Entering the Third Trimester After Years of Loss

I never thought I’d write these words.

I am in my third trimester.

After years of failed IVF cycles, miscarriages, and heartbreak so gut-wrenching it left me gasping for air, I am finally here — pregnant with our miracle baby girl.

For those of you who have been following our journey, you know the road has been anything but easy. My husband and I have been together for ten years — ten years of love, sacrifice, and endurance. He started his career in cost analysis, but after a year of dating, he made the life-altering decision to go back to school for medicine.

Now, he’s in the thick of his neurosurgery residency, and through every sleepless night, every grueling shift, every moment of questioning if we could keep going, we have held onto each other.

And yet, no amount of strength prepared me for the devastation that was January 2024.

We lost our baby girl. Right before our wedding.

We lost her in a way so cruel, so senseless, that I still wake up replaying it. A German Shepherd attacked me while I was training our new puppy. In one instant, my body — the one I had spent years injecting, medicating, and willing to sustain life — became a battleground, and we lost.

If that wasn’t enough, I also lost my soul dog.

The dog that had been by my side for 17 years. The one who saw me through every heartbreak, every late-night cry, every uncertain step into adulthood. The one who was there when no one else was.

2024 was supposed to be the most beautiful year of our lives. Instead, it started off feeling like a cruel joke. I was in a new place, far from familiarity, drowning in grief, unsure of how to move forward.

So I stopped. I stopped IVF.

I stopped trying, stopped hoping, and decided that at the very least, I needed to focus on our wedding — a day we had planned for over two years.

And then… the impossible happened.

I got pregnant.

Naturally.

You’d think that moment would have been filled with nothing but joy, but the truth?

It was terrifying.

Because after so much loss, hope feels dangerous. And when I stood there on my wedding day, smiling, celebrating, dancing — I was also bracing. Bracing for what felt inevitable.

But now, I am here.

The third trimester.

The home stretch.

And yet, the fear hasn’t left me.

I don’t think it ever will.

I’ve realized that pregnancy after loss isn’t just about getting through the first trimester, or feeling relief after the anatomy scan. It’s an unrelenting, breath-holding, prayer-whispering kind of love that doesn’t stop.

I worry about delivery.
I worry about her health.
I worry about bringing her home, about every little thing that could happen to her.

But here’s what I also know: I want this worry.

Because I want her.

I want the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the overwhelming love that consumes me the moment I see her face. I want to be her mom more than I have ever wanted anything in this life.

And to those of you who have followed this journey, who have held space for our pain, who have cheered us on — I cannot thank you enough. Your words, your kindness, and your unwavering belief in our story have meant everything.

If you would like to support us in any way as we prepare for our baby girl, we would be beyond grateful. Truly, we couldn’t appreciate it more.

Because after everything, this is the privilege of my life.

And I just pray I get to keep it.

Amazon List: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/FP3YL7CZ7HMX?ref_=wl_share
Venmo: Donate Here

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Hi, I’m Fiona, a writer going through an unexpected chapter in life.

I lost my job in April 2024, and my husband and I have been getting by on his small medical residency income. After stepping away from IVF, we were surprised and overjoyed to find ourselves pregnant, but it’s added financial stress as we prepare for this new journey.

Writing is my way of contributing to our family while covering essentials like groceries, bills and maybe items for our 🌈 miracle baby.

If you’d like to support us, your kindness would mean the world — every little bit helps. $1, $2…Anything is appreciated. Donate here (Venmo).

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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