As we approach the annual event, A Walk To Remember, (learn more here) where we honour the babies we have lost too soon, we’re sharing deeply personal stories from Jillian, Kailyn, and Josy—three brave mothers in our Grotto community who have experienced unimaginable loss. From the heart-wrenching birth story of William Bear Chambers, to Kailyn’s tribute to her “Baby Seahorse” to Josy honouring sweet Arella, these reflections remind us that grief, though incredibly personal, can connect and heal when shared.
Jillian’s Story: William Bear
August 10th 2015 was a Monday. It was the hardest, most confusing, joyful Monday of my life. It was the day we welcomed our twin boys into the world.
I woke up after little to no sleep. (After all, I was 34 weeks pregnant carrying twins.) The phone rings and it’s “Jane” the imaging technician. She lets me know my follow up ultrasound, from Friday’s weekly check up (yes, weekly when you are having 2) is scheduled for this morning.
Little did I know, this was the Monday that was going to change our lives forever.
You see, I had the perfect twin pregnancy. I thought, I just need to make it 2 more weeks. This way our boys, which we didn’t know were boys until after birth, would be big and strong enough to make it on the outside world. At 36 weeks everything is developed. The last 4 weeks are just growing time. And let’s be honest, I don’t know how much more growing my body could take.
My Mom drops me off at the hospital after a busy and very uncomfortable weekend. I sit in the waiting room, responding to work emails, writing to-do lists (such as finishing the nursery and packing a bag for the hospital). I’m texting my sister Morgan, to plan how she can help with the twins. I glance at the women across the waiting area and see she is still early in her pregnancy… Or wait, is it just because I am now the size of a house that she looks tiny?!? My name gets called. I shut off my phone and I follow “Jane”.
I’ve had so many ultrasounds at this point; I make small talk with the technicians. I ask about her kids, her weekend. I ask her “has baby A moved yet from the Frank Breech position?” “Is baby B still stretched out in a transverse position?” I tell her that “Baby B has been so high in my ribs it’s getting harder and harder to breathe and that I am light headed everyday”. I tell her, “I was just here Friday for all my tests but no one was available to do my full ultrasound with Doppler.” I lay there as I slowly get less and less response. She leaves and says she will be right back.
I know at this point I get to see my babies. I write down for Steve how big “baby A” is and how big “Baby B” is.
This time was different. It was taking “Jane” a long time to come back. Everything started to happen in slow motion as the curtain opened.
“Jane” walked in with another person. They asked if anyone was here with me. Then slowly out of the women’s mouth she says
“Baby B doesn’t have a heart beat”.
How is this possible? I was just here! Lets just give my baby a heart beat again. After the c-section is done, you get the paddles out, you shock his heart, and you give him a heart beat. It’s as simple as that.
But, it wasn’t that simple. For no apparent reason we lost baby B. Who’s name became Bear.
WILLIAM BEAR CHAMBERS. He weighed 3lbs 4oz. He would be born 3 minutes after his twin brother Foster. He would have a nose like his Dad’s and more hair than his brother.
From this Monday Forward life would be different. More confusing.
On the second Monday, we would re-live that day. Minute by minute. Recalling everything that happened the week before.
On the third Monday, we would go to the cemetery between Foster’s feedings in the NICU, to pick out a plot/ grave site for ourselves and Bear. Nothing about this seems “normal”.
The fourth Monday, Bear would take his first and only paddle with his Daddy in a canoe. They would canoe to the Tom Patterson Island where a service was held with only immediate family and Very close friends.
A short feeling of relief came over me. For a time I could breathe. I could go about life. I could manage some work tasks. This made me feel good. Until, we hit yet another MONDAY.
A holiday would hit and it would remind me that we should be enjoying this as a family of 5.
Christmas came and we made the best of it. We hung a stocking for Bear. We bought a kite for him so Olive could fly it Christmas day on the Island with him. We would go to the cemetery with my family and release balloons. Acknowledging him, before we continued with the rest of the day.
We did everything we needed to.
WE WERE HEALING.
Our Mondays were getting better. Then BAM Foster got sick. REALLY sick!
This put fear in my heart and mind. He was hospitalized for 3 days and 2 nights.
This set Steve back. It was a flashback of months prior. Walking up to the doors of the Maternity unit where he would meet his pregnant wife with tear filled eyes. Packing me a hospital bag, taking care of Olive on his own. It was too much for him. It was too much of the same.
I felt relief. I could finally breathe. Foster hadn’t been breathing well for days. I hadn’t slept in a week because of Fear.
