Loss. Love. and Motherhood.

Thanks for visiting No Twiddle Twaddle. I’m sharing my stories of birth and motherhood in a series called: Motherhood: A Journey of Laughter, Tears, and Love. You can start with my first and humorous account of my first child’s birth.

Today, I’m writing about my second child’s birth and short life. His birthday will be in just a couple days and October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month in the United States, so this post seems appropriate though its difficult to write. Stories like these are important as many women suffer in silence. Breaking the silence builds empathy and helps celebrate the love that we share as moms.

infant loss: The hardest part isn't losing a child, it's learning to live without that child. No Twiddle Twaddle


I was 22 weeks pregnant with my second child, feeling great and having no medical issues. My 20 week ultrasound had revealed we would be having a second boy. My husband and I were elated and I was just starting the process of sorting through clothes and baby items to get ready for the birth.

Then, I woke up one Friday and saw just one spot of blood. I had bled off and on multiple times with my first, but I finally decided to call the doctor. Just in case.

I told my doctor that I wasn’t worried. My son was still kicking and moving and felt fine. He said, “I’m not worried about the baby right now. I’m worried that you are dilating.” I drove to the doctor’s office immediately.

But, the visit was reassuring. I showed no physical changes of dilation and the baby’s heart beat was normal. An ultrasound was scheduled for Monday and I was sent home and told to take it easy.


I rested on the couch trying not to think about all the work that I needed to do, but instead of getting better I continued to bleed lightly and started having mild contractions. I phoned the doctor again. This time I was sent to the hospital for an emergency ultrasound.

My husband and I raced to the hospital. I was in denial that anything could be wrong and was just hoping to finish our visit in time for our evening plans. When my turn for an ultrasound came, I was relieved to see that our son was fine and that the placenta was still attached with no visible bleeding.

But then the doctor on call checked my cervix. I wasn’t worried, after all I was fine yesterday. But, the doctor’s face didn’t look reassuring this time.

“I’m sorry, but we will have to hospitalize you until birth,” she said. “You are two centimeters dilated and your bag of water is protruding. It looks like a balloon about to burst. If you lay very still, there is a small chance that your bleeding will stop, your bag of waters will retract, and we can perform an emergency cerclage.”

I was confined to a hospital bed and instructed to move as little as possible. Placed in the dreaded Trendelenberg position with my head significantly below my feet, I was extremely uncomfortable. At one point I could not stop coughing, and I asked the nurse if my coughing threatened my pregnancy. Her answer of “yes” chilled me.

We were visited by a NICU specialist and shown a chart where all the pain and joy of thousands was reduced to columns of numbers. Our baby had less than 5 percent chance of survival based on his age. While the prospect of a 24-25 week birth was still grim, in my situation it was the only miracle that I was encouraged to hope for.

But, I was confident that everything would be okay. Everything had been perfect and I was so healthy.


I woke up bleeding significantly and contracting. By mid-morning, my contractions were regular. I waited for a break in visitors to talk to my husband. I’m going to give birth, I told him. I can feel it, and I can’t stop it.

Shock took over and my thoughts became robotic in those hours. I calmly breathed through my increasingly more painful contractions and talked to guests who kept telling me that I would be fine. By late afternoon though, I asked the medical staff if I could change my position as my contractions were painful to the point that I couldn’t continue to lay still. Due to the bleeding, a magnesium wash or other medications were not an option to stop labor.

My body was killing my baby by giving birth at 22 weeks. I had no choice to comply. My emotions were so cold from shock and exhaustion that I almost felt almost nothing. I chose to give birth with no pain medication. The pain of birth was preferable to the raging pain inside.

When my little boy was born though, my shock turned to love. He was beautiful even at 22 weeks. True his coloring was dark and he was extremely thin like all young preemies. But, his face, hands, and feet were perfect. And, he was still living, barely by a strand. My miracle was that I was able to hold him living and let him pass away in my arms loved and secure.

Good hospitals perform simple death rites for parents who lose infants. The nurses dress the babies in beautiful homemade clothes, give the baby a bath, and take photos.

