hyperbolic and uncompassionate way that second and third trimester terminations have been discussed in the media in recent months has been a stab to the heart. Pregnancy loss is always difficult, but termination for medical reasons is a special form of torture. For mothers in my position who choose to suffer for the rest of their lives so their baby never has to suffer one moment of his or hers, it’s unconscionable to make things even harder for them. So I thank you again for this story.

    • Lindsay says...

      This is so beautifully said. Less than a year ago, we terminated a very wanted pregnancy also incompatible with life. Thank you for your phrasing in the last lines of your comment. I’ll carry these words with me for a very long time.

  16. What an amazing story!! Thank you for sharing:)

  17. Heather says...

    Thank you, Catalina, Cup of Jo, and all of the other brave women who have shared their stories in the comments. Five years ago, I also learned that my much-wanted baby girl had a fatal diagnosis at our 20 week ultrasound. I received nothing but love and support from my family, friends, and physicians after I decided to terminate the pregnancy and am eternally grateful that I lived in a large city with access to excellent care. I second the thoughts of all those who have mentioned the importance of championing women’s reproductive rights especially given our current political environment.

  18. Allegra Liu says...

    Heart wrenching and beautiful story. Thank you so much for sharing.

  19. Meg says...

    Thank you so much for this post. I needed this. We terminated our pregnancy at 12 weeks after a fatal chromosomal abnormality was found. We were devastated. I had the procedure 6 weeks ago. It was bar none the hardest thing my husband and I have ever gone through. The experience has changed us, and made us stronger. I had no idea how many women experience miscarriages, or have to make the difficult decision to terminate a pregnancy. You truly don’t know the struggles of those seemingly “perfect families.” My mom shared with us that on the day that we lost the baby, she was in the grocery store and had an overwhelming sense to walk over to a case of rose wine. As she approached the wine, she read it’s label, “Whispering Angel” and noticed a baby cherub at the top of the label. :) These signs are out there, you just have to be paying attention. Your story gives me so much hope and comfort. Thank you.

    • Joanna Goddard says...

      I’m so sorry, Meg. What a beautiful story. xoxo

  20. Wow this was so moving and beautiful <3 I'm sorry for your loss but I'm so happy for your beautiful family.

  21. Laura says...

    These comments are so beautiful. Such evidence that we are stronger together, and that our hearts need community and connection. Bravo to all of you brave women for reaching out and sharing your stories. I felt huge shame when I underwent a pregnancy loss. So glad that I have learned about the importance of support should I ever experience one again. (And I’m also overjoyed to have a rainbow baby now!) Love to you all.

  22. CJ says...

    Just googled “rainbow prism maker” to show to my daughter, who is 10 months old right now. I hope one day it will bring her the same strength and resilience that you have. I’m so sorry for yours, and others, loss through miscarriage or stillbirth, but am glad you have a beautiful daughter now who is blessed with strong parents. xx

  23. Jenn says...

    If I could hug you right now I would. Sending you so much love and thanks for your courage to share. xoxoxoxo

  24. Alycia says...

    Thank you for sharing your story.

  25. Laura says...

    This is incredible how similar our stories are. On November 30th, 2014 my daughter was stillborn at 40 weeks. On December 15, 2015 at 4:59pm, I gave birth to my healthy baby boy. We grieved for our lost babies at the same time, we labored at the same time and we welcomed our rainbow babies on the same day and gave birth minutes apart. I am so sorry for your loss and so happy for you for your sweet December rainbow baby.

  26. natasha says...

    I am so sorry for the immense and deep pain you had to journey through in order to get to this place but so happy for you that you got here, and that you have Pia. She’s a little miracle baby!

  27. Erica H. says...

    Thank you for sharing <3

  28. Beth says...

    Ooh thank you so much for sharing your story!

  29. Theresa says...

    Thank you for this post. I can’t help to think of Leonard Cohen’s quote “there is a track in everything, that’s how the light gets in. “. Hugs to this beautiful family.

  30. Nancy says...

    Thank you for sharing this beautiful post. It’s so important that we give people the room to grieve. xoxo

  31. Beth says...

    I’m another reader who somehow needed this exact post yesterday. I recently lost a newborn premature son after 10 days in the NICU and have been wrestling withs some of the feelings that Catalina expresses. The honesty of your darkest moments , the flickers of light, and also the moments of joy you have now resonate with me and give me hope. Thank you for sharing and connecting to the many women/families that have experienced this type loss in so many different ways.

