Parthavi shares how her first baby had Fetal Growth Restriction (FGL) and was born at 27 weeks weighing 1kg. For seven days her little warrior fought with incredible strength before she and her partner were told there was nothing more medicine could do and asked to let their baby go peacefully. After the loss, Parthavi was diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder that may have contributed to pregnancy complications. When she conceived again her pregnancy was filled with fear rather than excitement. During this journey, she also experienced the heartbreak of losing one of her twins, a reminder that grief and hope can exist side by side. After years of loss, fear and resilience, Parthavi finally held her rainbow baby in my arms. The moment didn’t erase her grief, because love doesn’t replace love, and her babies who are no longer here remain part of Parthavi’s story, just as her rainbow baby is. 

Please be aware that Parthavi has chosen to share a picture of her baby in hospital and of herself having injections with her story.

People see me holding my rainbow baby today, but they don't see the journey that brought me here. 

I became a first-time mother during COVID, navigating pregnancy without the comfort of family by my side. Like every expectant mother, I dreamed of bringing home a healthy baby. Instead, I was introduced to a term I had never heard before—Fetal Growth Restriction (FGR). 

At just 27 weeks, I underwent an emergency C-section to deliver my tiny 1 kg baby. Walking into the NICU for the first time, I was overwhelmed by fear, guilt, and shame. I believed my body had failed the one person it was meant to protect. I kept wondering what I had done wrong. 

For seven days, my little warrior fought with incredible strength. Then came the conversation no parent should ever have. We were told there was nothing more medicine could do and were asked to let our baby go peacefully. Holding my child for the last time, I wished I could have given them my own heartbeat, my own life. Instead, I watched my child take their final breath (I was given a choice as a mother to keep holding my baby until the last breath and sign papers to let authorities turn off the ventilator after, something I never wanted to do!) 

Seven days! That's all I got with the baby I had dreamed about, protected, and loved for seven beautiful months. 

The day we buried our child, I wasn't burying memories. I was burying a part of my own heart. 

After the loss, I was diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder that may have contributed to pregnancy complications. The grief was crushing, made even harder by questions, speculation, and hurtful comments from people around me. Therapy became my lifeline. It didn't erase my pain, but it helped me learn how to live alongside it. 

My doctors advised me to lose weight and try to conceive again within six months because of my medical history. Every month brought ovulation scans, blood tests, and endless waiting. When I finally conceived again, pregnancy was filled with fear rather than excitement. 

From day one until 32 weeks, I took daily heparin injections, leaving bruises across my body but offering hope that this pregnancy would be different. I also received magnesium sulphate injections that burned intensely almost like I was set on fire, while every scan brought the same terrifying question: Would my body let my baby down again? 

During this journey, I also experienced the heartbreak of losing one of my twins—a reminder that grief and hope can exist side by side. 

Then, after years of loss, fear, and resilience, I finally held my rainbow baby in my arms. That moment did not erase my grief, because love does not replace love. My babies who are no longer here remain part of my story, just as my rainbow baby is. 

Today, I share my journey not for sympathy, but for awareness. FGR continues to leave many families with more questions than answers - Did the doctor not diagnose in time? Did I do something that wasn’t right? Was my body not strong enough? and many more such questions. Whether it is linked to autoimmune conditions, connective tissue disorders, or other causes that I still don't know in my case, but I hope that by sharing my story, more research, awareness, and understanding will help protect other babies and spare other parents from the heartbreak of saying goodbye far too soon.

 My journey has taught me that motherhood is not measured by the time we have with our children, but by the love we carry for them forever. I carry all of my children in my heart. All of them made me a mother.