What we’ve lost.

(I’m aware that you can only see the photo in the previous post if you follow me on Instagram. That was the easiest way to get the news out there at the time. I plan to write a proper post explaining exactly what happened but I just can’t right now.)


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Photo by Anthony on Pexels.com

The worst thing about this entire situation is that I’ve lost so much more than just our babies – and legally not even that. At almost 17 weeks, this is considered a late-term miscarriage. They don’t get to be registered or officially named. Legally, we are not and have never been parents. My baby boys will forever be no more than  a footnote in my medical history. And yet they were here, they were real. I saw them. I told them I loved them. And now they’re gone.

But that’s not all I’ve lost.

We were, of course, looking forward to being parents… but also specifically to being twin parents. Two babies at once was obviously going to be a challenge, but I am convinced, also very rewarding. We had already started discussing twin prams, how to feed two at once, where they would sleep. Although we hadn’t bought anything yet, everything was finally starting to feel real. All those dreams, all those plans are also gone.

I had started daydreaming about life with our babies. Who would they take after? What colour eyes would they have? Would they be musical like Jan? Would they love books as much as I do? Now I will never know any of those things.

And beyond that… beyond just me. Yes, I’ve lost my babies… but I’ve also lost Jan’s sons. Our parents’ first grandchildren. They would have been nephews, great-grandsons… they would have been so loved and cherished. Now all that’s gone as well.

We will get through this. We won’t give up and we will have another baby. But we won’t have these babies. And that really hurts.

36 thoughts on “What we’ve lost.

    1. Exactly… the fact that it was so sudden. We had no warning. I barely even had time to realise it was happening before it was over. My pregnancy had been perfect up to now and I was finally truly starting to believe we were going to be parents, and now I feel like that ability to plan ad be happy has been taken away for all future pregnancies as well. How can I ever be relieved to reach the second trimester again?

      1. I HATE HATE HATE that MC does that to us. I have immense fears of getting pregnant again because how can I be sure that everything will be okay? How can I ever? I wish I had some words to comfort you. All I can say is this isn’t fucking fair. It’s one of the most unfair things in this totally unbalanced world.

  1. I really can’t imagine how you are feeling and it’s so hard to know what to say, I’m sure no words can comfort you right now.
    A friend lost her baby early and I think/ hope it helped her , just to talk about it with people. Her and her partner have a bench in their little yard which is inscribed with the name they had chosen for him. It’s a tribute to him, the person he could have been, the baby they didn’t get to see grow up.
    They have a little girl now.
    Love to you both. x

    1. Thank you. I know there are no words. Every single comment, email, message etc. Helps. Most of them make me cry, but I think crying actually helps as well. I’m sure talking will help in the future, but right now I can’t even find the words to say what I need to. I am talking to Jan a lot but everyone else will have to wait. For now I’m just responding to messages when I feel up to it.

  2. Dear Bev,
    I’m so sad to hear about your loss. It must be a heartbreaking time for you and Jan. I am keeping you in my thoughts.

  3. My heart hurts for you. It is such a complicated loss. You are mourning, not just the babies, but also the future and the possibilities and the life you would have had with them. I like the earlier comment that mentioned a memorial bench. Maybe something similar would help when you are ready.

  4. You’re definitely in my thoughts right now, Bev. Such a heartbreaking loss for your family. Seeing parents go through the loss of their children is earth shattering. My love and prayers are with you guys ❤

  5. I exist because my mother miscarried. When I talk about my family, I sometimes say that I’m the fifth of four children, and most people don’t catch that those numbers don’t work unless you’re including one who didn’t make it. She had a name, though, and a due date. She didn’t make it to term, and my parents decided to try just one more time- so here I am. The emergency standby child.

    Every woman in my family has miscarried- and they always remember. But they also each went on to have healthy, happy children and the family continues to grow.

    Hang in there, Bev. I know this hurts now, and it sucks beyond reason, but you’ll get through this, in time. And you’ll be a great mom some day.

    1. Thank you Steven. Your words mean a lot.

      Apparently 1 in 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. So much heartbreak. For this to happen at 16 weeks just feels unnecessary cruel though. And the fact that the babies were absolutely fine. We will get through this but it feels so unfair right now.