    • Reagan says...

      So sorry for your heartbreaking loss. May you find new light soon.

  32. I’m so sorry for your loss. I lost my twins at 21 weeks and it’s an experience that changes our lives forever. Thank you for sharing your story and congratulations on your rainbow!!

  33. Ruth says...

    Thank you SO much for sharing your story. It’s so important that we support each other as women, mothers, and human beings, in times of difficulty. Sending light and love to you and your family!

  34. Aj says...

    Beautiful writing Catalina. Wishing you and your gorgeous family all the very best xx

  35. Kristin says...

    Thank you for sharing. I happened to read this while sitting in the OBs office thinking about trying again after 4 D/Cs and 2 failed IVF attempts…your strength gave me strength and hope.

  36. Beck says...

    I am thankful to have read this today. It was a guy wrenching story to read and my heart goes out to Catalina and the many women who have commented here. This space is so unique in its tone. So often, people with different views are painted with a broad brush by opposing camps, it’s helpful to me to read stories like this with an open heart. I am pro-life, but I harbor no judgement for the families that have faced these decisions. With my first pregnancy, we faced a possible Trisomy 21 diagnosis and there is an immediate loss upon hearing the baby you imagined may never be. I’m just rambling now, but I just wanted to leave a little love here as well.

  37. ob mama says...

    as an OB/GYN I am so grateful for this post – because the choices that women make in my office are theirs alone to make, and because they are rarely as cut and dry as politicians would lead you to believe – they are heart wrenching, devastating decisions – and we should do nothing but support the women who have to make them.

    • Laura says...

      Amen. Thank you.

  38. Elisabeth says...

    Thank you for sharing.

  39. Elspeth says...

    Thank you for sharing. We made the decision to terminate a pregnancy at 21 weeks because of a fatal chromosome abnormality. It was a terrible time in my life but I now have two beautiful healthy daughters. So often we see the happy families without realizing the struggle many people have had to get there. I am so thankful to you for sharing your story.

    • Peg says...

      I also had this experience. It was pretty rough, and really sad. And now I have two healthy sons. Also had two miscarriages. We just kept trying. Had my youngest son just last year at age 43. We are tired, but so grateful and happy.

  40. Jessica says...

    Brave. Beautiful. Thank you.

  41. Beth says...

    Reading this beautiful essay yesterday made me feel proud of Catalina and Joanna for sharing this with us. It was a beautiful way of bringing abortion into the conversation. Of course many may choose a different path, but many choose this one and thank goodness it is their choice to make!

    Thank you for sharing this part of your life with us. It brings solace and healing to many!

  42. I am somewhere really really dark and this gave me hope. You just dont know what this story gave me. The words ‘universe wont give us something we cant handle’ that would stay in my head. I want it to stay in my head because I need it to. Thank you for sharing those words.

    • Anonymous says...

      Know there is a community of women (and men) out there and you are not alone. Sending love and support.

    • LorenaV says...

      Yes, these words resonated with me also. They invoked a sense of hope and strength no matter what life throws at you.

  43. This is so heartbreaking and inspiring. A dear friend of mine has recently gone through a similar ordeal. I’ll gently point her to your story and hope she can find some solace knowing she is not alone. Thank you for sharing this!

  44. leela says...

    Thank you for sharing your experience. I’m so sorry for your experience and my heart breaks thinking of what you and your family went through during this time. You and your husband are so strong for surviving what you went through with a positive outlook. Your story embodies why all women need reproductive choices and care, based on medicine and compassion, not politics.

    • E says...

      Agreed!!!

  45. Kayla says...

    Thank you for sharing this beautifully heartfelt essay. It’s promising to have so many people’s journeys out here in the open.

  46. Jess Sterling says...

    Thank you for sharing your beautiful story and bringing attention to this terrible disease that affects so many families. I was diagnosed with Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome during my second pregnancy last year at 24 weeks. I had never heard anything about the disease before I found out that I was pregnant with identical twins. It’s wonderful to see someone writing about it outside of the twin blogs and forums.

  47. Carrie says...

    <3

  48. E says...

    I also endured a similar experience. Making the decision to end my pregnancy broke me. I kept my grief to myself. It’s my most painful, personal secret. My husband begged me to talk to someone.

    This post haunted me all night – bringing back the pain yet helping me on my journey of healing. Thank you for helping all of us to feel like we are not alone!

