So many emotions through this TFMR decision.

[Cobmans]

My wife and I, at 44 and 45, already had our hands full with two wonderful daughters, aged 13 and 15. We'd even joked about finally getting our lives back as they grew more independent—no more diapers or sleepless nights. We weren't trying for another child, so when we discovered she was pregnant, it hit us like a bolt from the blue. That first night, I lay awake, my mind swirling with shock, uncertainty, and a mix of emotions I couldn't quite pin down.

As the weeks passed, though, the initial surprise gave way to genuine joy and excitement. The idea of welcoming a new family member started to feel right, like an unexpected gift. Over Christmas, we held a small gender reveal with our girls, and the pink confetti announced we were expecting another daughter. With two girls already, I chuckled to myself—okay, here we go again.

But just a week later, everything changed during the 20-week scan. The ultrasound revealed severely enlarged ventricles in the baby's brain, a condition called ventriculomegaly. We were quickly referred to a fetal medicine clinic for a more detailed assessment. There, another scan showed some improvement—the ventriculomegaly had eased to moderate levels—but we also got a surprise: our "girl" was actually a boy! Amid the mix-up, the consultant recommended an MRI to get a clearer picture.

Three anxious days later, we returned for the results. The news was devastating: our son had suffered a stroke, likely from a blood clot, along with an infarct in the rear of his brain. The consultants and neurologist explained that this would almost certainly lead to severe disabilities, profoundly affecting his quality of life. My wife and I were shattered, but after heartbreaking discussions, we decided that the kindest choice for our boy was to end the pregnancy at 23 weeks.

Today, my wife gave birth to him, and the grief is overwhelming. I wasn't sure if I could bear to hold him or even look at him beforehand, but I'm so glad I did. In that moment, he was our son, perfect in his own way, and saying goodbye felt both impossible and necessary. This loss has broken us, but we'll hold onto the love we felt for him, brief as it was.

I'm now laying in bed unable to sleep just thinking of what could / should of been.

What you are going through at this moment is awful. It happened to me, 23 weeks in. The physical after-signs are not great (breast milk etc.) and I ended up with a transfusion after the D&C. Whereas you will get plenty that say things that are well meaning, even logical, you do not want to hear them. You never get over it really, and you wonder why it has happened to you. Things do get better with time, and the first year is the hardest. You can do very little but hang on I'm afraid. My son was my first, I was 30. I went on to have others, but he is not forgotten. We did not have a burial etc (just too much more sadness and grief) and he was cremated at the hospital. They have an inscription for him in the hospital chapel book. Every day they turn the page. Every year we go. The first years were dreadful. For a long time he was the only one that was listed, but eventually, others joined him, and I don't know why but I was comforted by this. It is still so sad, but the passage of time has helped a lot. xxx

Hey, just wanted to say how sorry I am. I know exactly where you're at in terms of age and life stage. Like you we have teens, surprise pregnancy that ended yesterday. It's such an emotional rollercoaster. It's been hard enough doing it at 12 weeks. I can't imagine how you are both feeling having got past that stage.