As I swiped up for some light social media relief, I was left breathless by the image of Chrissy Teigen crying in the delivery suite. My heart sunk and I immediately recognised the weight and significance of her tearsโshe had just lost her child. I know her. I am her.
As I began looking through the photographs I was overcome with grief. I sat there paralysed and in disbelief. I felt myself being dragged back to that delivery suite and being reminded of a silence that will haunt me forever. Life as I knew it brutally came to an end and I would never be the same again.
A loss like this changes you indefinitely. It robs you of all that what ifs and a naivety of hope that we all deserve to experience in pregnancy. Itโs been nearly four years since we lost my daughter, Charlotte, and processing the trauma of what happened has been relentless and the scars remain. The grief and absence have evolved into a new normal and I have worked hard to accept that life just chose us.
It was a Wednesday morning in January 2017 when my whole world caved in.
Earlier in the day, Iโd been running around trying to get my toddler Mia Grace into the car. I was rushing to get to east Melbourne for a routine 20-week pregnancy scan for our second daughter, Charlotte Rose.
It was an important scan so I had normal nerves about it, but I didnโt think anything would be wrong.
That changed at the clinic when the doctor scanned my belly. I knew something was wrong when the doctor fell silent and her face went blank. I realised that I couldnโt hear a heartbeat.
Thatโs the moment I knew something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Looking more closely at the image on the screen, I could also see that, compared to my previous scans with Mia, what I was seeing this time was different. There were so many problems with Charlotteโs heart. I could see it on the screen.
I still have flashbacks to that moment. It was the moment my whole world caved in.
I remember being in the most extreme shock. I never thought something like this would happen to me. Even now, five months later, I still feel shocked that this is my life and that this happened to me, that Charlotteโs not here.
When I found out that I was pregnant with Charlotte, I had been ecstatic. Of course I was apprehensive about how I would manage two kids (almost) under two, but I was very excited. I was looking forward to having double the loveโand double the trouble.
And when we found out I was having another girl, I was overjoyed. Having grown up with a sister, I had always wanted two daughters. Having two little girls was my happy ending.
Right from the start, my second pregnancy was very different to my first. I joked that pregnancy karma had caught up with me because Iโd had a perfect, textbook pregnancy with my first daughter Mia. This time, though, I had morning sickness and the exhaustion of running after a toddler as well.
But no pregnancy is the same, so I just put it down to that.
A few days before that 20-week scan, we were in Noosa on a family holiday. I remember watching Mia playing in the pool with her dad, and feeling my second daughter move inside me, and being so excited. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
To return home from holiday, and lose all of that a few days later was just so extreme.
After that devastating scan, I had to carry Charlotte for another week before I gave birth. It was the worst week of my life. I woke up every day not knowing what was going to happen. It was torture.
After a week of hell, I was induced in the hospital. My body did all the right things and didnโt want to go into labour. That was a small bit of comfort at the time because I felt as though it wasnโt me. That it wasnโt my fault. What had happened had happened at the moment of conception and it wasnโt something I had done.
When Charlotte came out, apart from the first moment of shock, I was very calm. I held her and she was perfect.
Thatโs when my husband fell apart. I think, for him, thatโs when it hit. We were screaming and crying. In that moment, we thought about all of the milestones we would never have with her. When you lose a child, you lose their future.
We were able to take Charlotte home with us and we spent a day with her there. We took her hand prints and some photos of her with Mia. Iโm so glad we were able to do that, I know not everybody has that opportunity.
One of the worst moments was when the funeral home took Charlotte away. They came to our house and watching them take her was horrific.
You hear all the cliches about trauma, and itโs all true. Grief comes in waves. Some days the waves are a little bit more gentle, but theyโre always there.
My emotions have been up and down and unpredictable. I have days where I feel okay, and others where Iโm not. For two days this week I was in my pyjamas crying. I donโt know what triggered it, but I felt so low.
Sometimes I think I didnโt deserve this and question why it happened to me. But it did happen and I want it to make us better and feel deeper. I want to make the most of every moment. The world is a sadder place now, but itโs also a more beautiful place because I appreciate it so much more. Thatโs the legacy I want for Charlotte.
Itโs another cliche, but life is too short. It really is.
I want people to remember that everybody has a story. There are women out there who have been trying for a baby for years, women whoโve lost a baby like me and people who are just having a shit day. We shouldnโt be so quick to judge. We need to be patient with people and careful of what we say.
I know this pain will always be here, which makes me sad, but Iโm hopeful. This is the new normal for me, and I think it can also be a better normal. At first, I didnโt believe things could get better, but Iโm getting there. Slowly. You canโt rush that.
In the days, weeks and months that followed I made the promise to Charlotte that I would continue her legacy. I would be a voice for others who had experienced this type of loss. I have always asked that those around me say her name, because it doesnโt remind me that she died, it acknowledges that she existed.
I want to thank Chrissy and John for sharing their story with us and taking this dialogue to another level. Their story will help normalise this type of loss and help ease the stigma that so often follows.
I am also very mindful of this timing, as we approach International Pregnancy and Infant Loss day on October 15th. This also happens to be the second birthday of my rainbow babyโMax. The little boy who brought with him a peace that soothed my broken soul. The little boy who brought me back to life.
And to my Charlotteโฆ I think about you every single day. Know that you are deeply loved and missed. I feel your calming presence every time I look into Maxโs eyes. We all love you so much.
Rest in peace baby Jack. I have no doubt that your beautiful family will create meaningful change and help so many in their efforts.
Sarah Jane Young is a blogger, writer and host, who often speaks about life, loss and motherhood on her podcast, All That Triggers. Available on Apple and Spotify.
For grief support phone 1300 11 HOPE