This process was a horrible experience but it was right. Our baby deserved to be treated like a human and shown respect.


I left the hospital Monday. I was exhausted and felt terrible, but the doctors wanted to discharge me and I was tired of the hospital. It was then that the reality hit me. Losing my child wasn’t the hardest part, the hardest part was going to be living without him.

When the aid came with a wheelchair to take me to my car all I had was a box of my baby’s things on my lap. The aid couldn’t seem to understand why I couldn’t stop crying, and mumbled something about how “she understood having lost a grandma.” I experienced for the first time the isolation of losing a baby, how so many people think that they understand but the people who understand the best never say so because they know they can’t ever fully understand your grief.

our experiences may be similar but our grief is unique. No Twiddle Twaddle


I felt such a sense of shame being wheeled from labor and delivery without my baby. I felt like a failure as a mother. I felt empty, confused, and burning with sadness.

Rather than going home to take care of a baby, I went home to grieving relatives and friends. I started the overwhelming processes of funeral planning while recovering from birth and of mothering one child while grieving the death of another child.

In the weeks ahead, life continued to feel like a cruel joke. My milk came in on schedule with no baby to drink it. My insurance company sent me brochures about well visits and the importance of breast feeding. My older child patted my belly still enlarged from pregnancy asking about the baby. And, I dreaded going out for fear that any numbers of triggers would send me into an emotional spiral.

The Conquering of Love in Loss

As time went on though, I began to understand that the sadness was just a part of my experience. That the sadness only existed because of the love. That love for my child was greater than loss. And, that I would never choose to let go of even my short experience with my child in order to not experience the pain of losing my child.

Spiritually, I experienced a similar emotions. God seemed absent and distant and reading the Bible was difficult. But, just like in The Princess in the Goblin, I felt the thread of faith running through my experience. There was always just the sliver of light to follow even though everything else seemed dark. The beauty and mystery of God that I experienced and wrestled with, I don’t believe that I ever would have seen except for the darkness.

Even though I would give anything to have my child back, I believe that he gave me one of the greatest gifts in his death. He taught me core lessons about who I was, what I believe, and gave me the courage to live life again after loss.

That’s why I want to remember Reuben today, and tell his story. I don’t want his story to be that his loss conquered me, but instead for his story to be that the love I experience in loss inspired me.

And, that’s why I would love for his birthday to see his life inspiring kindness. Would you consider doing an small act of kindness today or over the next week in memory of him? And, then sharing that story with me.

happy birthday 2

I can’t think of a better say to say “Happy Birthday, Reuben.”


Bethany Winston: No Twiddle TwaddleHi! I’m Bethany. I’m a mom, weekly Greenville News columnist, and co-owner of Kidding Around Greenville SC. Welcome to my parenting blog No Twiddle Twaddle, all about adding a little magic to kids’ lives through play and reading. If you are new, don’t miss these popular posts: Skin Therapy Play Dough, Sticky Blocks, and 50+ No Sew Halloween Costumes. You can join me on Facebook, Google+, Twitter, and Pinterest (I’m a BHG.com Pinner Pro!). Subscribe via email to get my updates straight in your inbox.

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  1. Bethany T says

    Beth, I still look at my photo memorial of Reuben all the time as it’s been in my Bible since his funeral. Your strength and ability to help others through your loss is inspiring. More importantly, your reception of the grace of God and your acceptance and embrace of His will in your life is an example to all, no matter what their story.

    Thanks for continuing to be an example and sister to me. Happy birthday Reuben – beheld by his family and given back to God. We love you always.

  2. says

    i am sorry for what you went through. i lost my first baby – he was stillborn. i came home to our new, empty, seemingly huge, house; i felt like a mother with no children. everywhere i looked, i seemed to see expectant mothers and mothers with infants…a very painful period of my life. i could relate to much of what you experienced. i will perform an act of kindness this week in reuben’s name.

  3. says

    I am so sorry that you had to experience this. I lost twins at 20 weeks and a singleton at 16 weeks before my boys and again <?C after my youngest was born. The loss of potential is horrible, beyond words really. I will light a candle for your son and your family. You are in my thoughts.

