Today marks three months. Three months after I became a mother to a beautiful little girl. Tille is her name and the day she came into our lives is the day we had to say goodbye. These words are hard to write even on this day knowing I can never hold her in my arms again. But since almost everyone close to us already have forgotten and went on with their lives like nothing happened, I wanted to wright down our story.

After a miscarriage at the end of 2017 and a rough couple of months after, I was more then beyond happy when there was new life growing inside of me.  I felt more then great, no morning sickness or any other pregnancy ailments. There was a strong heartbeat, so much movement with each routine check and everything went perfect as should. A perfect pregnancy.

Untill the beginning of this year... While wiping of the gel from the ultrasound the gynecologist urged me to lay down again, wanted to check something. There was a hemangioma (a kind of blood vessel tumor) attached on the placenta. It was small and I had absolutely nothing to be worried about. It would go away she said, but it didn't. And with each check up, our fear got bigger and bigger.

Days, weeks and months passed by and I couldn't get the thoughts out of my head that something could go wrong. I was living towards that one day of the month that I had my ultrasound and looked forward seeing her. But as my belly grew bigger and time passed, I saw her less and less and fear grew more and more. With each echo all the attention went to that thing growing besides her and I was always getting hushed at the end of each appointment that I really had nothing to worry about.

I know and felled she did so well. Strong kicks in my belly when I talked to her and lot's of spinning that made me laugh so hard.

But at 30 weeks everything turned into chaos. Suddenly there was fear from the doctors who send me from one to the other. I got tired from running around hoping for somebody to give me good news.
We had to hear that they where probably going to induce labor but wanted to wait as long as they could so she would be strong enough and I should go to one more doctor just to be sure. He was the one that gave that thing a name because untill now, nobody knew what it was.
Chorangioma, a very rare placental tumor. Even if it is rare on it's own (1%), the one I had was never seen before. Cases like this only happens by 1 out of 50 000 we read later on the internet and there is very less knew about it. We got told again that there was absolutely no reason for fear and that we where overreacting. There is a strong heartbeat, she's doing well and with a bit of luck I could cary her full term.

We went home with tears in our eyes from relief, repeating over and over that everything is fine. We could finally breath again and that day we set up here crib looking forward meeting this precious little girl.

Exactly one week later. I woke up and the kicks that greeted me each morning weren't there. Full panic mode, a short phone call, almost running in the streets to get as quickly as I could to the doctor.

Cold gel on my round belly, no heartbeat and the soft words 'I'm sorry'. Everything went quiet and my head was spinning. I didn't want to believe that what scared me for many months did happened.
I was explained that in a couple of days I was expected at the hospital where they would induce labor and I could give birth to her.

Those days in between felt unreal. Going to sleep, waking up and walking around with her in my womb but knowing she's no longer there. I was so afraid of giving birth and wanted a c-section under anesthesia, which is something they would only allow if necessary. This felt brutal and inhumane.

But in the hospital we where surrounded by the most incredible, gentle, strong midwife's. They helped me give birth to my baby girl and made this all in some way a beautiful experience and I can't thank them enough.

In all these days of fear and pain it brought a little bit of joy in my heart seeing and holding her for the first time. Seeing her daddy with her. Seeing her cute little nose, long curly lashes, so many dark hairs, little fingers and toes. She was complete and perfect.

Oh how I wish I could have lived in this moment forever. But instead you leave the hospital alone, with an empty belly to an empty house with a crib filled with so much pain and sadness.
There is only a massive void that feels like it would never ever go away.  Waking up some nights with the feeling you need to check upon her and make sure that everything is right. Realizing that it can't be and you get hit yet again with that sharp pain in your chest.

In the end we don't know what happened and we will probably never get answers. Chances are little that it could happen again although I don't believe in that anymore. 'What are the chances?' They are always there.

And even though we are hopeful for the future, try to walk around with our heads up and try to catch up with everyone else. We still have a long long way to go.


  1. O Karolien, ik denk zo vaak aan jullie. Wat is dit verdrietig om dit te lezen, maar wat is het prachtig - ik zie jullie zo voor me en jou met je grote buik en vast een nog grotere glimlach elke keer dat je haar voelde. Wat was ik graag bij jullie langs gekomen en wat had ik haar graag ontmoet, groot zien worden. Het maakt me blij dat je dit hebt kunnen opschrijven, wat moet het moeilijk zijn geweest - en het maakt me blij soms weer een foto te zien. Maar echt, voel je niet verplicht. Neem je tijd. Doe wat jij wil doen. Iedereen gaat inderdaad door, maar tegelijkertijd sta ik - en zeker veel meer mensen die om jullie geven - regelmatig ook even met jullie stil. Tot snel, hoop ik <3

  2. i am so, so very sorry for everything you had to go through and wish you all the best for your way - sending all my love!

  3. This story.. I can almost feel your pain. I can almost see that little cute face, her tiny fingers and toes. You will forever carry her in your heart because you are her mother. Sending you warm thoughts and strength to carry this with you. Sleep tight tiny Tille.

  4. Thank you for sharing this, I'm so sorry to read your awful experience. I really really hope you get a second chance for a baby, and that things will work out and make this experience more bearable. My mother had a baby that died and she said the only thing that really helped was having another baby. Not that it erases the baby that died but it makes the pain more bearable. Hugs and thoughts!

  5. Made me cry again. I am thinking of you often!

  6. I don't know you, but I came here after seeing your beautiful lovage sweater on Ravelry and just want to wish yoou peace and strength. Your writing about your beautiful girl moved me very much.

  7. Heel fijn dat je het deelt. In alles voel ik jullie grote liefde. Prachtige liefdevolle breiwerken. Blij dat je ze hebt afgemaakt. Heel veel sterkte. Liefs Sjoukje


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