    After our loss we had a healthy baby. He takes my breath away. Wishing happy endings to fellow mommys and future mommys reading Cup of Jo!

    • Anonymous says...

      “Takes my breath away” is the perfect way to describe the feeling of having a healthy baby after such a loss. I often refer to my son as my “perfect boy,” and am regularly teased about it. :( He is perfect to me because he is healthy and he is HERE.

  49. Brianna says...

    Thank you for sharing your story, Catalina. I read it yesterday, but no words seemed quite right. As someone who has chosen not to have children, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you and your husband to make such a difficult decision. Your daughter is gorgeous and must be such a light in your lives.

  50. Amy says...

    I’m very touched by the original post and the comments. I experienced four miscarriages before having two healthy children. I know many women who are struggling now may be following this thread, so I wanted to offer two books that really helped me: “Knocked Up, Knocked Down,” which was great for solidarity- it is a memoir written by a women about her loss; and “Coming to Term,” which is about better understanding miscarriage as a common medical event (it is NOT a book that proposes medical self-help; it just sheds better understanding on the unfortunately common phenomenon of multiple miscarriages). Links below, and best wishes to those in the trenches right now.
    https://www.amazon.com/Knocked-Down-Miscarriage-Misadventures-Parenthood/dp/0980208130
    https://www.amazon.com/Coming-Term-Uncovering-Truth-Miscarriage/dp/0813540534

    • Christina B says...

      Thank you.

  51. Jane says...

    This is so beautifully written.

  52. Thank you so much for sharing. There is always some reasoning behind what life throws our way and it’s so hard to remember that in times of intense strife. But that hope is always on the horizon – you just have to keep believing. Sending a lot of love to you, Catalina.

  53. Jen S. says...

    I rarely ever feel compelled to actually write comments on blogs, but this time I feel differently. I lost twins at 13 weeks. It was my first pregnancy and we were SO EXCITED. I was traveling in Ireland on a work trip with my boss (who didn’t know I was pregnant) when I started to bleed. I kept googling “bleeding while pregnant” to assure myself that everything was okay. It was just some light spotting at first, but as the trip progressed, it got heavier. The absolutely WORST part was that on the way home our connecting flight was cancelled due to snow, so I was left pacing the airport terminals unsure of how/when I would get to a doctor. The bleeding kept getting worse, and I knew I was in trouble. The next day, we finally snagged a flight home, and we went straight to the doctor who told us that we had lost the twins. I ended up having a D&C because the bleeding was so profuse. To make matters worse, my insurance denied coverage of the procedure because I didn’t seek pre-approval (I was rushed to the hospital in terrible, terrible pain and bleeding so very heavily) and they had the nerve to send me a $12k bill. So, on top of the total sadness, grief, and loss I felt at having lost twins, my husband and I now felt financially ruined. God bless America!

    Ultimately, it all worked out, as I have a beautiful son, who was born 366 days after the loss of our twins. I wouldn’t have him otherwise and he’s so wonderful.

    Thank you for sharing your story, Catalina. I know that after my loss I felt like the only person in the world with the loss, but I slowly learned afterward that many, many women have endured such losses; there just isn’t much space to speak of these losses in our everyday conversations.

  54. Precilia says...

    Less than 3 months ago I gave birth to our first son who was a still born at 33 weeks. He was diagnosed with Edward syndrome (Trisomy 18) at 18 weeks. We continued with the pregnancy, watching him fighting for his life despite being significantly small and having multiple complications with his organs. My heart goes out to you Catalina and all the moms and dads out there who have been through similar journey of losing a child or fighting/praying/hoping for the life of your child. It is no easy task. A large portion of our heart went away with our son Timmy, yet amazingly we felt that it now has a larger capacity to love. Sending lots of love.

  55. I am lost my baby boy at 17 weeks. This happened 6 months ago. I Still feel broken and lost. Pregnancy loss isolates you from your support network – husband, family, friends. It can be an incredibly lonely place. The only thing that helps, even if it is in the smallest way, reading about other people’s stories. We need to break the silence on this taboo subject. Thank you for sharing this on your blog.

  56. Mary says...

    I am so so so so so so happy for you! May blessings be forever more upon you and yours! Lots of love to you xxx

  57. keri says...

    Congratulations on your Rainbow baby. Much love xx

  58. I love that this is a story that not only acknowledges sadness and loss, it’s also a story of hope and overcoming :)