Sarah, one of our incredible nurses, was there. It brought comfort to me knowing she was the one who took care of us that very first night when the boys were born.
And then something happened. That relief… It changed in the morning. It changed because I had a dream. Sarah opened the door to Foster’s Room and she brought Bear in, just like she did months before. So, when that door opened, and it was a different nurse, and she wasn’t holding our other son. I couldn’t help but feel sad. I felt like months of healing just got set back a little. All because a dream was so real, that I was disappointed it wasn’t.
Foster starts to do better and with that so do we.
Then Family day…The Stat holiday in Canada to celebrate your family. It was going well. We spent most of the day building snowman beside Bear’s Cross. It’s what Olive asked to do. Then as we met up with our families for a swim it hit us.
Olive points out that Pearl, her cousin, has two brothers, Rayden, her other cousin has two brothers. And she has two brothers, but one of her brothers is building a park in Heaven for her.
How did we not see this before?
But, what is it that brings all this up?
Well, ONE…I am laying in bed unable to move for the first time ever because I’ve thrown my back out. But more importantly….
It’s been 34 Mondays OR 34 weeks.
In 34 weeks we grew these incredible babies. We planned, we dreamed, we hoped. We still do those things but it looks different.
So FINALLY, 34 weeks later I finally share photos of Bear, our “Life Changer”.
This little tiny baby boy that has changed our lives forever.
The Above was written 9 years ago to introduce our son William Bear Chambers. Since then we have welcomed another boy to our family Archer Finley West. He is our Rainbow baby and everything you’d expect that to mean. His name Archer for the Arch of a rainbow and West, because my dad always told me “Whenever you are lost, go west, and you’ll find your way home”.
And while grief doesn’t go away, it has shaped how I move through life—how I parent, how I lead, how I show up. It’s given me deeper empathy, perspective, and a stronger drive to give back.
That’s why we’ve created the William Bear page on our website. It’s a space dedicated to honouring Bear through action—whether it’s events like A Walk to Remember (June), A Wave of Light (October), limited-edition merchandise with proceeds going to the Special Care Nursery at the Stratford General Hospital Foundation, or other meaningful ways like a listening ear to a new parent experiencing this heart ache, or volunteer work with Sunny Brooke hospital through the PAIL network. We can create awareness and offer support. It’s how we keep his light alive and hopefully bring light to others walking a similar path.
Kailyn’s Story: Baby Seahorse
After months of trying for our second baby, we were overjoyed to become pregnant in 2019. My husband Michael nicknamed this baby, Baby Seahorse because on the early ultrasound photo, it did indeed, look like a seahorse floating around in my belly. Our daughter who was 2 at the time was so excited to become a big sister.
1 in 4 is a statistic that I did not see coming.
Never did I even consider that something could go wrong with this pregnancy. That only happened to other people, and besides, I barely knew anyone that had had a miscarriage. Or so I thought.
At around 9 weeks pregnant I was told those awful words that no mother would ever want to hear…..”I’m sorry…your baby has no heartbeat…” The shock, and grief took over as I realized I was living my worst nightmare. Yet, somehow I felt I couldn’t be sad. After all, there were other families who had experienced much worse. People that I personally know and loved had lost whole formed babies and children…..surely I could not feel THIS devastated compared to them.
But it was through some of those same people that I was able to lean on and learn that as that famous Dr. Suess story says “a person’s a person no matter how small.”
We had dreamed of the family we would be. How things would change when they were born. How they would fit into our family…and our car and our house and and and…..it was a loss that changes you in many ways, and their life, no matter how brief was important. It mattered.
Today, we continue to honour the life of our Baby Seahorse in various ways celebrating their “birthday” (May 6 – my due date) and taking time as a family to honour and grieve a little more on the day that we learned of the loss, as well as sharing our story in hopes that those that find themselves a part of the “1 in 4” would find hope and healing in their journeys as well.
In sharing, I have found that many people I know have dealt with pregnancy or infant loss, or the devastation of infertility. I was 1 in 4, but I also was very much not alone. We are so grateful to be able to continue to share our story and find healing in doing so.
Josy’s Story: Arella Murray
On January 31st our precious baby girl was born, and peacefully passed on into God’s open arms.
The origin of Arella’s name is Hebrew, and means Angel (God’s messenger).
Our angel.
Our daughter.
Our firstborn.
She has impacted our lives more than we could have ever imagined.
Our time with her is beyond cherished, and forever imprinted on our hearts.
5 months will never feel long enough, but we are blessed by knowing the truth that we will share eternity together.
We love and miss her.
