A mother’s story of love and loss

February 8, 2022April 25, 20226min read

“You will never get over this, but you will get through this.”

This Valentine’s Day hits differently for me. I have been very fortunate to have my forever Valentine, Dan, for 10 years. But this year, my heart is very different. It’s completely broken but, at the same time, filled with so much love – love for our son, Otto, whom we lost on August 20, 2021.

It was the best day of our lives because we got to meet him; but it was by far the worst because we had to say goodbye to him. I will never forget the love I felt on that day or the love I will always have in my heart for him. He is our firstborn, and I miss and love him so much.

I share our story, not to frighten expecting mothers of what “could” happen to them but to bring awareness of certain things that blindsided me.

I share our story to help other baby-loss mothers feel less alone, because I know how lonely this experience can be. I share our story to honor our sweet son. I love talking about him, and he will forever be part of our family.

Our birth story

My husband Dan and I were due with our first child – a boy – on September 12, 2021.

As the youngest of three girls, having a boy was new territory for me. I was excited to be a “Boy Mom” and have a mini-me of my husband. Plus, all my girlfriends were having boys, and even my sisters and sisters-in-law had boys as their firstborns.

I was so excited to join the “Boy Mom Club” and share in this stage of life with my sisters and friends.

According to our OB, we had a “perfect” pregnancy. Our son was growing at the perfect rate; he had a strong heartbeat; and all scans looked great. We had our baby showers.

The nursery was done (adventure themed). All his clothes were washed. The car seat was installed, and our hospital bag was packed.

The morning of our 36-week appointment, I felt paranoid. He felt different to me and hadn’t been moving around as much.

I knew our appointment was that afternoon, so I pushed my worrisome thoughts away and stayed positive.

We got to our appointment, and our OB came in excited, saying, “We’re in the home stretch!” It felt so real and so close! He would be here within the month.

Our doctor then went to check our son’s heartbeat and couldn’t find it. She didn’t seem too concerned and told us we should get an ultrasound – the first my husband would be able to see due to Covid-19.

We never found a heartbeat. Our world stopped.

Otto William Olwig was born at 6:26 a.m. on Friday, August 20, 2021. (Otto and William are both paternal family names). He was 5.6 lbs. and 20 inches long.

We were asked if we wanted to hold him, and I am so grateful we did. He had the cutest little face and, of course, dark hair like my husband’s and mine. I have never felt love like that before, and it is a feeling I will hold onto always.

After our loss

I do not remember the first few days after we lost Otto. They are a complete blur to me. We were in shock, and everything felt so raw.

How could this have happened? We had the “perfect pregnancy.” We were healthy and young. What went wrong? What did I do? How did I not protect my son?

Feelings of guilt flooded my mind because it was easier to blame myself. That, at least, made sense to me. I must have done something wrong. I have done a lot of therapy to work through the guilt I felt and still feel at times.

What I’ve learned is: It was not my fault. I did nothing wrong. Sometimes things in life happen that are unexplainable, cruel, and unfair. No parent should ever have to leave a hospital with a memory box rather than their newborn.

I knew nothing about stillbirth prior to this happening to us. We were completely blindsided; the thought of losing our son so late in pregnancy never occurred to us.

We did an autopsy on Otto and tests on me: Everything came back normal. We were told what happened is “unexplained” and that most stillbirths go unexplained.

Yet, I’ve learned stillbirth happens more than we realize. There is a hidden community of grieving parents; and Dan and I have been connected to many people who have, sadly, walked a similar path.

Stillbirth is a very isolating, lonely experience. It’s such a taboo topic in our society. It’s hard enough for people to talk about grief, but try adding in the loss of “new life” and that it’s “unexplained?”

That’s a recipe for people feeling very uncomfortable. I understand people “don’t know what to say,” but, in my opinion, it’s better to say something than nothing at all.

Fortunately, we have been surrounded by wonderful family members and close friends. You know who you are, and we cannot thank you enough for showing up for us. We are forever grateful for you.

Handling our grief

Everyone handles grief differently. For us, though, connecting with others who have gone through stillbirth is the main thing that has helped us. Some other resources and tools that have helped include:

Talking to a therapist
Long walks and being in nature
Acupuncture, craniosacral therapy, yoga, and massages
Taking breaks from grief to go out to dinner and try to feel somewhat normal
Our family and close friends
Crying
Journaling
Getting away for the holidays
I got off of social media for 5 months
Car rides with good music
Focusing on what we are grateful for
We ended up moving, which was really positive for us
Talking about Otto and saying his name often
Accepting that grief is an emotional roller coaster
Reading Unimaginable by Brooke Taylor

I read a lot of books on grief and pregnancy loss, but the only one that resonated with me was Unimaginable. Brooke and I had so many similarities that I felt compelled to reach out to her.

I found out she teaches at Saint Louis University where Dan and I met. She emailed me back right away, and now we email frequently. Brooke has been such a wonderful, positive outlet for me, and I highly recommend her beautiful book.

You are not alone

If you are reading this and have also gone through stillbirth, please know I am so deeply sorry for your loss. My heart breaks knowing that you are going through such pain.

Know that you are not alone, and I would be humbled to be a listening ear for you. Your sweet baby is part of your family, and I would love to help remember him or her.

Love and loss are universal. We all have loss in our lives because we have experienced the joy of love. I cherish the feeling of holding Otto in my arms, and I am grateful for the many “winks” we have seen from him these past 6 months. We love you, Otto. You are our Valentine.

written with love by: Gretchen Olwig

Resources:

Return to Zero

Other helpful blog posts:

Need someone to talk to? You can schedule a video chat consult with Deema, she is a psychotherapist specializing in perinatal mood disorders. Learn more about Deema’s professional background here.

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**This post is educational and not meant to take the place of your provider.