Welcome to Himmat Collective, a place for the Punjabi Community to share their story around fertility and loss. We believe that everyone's journey is different, but we can all connect somehow.
Our blog today is from a mother, who would have done anything to take the pain away from her daughter during her loss at 5 months pregnant.
I remember the exact moment my entire world changed. It was all in a matter of minutes with one call from my daughter Kirren, telling me “my daughter is gone”. 4 words that shattered my heart and then the phone cut off.
I stood unable to speak or move, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably, then I quickly came back to reality and realised where I was. I was at work, so I felt I had no choice but to get a hold of myself. I calmly walked to the toilets, washed my face and asked if I could leave work. Luckily, I had understanding colleagues who of course, told me I could go.
I walked so quickly that my head started spinning. All I could keep thinking was what did I just hear, no, it can't be. I met my sons outside. Thankfully, we all worked in the same area and we all walked silently to the car with tear stained faces. I quietly asked which hospital and was met with the answer “Good Hope”. As I looked away, my son reminded me that we needed to be strong for Kirren and Manraj.
I have been strong all my life but today I just wanted to be me. I wanted to let myself grieve for my granddaughter, but deep down I knew I had to be Kirren and Manraj’s strength. They needed me and as a Mother, I had to be there for them.
When we arrived at the hospital, we began to walk down the long corridor. It felt like the longest walk of our lives. We knocked on the door and walked into Kirrens room. Immediately I saw Kirren and hugged her so tight. We both began to cry but all of a sudden we composed ourselves. It was almost as if my granddaughter Keerat was telling us to be strong.
Kirren started to tell me what happened, and my heart broke into millions of tiny pieces. I felt every inch of me, all aching at the same time, for both my daughter and granddaughter. Seeing someone you love in so much pain is immensely hard, and it's even harder knowing that there is nothing you can do to take the pain away. You just feel so helpless.
In the cot beside Kirren, lay my beautiful granddaughter, tall and peacefully sleeping. I had never witnessed anything like this but all I could think was that she looked like she was asleep. The phrase born sleeping was exactly how my darling Keerat Kaur looked.
As soon as we had found out about Keerat, I had imagined Christmas with her, all I could picture was buying loads of gifts! I imagined her walking in and being amazed by the Christmas tree, her eyes lighting up while we watched the reflection of the twinkling lights in her eyes, and her chubby cheeks forming into a beaming smile. I thought of all the books we were going to read together, all the things I could teach her, and all the nights we would spend stargazing together. Those were going to be our things, between Nani and Keerat, but now everything had changed.
The reality was, my daughter had lost her daughter. Her first born. The little angel that made her a Mum.
Kirren told me I could hold her, and told me her name was Keerat. Keerat means the “One who sings glories of God”. Kirren knew she was having a little girl and always said she would name her little girl Keerat.
This tiny little baby was my Granddaughter, and she looked so perfect in every way, laying sleeping in her cot. I picked her up and held her close. At that moment, I thanked Waheguru, for making me a Nanni, and I had faith that Waheguru would take care of her. I had no other choice but to believe and put my faith in the One Creator. I will never forget her tiny little face and how my body trembled in disbelief that this was our reality.
These thoughts were quickly interrupted and broken as I needed to let family know what had happened so I gently put Keerat down. I really felt like I didn't want to leave but I had to, I had to be strong and be the barrier between family and Kirren whilst they came to terms with what had happened because that was all I could do at this point. I walked outside to call our friends and family. Before I dialled their number, I thought to myself what should I say, I had never experienced something like this before so what words was I even supposed to use? I pulled myself together and made the first call. On the other side of the call was a loud and heartbreaking “No, don't say that” and the questions of “why” before the phone went down.. Some people said "these things happen" and some said “don't worry. She will have another one". I didn't want to hear any of this, it wasn't the right time, I just wanted someone to say everything will be okay.
Relatives and friends were coming back and forth to the hospital all day and I realised I was the person who had to check if everyone else was okay and to make sure they had all the details for what was next. I didn't want to do any of it, but I had to for Kirren, as I knew it would help her at this moment and the only thing I could save her from was the questions. I felt like I didn't really speak or see my daughter on the first day, they were trying to sort out what to do next and how to give Keerat the perfect send off for her journey back to Waheguru.
We went home that night and we spoke briefly before I went upstairs to bed. I sat up and couldn't get my head around what was happening, it just didn't feel real and I had so many questions but nothing made sense. I was empty, my feelings had gone, I just felt numb. Kirren texted me asking for my support organising the funeral. I think she had gone into autopilot and was passing me the information she was given. We went to Kirrens house and set up the house so relatives and friends could come and pay their respects. I felt like I was on autopilot too. Me and my two sisters Paula and Jasbir, my sons and nephews sorted out the house along with Manraj’s family. People came and went then was the day to say goodbye.
I remember that lots of things were said about what was going to happen but you just can't imagine it. It didn't feel real talking about what we were going to do to give Keerat her sent off, until we could hear the horse and carriage come up the road. It just felt so surreal seeing the wreaths we had all bought for her, saying daughter, granddaughter, niece etc.
The moment came to say goodbye and her tiny little white coffin came into the house I stood next to Kirren and tried so hard to comfort her, but she was lost in her own anguish and grief. To see Kirren hurting and not being able to do anything to fix it for her was the worst pain I have ever experienced. As her Mother, my heart felt like it broke down and stopped, so I just couldn't imagine what she was going through.
The day was difficult and to say goodbye was utterly heartbreaking. We didn't even get a chance to know Keerat, or learn about her personality before she was taken from us. We weren’t given any time with her and that was the hardest thing. Kirren stayed quiet, reserved and almost as if she retreated into herself. There was no talking, no conversation, just quiet sobbing .
My little star had gone and the days after there was still no conversation. I don't know how to still feel and how to mend my heart from losing Keerat, but I just know this is and still is the worst imaginable pain I have ever experienced. Through our loss, the hardest line to hear is that other people go through loss and so we can go through loss but this is something I completely disagree with. I believe we all experience grief in different ways and deal with our grief differently. Most importantly, for anyone going through grief, we are not alone and it's okay to talk about your feelings.
For the women that go through this, it's not your fault. Keep talking about your babies that came into your life because they are so special. My angel came into our lives and she is still in our lives.
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