At 40, I conceived my child naturally—a quiet miracle I never thought possible. Against all odds, life stirred within me, and in that instant, I became a mother.
It was December 25, 2023, when the illusion of control shattered in my hands. On a day meant for joy, I learned that my baby had a chromosomal issue, and his tiny kidneys, so vital and life-giving, would never develop. My heart cracked wide open. I had done everything right, every test, every check-up. And yet, at 20 weeks, the truth unfolded—a truth that no mother is ever prepared to face. The worst Christmas of my life arrived not with snow and lights but with the chilling certainty that my baby’s future was already slipping away.
The doctors spoke of incurability. They told me that even if he survived birth, his life would flicker and fade within a year. My mind understood. My heart, though, it lingered in a place of desperate hope, in a refusal to let go. How could I make peace with a decision no mother should ever have to make?
On January 11, 2024, I gave birth to my son. He entered this world, and just as swiftly, he left it. His life—a single, fragile breath in time. I held him, but I would never hear his cry. I would never see his first smile. During my stay in the hospital, the cries of other babies, the joyful murmurs of new mothers, echoed through the halls. I hid behind the curtain, quietly cradling the absence that was my son. I had borne the pain of bringing him into this world, but where was he? The emptiness that filled my arms was a sorrow that words cannot contain.
The universe remained silent, indifferent to my grief. And in the stillness, I found my answer—or rather, I let go of the need for one. Life doesn’t always offer explanations, it doesn’t always teach. Sometimes life is just life. There is no lesson hidden in the pain, no cosmic meaning to unravel. My son’s time was brief, a fleeting moment in the vastness of existence, and there was nothing more to be understood. He came, he left, and in that space, I learned to surrender—to let go of the need to fix, to control, to find reason where there is none.
His life was short, but I was still his mother. And I always will be. In the rhythm of nature, there is no good or bad, no fairness or cruelty. There is simply life, and there is love.
Throughout this journey, I found peace in Reiki, a deep, quiet solace that held me from the first moment I knew. The calm it brought was like a soft hand on my heart, reminding me that, no matter what, there was still peace within me.
Pregnancy is a deeply personal experience—no two stories are the same. It’s a sacred time, a metamorphosis that challenges us on every level. Our bodies shift, our emotions rise and fall, and our lives transform in ways we can never fully prepare for. Yet despite the challenges, my sweet baby brought me nothing but serenity. No nausea, no discomfort, just the steady rhythm of life quietly growing within me. I want to dedicate this to him, my calm and peaceful child, whose spirit I believe still moves through the world, surrounding me with love and grace. His ashes now rest in a shrine near Akashi, Japan, where his gentle soul remains close to my heart.
After losing my precious baby boy, my partner and I knew in our hearts that we still dreamed of building our family. When I consulted my doctor, he recommended IVF treatments, taking my age into consideration. The journey was intense - countless check-ups, hormone injections, and various medications became part of my daily life. Through it all, we were blessed with several healthy eggs for the treatment.
The universe seemed to smile upon us when I became pregnant on our first attempt. Everything felt perfect, and tears of joy flowed freely when I heard that precious heartbeat. But fate had other plans. Around week 8, though I didn't know it then, my baby's heart had stopped beating. It was a missed miscarriage - silent and without warning. No pain, no bleeding - nothing to signal that my little one had slipped away. The truth only emerged during my routine check-up at week 9. Leaving the clinic that day, shattered and in shock, I felt the weight of loss crushing me once again.
For those walking this difficult path - in whatever form your loss has taken - please know you are not alone. Whether you're seeking inner peace, a quiet moment to breathe, or simply a companion for this journey, I'm here to offer my hand. Reiki became my sanctuary in my darkest moments, bringing calm when I needed it most. It would be my honour to share this healing practice with you.
