Four years ago, after struggling with fertility issues and trying desperately to have a baby, I was overjoyed to find out I was pregnant naturally. Years of hoping for this kept me very cautious throughout my pregnancy, but as time passed, I began to believe this dream may really come true.

Suddenly, on April 9, 2020, my world stopped spinning. I was sent to the hospital with stomach pains and within hours, my daughter Mila was born prematurely at 22 weeks and 4 days. She lived for one precious hour before dying in my arms. My partner and I wrestled with the loss; lonely, angry, overcome with grief and unsure how to move forward.

Over time, we have begun to move through the fog of this pain, but it remains as a deep scar, forever etched in our hearts.

Each year we celebrate Mila's birthday, lighting a candle and singing through tears as we dream about who she'd be if she were still here with us. When we take walks, we imagine conversations with her, when the sunsets are vibrant pink, we thank her for sending us little signs that she is still there.

I joined a virtual Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Group and would surround myself with tissues and a notepad as the meeting begin, ready to pour tears into the computer screen with other parents who shared my pain. It was then that I began to weep through some of my darkest moments and also offer love and encouragement to others whose pain was just as heavy. Four years after Mila's death, I attended an RTZ retreat for mothers and was moved by the love that could be shared by bereaved mothers, aching through loss. We were treated with incredible compassion, nourished by amazing food, music and activities and moved together in nature, working through our grief in a place where we could remove the masks we wore each day and just be ourselves, honoring our babies.