  4. says

    Words are so inadequate in the face of your sharing the journey of your loss. It is a treasure to ask for kindness in Reuben’s name. I will join the birthday anniversary with expressions in his and your honor. Thank you for sharing your story, and especially for including the role that your faith played in your process of grief.

    We ‘lost’ a grandchild in a very parallel story. Our adult kids participate in an annual ‘walk’ in Denver for parents who grieve. At the conclusion of the walk everyone releases a helium balloon. They have told us that they still cry every year, but that there is also a great sense of unity in being surrounded by others who ‘understand.’

    Thank you for your insight. Know that you are surrounded by caring today because of your sharing.

    Strength and courage. Strength and courage. Strength and courage.

  5. says

    Thank you for sharing your story. I know it takes so much courage to put it out there, but it’s also healing to share the memories of your sweet boy. We lost our stillborn son in August 2011 at 30 weeks, and I continue to talk about him and remember the little details about him, even though he isn’t here with us anymore. Happy Birthday to your little boy <3
    Melissa – The Eyes of a Boy recently posted…Fall Tree Art with Leaves from Nature – Fun Toddler CraftMy Profile

  6. says

    What a beautiful way to remember him – by not letting the overwhelming grief conquer you, but by spreading kindness in his memory. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I admire how you handle it!
    Emma recently posted…Lollipop GhostsMy Profile

  7. says

    I haven’t been as engaged with my own blog or other blogs lately through a need to pull back and focus a lot on my family right now. However, this morning my husband stayed at home with our 2 year-old and offered me a morning out for some time to myself. Then, Deirdre shared you post — I’m glad she did. I won’t begin to say that I remotely understand what you went through and the ways it continues to affect you and your family, but I will say I appreciate that you shared your experience. A friend of mine recently went through something very similar. She lives a few states away and I struggle with how to support her at this difficult time, as the loss is recent. Reading your story reminds me of the singularity of grief, of the importance of being supportive, but also of recognizing that each person’s experience is unique. I know it must have taken a lot of courage to share this, but that it probably also was an important part of your healing process. The primary reason I value KBN is because of the connections to other amazing women, mothers and educators — to others who bravely share their stories. Thank you.
    Jennifer Fischer recently posted…{Kid’s Co-Op} Celebrate Food Day with Healthy Recipes Kids Will Love and Edible Food Play – #KidsintheKitchenMy Profile

  8. says

    What a beautiful post, I have tears in my eyes as I write this comment. I am so touched by the strength and love that shines through in your writing. Sharing this everywhere I can think of because I know it will be of great comfort to other parents out there. We will be doing lots of kindness acts in Reuben’s name too. Prayers and hugs for you all!
    Megan recently posted…Candy Science for Kids: M&M ExperimentMy Profile

  9. Kirsty says

    My husband and I were expecting twin boys on the 1 April 2015. Unfortunately when I was 22 weeks and 2 days I started with girdle pain and midwives provided telephone advice to manage it, after these steps the pain felt to be worsening and then followed with slight bleeding. We immediately went to the hospital, the pelvic pain worsened and when we got to hospital (20 minutes drive) an examination revealed I was 10cm dialated and there was nothing that could be done for our twin boys – they would be born and inevitably die. Euan did not survive labour and Evan was born in his sac and we were able to hold him whilst his heartbeat faded away.
    This was all 13 weeks ago and we are working towards getting through their planned section date (10 March) and then their due date. The pain of getting past 20 weeks thinking you are in the all clear and being excited about having two little treasures to only have this pulled out from under you cannot be described as anything other than heartbreaking. My angels didn’t have a fighting chance.
    Bless your Reuben an angel that grew his wings too soon xxx

    • says

      I’m so sorry to read your story, Kristy. And, I’m sorry that I saw it a month after you wrote it (I don’t check this blog often). I hope that you are finding peace and hope in your journey. It was a really long one for us. Feel free to email me if you need support bethany.winston @gmail.com.

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