Carrying Their Light :: Honoring Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month
October is a month filled with falling leaves, cooler air, and the anticipation of holidays ahead. It is also a month of remembrance. In 1988, the President declared October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month — a time to recognize and support families who have endured the heartbreaking loss of a child during pregnancy or infancy. For many, it is a month that offers both comfort and connection, knowing they are not alone in their grief.
More specifically, October 15th is observed as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, marked by the International Wave of Light. At 7 pm local time, families across the globe light candles to remember children gone too soon — a beautiful tribute that unites grieving parents worldwide.
I wasn’t aware of this observance until four years ago, when I unexpectedly experienced the loss of my first child.
As you may have read in a previous blog post, I had a liver transplant eleven years ago and live with chronic kidney disease (CKD) due to my anti-rejection medication. I wasn’t sure if pregnancy was even possible. When I met with Maternal Fetal Medicine, they told me it might be very difficult and that if I wasn’t pregnant within a year, we’d explore infertility options.
To my surprise, I became pregnant within a month. My pregnancy was beautiful — until it wasn’t. Around 13–14 weeks I started spotting. I remember telling my OB, “I will care for this baby as long as God allows me.”
At 17 weeks, everything changed.
During an ultrasound, I saw the ultrasonographer’s face shift. She gently reassured me that my baby’s heart was beating and confirmed he was a boy, but she wanted the doctor to take a closer look.
When the Maternal Fetal doctor entered, she began scanning and slowly explained what she saw: possible spina bifida, a hernia, and additional abnormalities. I immediately responded, “That can be fixed. If I need to do in utero surgery, I’ll do it.” But then she said, “Let’s talk further in another room.”
She recommended I have an emergency ultrasound and appointment with the chief of Maternal Fetal Medicine the following day.
Then I heard words no mother should ever hear: “He is terminal.”
Everything inside me went numb. How could my baby, who I had just seen move, be terminal?
I prayed for healing — and there was healing, just not the kind I expected.
Three days later, at exactly 18 weeks, I went into labor naturally and delivered my son. He was beautiful. He was perfect. He made me a mother.
Over the past four years, I’ve learned two things: Joy and grief can coexist, and it’s okay to not always be okay.
A phenomenal perinatal loss counselor helped me walk this journey, and through it, I’ve connected with countless families who have also experienced loss. One common theme I’ve noticed is that life often becomes divided into before and after the loss. Grief can be isolating, and it can change how you navigate relationships.
This October, I encourage you to hold space for those around you — family, friends, colleagues, even strangers — who have lost a child. On October 15th, join the International Wave of Light and light a candle at 7 pm in remembrance of the families who grieve silently, or not so silently, every day.
If you or someone you know needs support, here are some organizations in our community that offer hope and connection:
- Maddie’s Footprints of Greater Baton Rouge
- Sarah’s Laughter: Christian Support for Infertility and Child Loss
- Baton Rouge Perinatal Counseling
Pregnancy and infant loss is not often talked about openly, yet it touches so many families in ways seen and unseen. My hope in sharing my story is not only to honor my son, but also to remind you that you are not alone if you have walked this path. Your grief matters. Your child matters. And together, as we light our candles, we carry their light forward.
