Who Tells Your Story

It is an honor to talk about pregnancy loss.

Let me tell you what I wish I’d known
When I was young and dreamed of glory
You have no control:
Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?
-From ‘Hamilton’

For the third time, I appeared before a group of hospital staff to tell my story of being a patient in Labor and Delivery who would not be taking my baby home.

My previous two experiences were with much smaller groups, part of training classes for new staff. Today was with a much larger group of close to 30 people, in preparation for expanding the SHARE program into another hospital. I always start my story in the same way, “My first two pregnancies were uneventful. During my twenty-week ultrasound with my third child, we found out that something was wrong.” Even two and a half years later, my voice still breaks and I start to cry when I say “And the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat.” I go on to tell them that I became pregnant again two months after delivering my stillborn daughter Nelle. And that at 16 weeks, my second daughter, Iris, had no heartbeat.

I can see their faces as they react to hearing that I lost two babies within six months. I am crying. But, I know that the rawness is needed…