In the fall of 2017, Jenna King, a critical care nurse and mom of one young son (Charlie), discovered she was expecting. The family, understandably, was thrilled.
Thinking she’d surprise her husband with a gender reveal on his birthday, Jenna asked for a genetic test at her 13-week ultrasound. That decision changed everything. She soon got a call that brought her to her knees: her baby, a daughter they would name Evelynn Renee, had Trisomy 13. That diagnosis, the doctor told them, was “incompatible with life.”
They were told their daughter probably would not make it to term. If she did, she would likely suffer brain-structure problems, which can affect the baby’s facial development. A baby with trisomy 13 may have eyes set close together and an underdeveloped nose or nostrils and cleft lip or palate. Most do not survive more than a few weeks.
Jenna documented her emotional experience over the next few months at evelynnsbasket.com, a blog she created to honor the memory of her daughter. Over the next few months, instead of happily preparing a nursery and buying sweet baby clothes, Jenna and Dalton dragged themselves through the days, continuing to go to work and parent Charlie, explaining to him that “his baby is sick.” The foundation of faith Jenna relies on gave her strength to keep going, even as she worried the daughter growing inside would stop her butterfly kicks and tumbles.
Although she carried Evelynn almost to term, the time came when Jenna and Dalton had to deliver and say goodbye to their daughter all in the same day. She was 5 lb, 7 oz. It was devastating.
One in four women experience miscarriage (pregnancy loss before 20 weeks). Some estimates push that number much higher if you count the number of pregnancies that spontaneously miscarry before a woman even knows she’s expecting. About one percent of women experience stillbirth (pregnancy loss after 20 weeks); that’s about 24,000/yr in the US.
Although the experience is common, it is much more rare for women to talk about it. Many, including Jenna, experience a sense of shame and guilt, believing somehow they were in some way at fault. The language itself can be damning: LOSING a child, MIScarrying a baby. Who, but the mother, the words imply, did the losing? Women often carry depression and anger, wondering why they weren’t able to accomplish something women have been doing for centuries. All of these feelings are compounded by the grief of not being able to watch their baby grow up.
Pregnancy loss is silent. Losing a child is one of the most traumatic experiences a person can imagine. Losing a pregnancy, on the other hand, is often met with the equivalent of a shrug. You can just try again. At least you already have a child. At least your baby didn’t have to suffer. Well-meaning words that seem to rub salt in the wound.
There’s often not a ceremony or memorial for pregnancy loss. It’s hard for those who have not experienced it to know the depth of grief that can come with losing an entire future with someone you already love deeply–but whom you haven’t met yet.
Where does the basket come in? One of Jenna’s greatest regrets after spending her last moments with her daughter was that the people who came to take her body from them brought for that purpose a hot pink designer purse. At least that’s how it’s etched into Jenna’s memory. Bound and determined that other families would not have to experience such a stark contrast to their darkest moment, Jenna sought out what she calls “Moses baskets,” which she believes is a much more dignified and appropriate vessel for lost babies to be carried from their parents in. She delivers these to funeral homes and hospital rooms with the baby’s name on the basket so parents can have a more comforting final image of their child. In this way, she’s made some beauty from her ashes.
Jenna and Dalton, like many couples who grieve lost children, also had to navigate the jagged territory of grieving differently within a marriage. For Jenna, she’d already formed a cellular bond with Evelynn, felt her move and carried her beneath her ribs for months. Dalton had been involved from the start and, because of the pregnancy’s high risk, was able to see multiple ultrasound images. But in many ways, the two grieved separately. Each person moves through grief at his/her own pace. Jenna describes Dalton as “getting busy,” attacking home improvement projects like never before. She, on the other hand, read books, went to work, and met with a group of other women she’d found who’d experienced this loss.
While, in time, each of them managed to move forward with life, she would say neither has truly “moved on,” in the sense that they will always love Evelynn Renee, celebrate her birthday, and think of themselves as a family of five.
Yes, that math is correct. Unexpectedly, in the fall of 2018, Jenna became pregnant again. They’re now raising their rainbow child, Teddy, alongside Charlie. Jenna and Dalton’s example of faith has been an inspiration and demonstration of being carried by grace. Of course they experienced rock bottoms of despair and grief, exhaustion, and the misery of post-partum hormones with empty arms giving small comfort. And yet. They were able to cling to God’ s abiding love, know that His heart ached alongside theirs, and gather strength from His promises.
If you or someone you know has experienced some form of pregnancy loss, counseling can help. You will likely be surprised if you speak up. Many, many women around you will know exactly how you feel. The following books were also helpful to Jenna:
Grieving the Child I Never Knew