My own journey to motherhood was anything but simple. Two years into marriage, my husband and I experienced our first loss—an ectopic pregnancy. I had heard about it before, but nothing could prepare me for my own version of this loss. The physical and emotional recovery left me feeling broken, unsure of how to move forward.
​Our journey to parenthood turned into an agonizing struggle. The more we tried to conceive, the more hope seemed to drift further away. Infertility brought its own grief – a silent, isolating sorrow that grew heavier with each passing day. After four years of yearning and countless visits to the fertility clinic, in the instant the second line appeared on the pregnancy test, I felt as though I had surfaced from deep underwater and could finally breathe again. In that singular moment of joy and happiness, it was as if I filled my entire lungs with air.
​In August 2005, our daughter, Rakhi was born—a perfect, long-awaited dream come true. Overwhelmed with gratitude, we decided not to wait before trying again. This time, without the desperation that had weighed on me for years, we conceived effortlessly. Our son was born in November 2006, just 15 months after his sister. Our family was complete, I felt content and happy like never before.
At just two days old, our son, Krishan, passed away. The pain was unlike anything I had ever known. My world came to a standstill while the world around me kept moving. This loss changed everything—our lives, our marriage, and the way I saw myself.​
For a long time, I couldn’t imagine having another baby. I didn’t want another baby. I wanted him back. Grief came in waves—just as I would glimpse a little light, another wave would hit, and I would be lost in the darkness again. I couldn’t see a way forward.​
My husband and I grieved in very different ways. This is why I feel so strongly about individualising my grief coaching service—not just for each couple, but for each parent. Grief is deeply personal. To the outside world, you may seem to be coping, moving through days, weeks, months, and years, but only you know the true weight of your loss. There is no right or wrong way to grieve.​
In April 2008, we welcomed our Rainbow Baby, Aisha. I am blessed to have my two daughters and will forever hold gratitude to the universe for these two amazing baby dolls in my life – One is my heart, the other my heartbeat—they are both at the very core of who I am today.​
Three years later, we found ourselves expecting again, excited to grow our family. At our 12-week scan, we received the devastating news that there was no heartbeat. And just like that, the cycle of grief began once again.​
Every loss changed me. Every moment of grief built my resilience.​
Today, I use my experiences to support others through their own journeys of loss, healing, and hope. Whether you are in the depths of grief, navigating life after loss, or struggling to find joy in pregnancy after loss, I am here to hold space for you.​
You are not alone. Your grief matters. And your journey—wherever you are on it—deserves to be honoured.
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