  6. I’m so sorry for your loss, both of your sons and the future you had been expecting. Miscarriage is such a brutal, heartwrenching experience and it’s awful how many of us have to live through it. Mine was earlier, at 10 weeks, so I really can’t imagine how a late term miscarriage would feel. I’ll be thinking of you and Jan as you navigate your particular grief. Be kind to yourselves.

    1. Thank you so much. Miscarriage is horrible at any stage and I an so sorry you had to go through that, but losing them at such a laye stage really does seem unnecessarily cruel, especially since the babies were absolutely fine right until the end. If only my body hadn’t gone into labour. We are getting there a day at a time and just hoping there will be some answers at my appointment next week.

      1. I am trying not to blame myself, but it is hard not to feel like my body has let me down again. First by failing to conceive on its own and now this. I am working through it though and I realise it’s just really bad luck. Nobody is to blame.

      2. It’s good you KNOW that and I hope soon you can also truly FEEL that it’s not your fault (and forgive/accept your body). I didn’t live through what you did and hope I never will, but I blamed myself (and indeed my body!) for complications during Arthur’s birth (did not have long-term effects, just made the first days harder for him, really nothing serious, objectively) and for not being able to breastfeed him. I felt like I failed him and am completely useless as a mother. So what I do know is that blaming yourself is the worst thing. Along with this scary feeling that you cannot control the things your body is doing. I know there’s a fundamental difference between our experiences, which is that something terrible happened to you and you have reason to grieve, whereas I should have had all the reason to be happy and was just sabotaging my happiness, so I’m sorry if you perceive such a comparison as out of place. Friends who were listening and a psychologist helped me to stop blaming myself.

  7. Hi Bev, I have been sadly absent from WordPress since June so have only just seen your announcements. I don’t know what to say except that I am so terribly terribly sorry for you. Nobody deserves such devastatingly bad luck and it is just so unfair. I know that nothing will make you feel better but I am glad that you were treated kindly in hospital and that your babies will be surrounded by other babies and I hope that one day it may be of some comfort to know that they won’t be alone. All my thoughts and prayers are with you and Jan and I sincerely hope that you have the support to be able to mourn in whichever way gets you through this awful time. Lots and lots of love to you both and take very good care of yourselves.

    1. Thank you. I truly appreciate your words. We are doing okay. At times it just feels surreal – like the entire pregnancy was a dream. Especially now my body is back to normal again. No more baby bump 🙁 The extreme sadness will pass and I hope we will conceive again, but I will remember our first babies forever.

  8. I haven’t been blogging for a while but came back to the blogosphere today and thought I must check in on my blogging friend Bev. So I have only just seen your posts and learnt of the tragedy you are experiencing. I am so sorry. I read other people’s kind and thoughtful comments and wondered what I could possibly add but I know right now nothing anyone can say is going to help heal this loss. So I just wanted to post to let you know another person is thinking of you and your boys and husband and all the other lives your sons already touched and would have enriched so much more had the universe given them the opportunity xxx

    1. Thank you so much. Your thoughts are truly appreciated. It’s so, so hard right now but getting easier every day. I find myself able to smile occasionally, then feel guilty for feeling happy when my preciprecious babies aren’t here. I know it’s all part of the grieving process though and I will get through it. Every single person has been incredibly supportive and Jan has been my absolute rock, as cliché as that sounds.

  9. When I read your words about not having THOSE babies, it strongly reminds me of something I read or saw once in a book or felt like something from a book- there was a whole universe of possibilities in those twins and you had glimpsed that in your imaginings, hopes and daydreams and then that world of possibilities was taken away from you- of COURSE it will hurt- and no other baby will be those two boys (indeed they are their own person)- I always find it hard when I hear people have told people who have miscarried that they can always have another- because I think of those lives and feel that that is an insensitive thing to say to you. We will grieve alongside you for your loss- please know we are there if you need us! You are wonderful person and I send you all my best wishes.xxx

  10. You are a mother Bev. You had two boys, they each had a heartbeat, they lived within you. From the moment their little hearts started beating you became a mother. You began looking after them from the moment you knew they existed, you loved them from that moment. No one can take that away from you.
    It hurts me still that my child wasn’t registered, didn’t exist in the eyes of the law, but in my heart I know different.

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