When a coworker, unaware of my recent pregnancy loss, remarked how great I looked for someone six months along, or when a friend bumped into my partner outside the grocery store and inquired about my health—it was like a punch to the gut. And then there was the day my daughter returned from school, sharing that her class was discussing siblings. She told them about her brother, Patrick, who is no longer with us. Each of these instances is both heart-wrenching and significant. They leave me breathless, yet they also provide an opportunity to remember my son, who may not be physically present but is very much a part of our lives.
Patrick was my third pregnancy. My first was smooth sailing, my second ended in a miscarriage at ten weeks, and then came Patrick, whose pregnancy seemed perfect until everything changed at 19 weeks. Each year, I am reminded of that summer trip to the beach when my doctor called with the reassuring news that all tests were normal. But from that moment until September 11, it feels like time slows as we approach an anniversary that no one wishes to celebrate—our beach memories, our Labor Day gathering, and a trip to the Thomas the Tank Engine Park. He was part of all those moments, and then our world shifted dramatically.
September 11, 2017, started cool in Connecticut. I arrived at work early, focusing on a press release when my phone rang—the call from my OB’s office I wasn’t expecting. Instead of a nurse, my doctor was on the line. “The routine tests came back with cause for concern… please come in with your husband today.”
My husband rushed to the hospital, and I felt my heart sink. The ultrasound technician was unusually silent, and when the doctor entered, I understood why: our baby had a spinal defect, with nerves unprotected and fluid building pressure in his head. The diagnosis was devastating, but the prognosis was even worse. If he survived until birth, his quality of life would be severely compromised. As someone who had always supported the right to choose, I never imagined I’d face that choice. How could I bring a child into a world so unprepared for his needs? Moreover, I worried about our two-year-old daughter—how could we alter her life so drastically?
After gathering our thoughts, we drove home. I replayed every detail of my pregnancy, from taking folic acid for over a year to maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I wanted him so badly, as if that could change anything. I wished I could turn back time to before the call that shattered our lives.
The following days blurred together—informing family and friends about our decision, asking a coworker to announce my “loss” to the office, and feeling an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. We painted Patrick’s vibrant blue room a dull gray. On September 15, I entered the hospital pregnant but left hours later, not pregnant anymore.
Our daughter was too young to remember my pregnancy unless we reminded her, and so we did. For a long time, I acted as if it hadn’t happened, spiraling into depression and resentment. The more I share Patrick’s story—through deep conversations with trusted friends or casual mentions during everyday moments—the more I feel his presence and acknowledge his place in our family.
When Patrick’s name comes up unexpectedly, it can still unsteady me, but I’ve come to see the beauty in those moments. They allow for conversations and memories, and while they can be awkward (like when my daughter told her class Patrick is buried next to our spare key in a fake rock, which isn’t true), they are always worthwhile. I refuse to pretend that my son didn’t exist. She is growing up with her little brother watching over her, and it comforts me to know he is watching over me, too.
For additional insights into home insemination, you can check out this related blog post. Also, for authoritative information on artificial insemination, visit Make a Mom. For effective strategies related to pregnancy, WebMD provides excellent resources.
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Summary:
The author recounts the emotional journey of losing her son Patrick during pregnancy and reflects on how to keep his memory alive amidst grief. Through sharing memories and experiences, she finds comfort and connection with her family and encourages open conversations about loss.
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