Chrissy Teigen and John Legend recently lost their third baby, Jack, when Teigen delivered him at 20 weeks following pregnancy complications. In the midst of this complete and utter heartbreak, she decided to use the couple’s tragedy as a chance to speak out and to stand up not only for herself, but for the thousands of other grieving mothers who have stood, are standing, and will stand in her shoes.
This week, Teigen opened up about the experience in a deeply personal essay shared on Medium.
Something she said in her piece really stuck out to me: she said she had asked her husband and mother to take pictures of the birth of the baby she would never get to take home, no matter how much it hurt for them.
Chrissy wrote, “I knew I needed to know of this moment forever, the same way I needed to remember us kissing at the end of the aisle, the same way I needed to remember our tears of joy after Luna and Miles. And I absolutely knew I needed to share this story.”
Isn’t that something? In her darkest moment, she needed to remember.
She knew that the pictures mattered.
She knew that no matter how hard it would be, she needed something to hold on to, even from the pits of her own personal hell. She knew that other people would benefit from knowing they weren’t alone while they stood in the midst of theirs.
Teigen received some backlash for posting emotional photos of the loss, something she addressed directly in her essay:
I cannot express how little I care that you hate the photos. How little I care that it’s something you wouldn’t have done. I lived it, I chose to do it, and more than anything, these photos aren’t for anyone but the people who have lived this or are curious enough to wonder what something like this is like. These photos are only for the people who need them. The thoughts of others do not matter to me.
Anyone who has ever lost a child, no matter what point in their life, knows that the pain from that is something that never heals. Due dates, birthdays, what-ifs, and should-haves haunt you for the rest of forever, always wondering why what could have been never happened.
Chrissy knew that no matter how small he was, Jack mattered.
I still have pictures of the pregnancy tests from the baby I never got to meet. The baby that I never even got to see all fuzzy in black and white on a screen in a doctor’s office. The baby I never got to hear a heartbeat from, but I still have the pictures to remember him or her by.
The pictures matter.
The memories matter.
Your baby matters.
One in four women experiences the sometimes silent grief of pregnancy loss. We love this beautiful devotional from author Sarah Philpott for the gentle care it offers a mother’s hurting heart. Loved Baby offers much-needed support to women navigating psychological and physiological grief following the loss of an unborn child through miscarriage, stillbirth, or ectopic pregnancy loss.