Welcoming a Baby After Your First Died

A reflection during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month on welcoming our second baby, and first baby at home 

Sensitivity warning: this article discusses infant loss and grief experiences

She’s here! We have a baby at home. She’s very cute and funny, and it’s amazing to be her parents. We affectionately call her the Boss or Baby Potato. Sometimes Little Potato. Sometimes just ma petite fille. 

It’s been a wild ride learning how to care for a newborn. We have all the normal adventures and anxieties that parents do. 

But because we have already lost one daughter, after an unexpected early pre term birth, keeping this one breathing is all I can think about. 

In this article, I will share some of my experiences of what it’s like to have a baby after your first baby died. I write it for other loss families.

This is my first time publishing about this experience on my website, rather than simply social media. It is a professional risk but one I am willing to take. 

Fielding Comments and Questions from Others 

I hold her so frequently (or wear her) that my body aches from the strain. It is hard on my curved spine and hypermobile body. She sleeps right next to me, where I can hear that she is still breathing. Sometimes people make comments that she is getting spoiled by spending so much time in my arms, implying that it is not the right place for her to be. These arms that have seen a last breath? That have seen death? They will be holding life for as long as possible (and I do put her down sometimes, or someone else holds her!) 

People ask me if this is my first baby. What a loaded question. And an odd one to ask. Presumably, if I had more, you would see them… but, I digress. I know that the people are well intentioned and just don’t know what else to say. Saying “No, my first baby died” is what I want to say, but I know not many people would handle that well, so I usually just say “First one at home”, so that I’m not being dishonest or erasing my first daughter but not saying much more. My perinatal loss support group helped me figure that one out. People don’t tend to really listen anyway or ask follow ups, so it works fine. 

People ask me what it’s like now joining motherhood. They forget that I became a mother two years ago. Of course that question hurts and feels like an erasure of my experience.  I already started the process of matrescence. I became a mother and a bereaved mother on the same day. My experience of motherhood is unlike most, because it has been filled with grief and emptiness instead of joy and changes. 

Holding Stories from others 

In the past two years, I have heard so many horrific stories of miscarriage, infant loss, stilborn, and TMFR. People would tell me these heavy stories without asking if I wanted to hear it. Sometimes they do ask, and I felt obligated to say yes, because we both belonged to this club we did not sign up for. 

My heart hurts from these stories, and I also shake with rage, because so many of them were preventable or related to under-researched conditions. I thought about those babies a lot during my pregnancy, and now while holding my baby. 

Reliving Grief While Pregnant

We also learned during this pregnancy that the pre-term labour that led to our first daughter dying was preventable. It was caused by a condition I have and was treatable. Naturally, that meant that we were grieving our first daughter all over again in a new way, because we found out that she died unnecessarily, and from medical neglect.

I was furious that the things I had asked about in pregnancy were ignored. I was also furious that the many professionals we asked would not investigate our baby’s death. We asked them so many questions and were turned down. It wasn’t until I was pregnant again that they cared to look, and it ended up being one of the things I asked about. The weight of contacting doctors, filing complaints, and participating in investigations was another difficult part of our grief story. 

Having a Baby that Lives

Now we walk into spaces with a baby that lived. It’s incredible how kind people are when you have a baby with you. All sorts of people in our life want to celebrate her and shower her with gifts. She is so lucky! 

At the same time, I recall that these same people did not reach out to us when we lost our first, check on us much or at all, visit her grave, or donate to the perinatal loss group that supported us (Empty Arms). We received so many cards and comments that make it seem like this is our first pregnancy and baby. Even though I have stated many times that my baby arrived early and died, people still think that it was an early internal miscarriage. I try not to feel resentment about all of that, but it does still hurt. 

I understand that our dominant culture is far removed from death and dying rituals and care. So when people say or do insensitive things, it’s not because they don’t love my family, it’s because they were not trained how to love through grief as well. In fact, it’s a good thing that they don’t understand this level of loss. I have to constantly remind myself of this. The people who support us well tend to be those who have gone through big losses themselves.

All of these things have been exhausting, on top of regular exhaustion from caring for a newborn. I wish we didn’t have to deal with added layers of exhaustion. 

This Baby was A Long Time Coming

We have been wanting to have a baby since 2022. In 2021, we were newly married and then I got sick with Long COVID. My recovery (once I found appropriate tools) was slow and steady, but my doctor advised against having a baby for fear it would trigger a relapse of ME/CFS. In 2023, we got the greenlight to try for a baby. In May 2024, I became pregnant, and by the fall, she was gone. I got pregnant again in the fall of 2025, and had a baby in summer 2026. We have been waiting for four years for this baby and she is here! She is truly a rainbow blessing.

It was hard being in the hospital where we experienced our loss. But the medical professionals were so sensitive about our loss during our pregnancy and delivery. It was clear they had training and experience on how to navigate these situations!

Caring for a New Baby

I play with our new baby, and her laugh makes me laugh. Her smile is infectious. Yet, I always feel a dark spot of pain in my heart. When I walk around holding her, it constantly feels like there is something missing. It feels like there should be another little one at my feet begging to be held, too. I tell myself that I am already holding her, and always will. My chest aches for her, and at the same time, she comforts me, as I know her spirit is watching out for her family. Though my second daughter will never meet her older sister, she will still get to know her. 

Somehow, I believe (or have to believe) that having gone through all that I have makes me a better parent and professional. I was bedbound with chronic illness and didn’t know if I would get better, return to work, or have a family. I survived. I thrived. 

I lost a baby in the same year as quitting my job, running a new business, teaching my new course at the law school, a close friend going to prison, and a family member going though chemo. I survived. I managed to get pregnant again and navigate a high-risk pregnancy. We survived. 

We have had so many significant teachings that I have to believe we are stronger for it. What I learned in recovering from chronic illness has helped me immeasurably in navigating grief and motherhood.They say the grief never leaves your heart, but you learn to live and grow around it. 

We attended the annual Empty Arms peri-natal loss walk again this year, with our baby. There were a lot of complicated feelings, but it wasn’t as painful. 

We are so grateful to have our baby with us. All her milestones are so precious.

In many ways, I am doing more than surviving. But some days that is enough unto itself!

Perhaps I will share more on surviving and thriving in my next article. Let me know if you want to hear more! Share this with other loss families. I did not write this for condolences, but to support other bereaved families navigating grief and other children. Please take care with sharing your stories of loss. xo

Thanks for reading! I'm Alanna Carlson, a Saskatchewan-based lawyer, consultant, educator and investigator who does workplace assessments, investigations, trainings, and neuro-inclusive professional coaching. I teach professional courses on trauma-responsive practice. I also design helpful wellbeing resources that I used to recover from chronic illness; check them out here! I’m not taking on any new clients for the time being, though I continue to work part-time on my current files.