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“The sudden shattering of hopes for parenthood, the physical recovery from the loss, and societal expectations to ‘move on’ quickly can create immense pressure.”
Callers often face complex emotions.
“They report feelings of grief, guilt, shame and isolation… some struggle with fears about future fertility or conflicts with partners who process grief differently.
“Befrienders volunteers, trained in empathetic listening, provide confidential emotional support.
“They create a safe space for callers to express pain that may feel unspeakable.”
On sensitive issues, she added:
“Befrienders does not take sides on the morality of abortion… Our focus is the caller’s emotional wellbeing – helping them process feelings of loss, remorse, or unresolved grief without condemnation.”
Faith and Hope
For many, faith offers a way to make sense of loss.
Kuching-based Catholic theologian Dr Jeffrey Goh said understanding has evolved over time.
“In the past, the concept of ‘limbo’ was used to describe the afterlife state of unbaptised infants.”
The idea, he noted, was never formal doctrine.
“In 2005, Pope Benedict XVI referred the matter to the Vatican’s International Theological Commission for further study.
“In 2007, the commission concluded that the theory reflected ‘an unduly restrictive view of salvation’ and that there were ‘serious theological grounds for hope that unbaptised infants who die will be saved and brought into eternal happiness.
“Today, the Church encourages believers to entrust these children to the merciful and loving heart of God,” he said.
A Life Remembered
For Sabahan-born entrepreneur Rachel Woods-Ansibin, now based in New Zealand, the loss of her first son never left her mind.
“We lost our precious baby during the second trimester, at around 14-15 weeks’ gestation,” she said.
“My water broke, and I suffered a miscarriage. An hour prior, the midwife had listened to his heartbeat. He was still with us, which means he was alive when I gave birth to him.
“He was so very small. So tiny, yet so deeply loved.”
Her late mother-in-law, Francie, gently wrapped the baby.
“We laid him to rest beneath the big tree at our old home in Ōtara. It felt peaceful there, like he was sheltered and close to us.”
For years, the memory lingered quietly.
“When my husband. Steven, tried to sell the house, the process repeatedly failed,” she said.
“We carried a feeling in our hearts that maybe Israel wasn’t meant to be left behind.”
The couple later made the difficult decision to exhume and rebury their son.
“We opened the container so we could rebury him properly. Seeing his tiny bones was heartbreaking. A sacred reminder of how small he was, and how real he was.”
With the blessing of family, Israel was reburied alongside his grandmother.
“Not long after, the house finally sold. In our hearts, we felt a quiet peace, as though Israel was with us. Ready for us to move forward.”
Holding On, Letting Go
For Stephanie Lo, who is a Licensed Professional Company Secretary based in Kota Kinabalu, the journey to loss unfolded over weeks of uncertainty and emotional strain.
“Ten years ago, I had a stillbirth of a baby girl (20 weeks old). She had Turner syndrome, a very rare condition that occurred one in 4,000 (0.025 per cent chances) pregnancy and only in female babies.
“The cause for Turner Syndrome is a random genetic event, not inherited, and not linked to maternal age.”
The diagnosis came early.
“We discovered it when I was 12 weeks pregnant… the gynaecologist informed us that normally the baby would not survive past 14 weeks.”
The emotional burden was immediate and overwhelming.
“In the beginning, it was a really shocking experience… How can this be happening for the second pregnancy?”
“With a baby growing inside of me, and knowing that she will not survive, is a very difficult emotional experience to describe.”
Yet Isabella continued to fight.
“Fourteen weeks passed and the baby is still growing… her body is not draining out the fluids and her heart is being compressed. But our baby girl is still fighting, refusing to give up.”
Through it all, her husband, Humberto, remained a pillar of strength.
“I know that both of us are hurting, but he is so supportive… He says that we need to accept what God had plan for us, there is nothing we can do but pray and trust in His plan.”
Faith gave them meaning.
“We don’t know why Isabella was put in our path of life, but God has a better plan for her… She has a bigger and higher mission than us here on earth.”
At 18 weeks, her condition worsened.
“Her heart has now been compressed badly… but we could still hear the strong heartbeat.”
Doctors eventually asked them to speak to their baby.
“The gynaecologist asks us to try to talk to Isabella, asking her to let go.”
“It was a very difficult conversation… How can I ask my own flesh and blood to let go and give up and, in the meantime, I really love her so much?”
Two weeks later, Isabella passed.
“However, I think Isabella had felt it and on the 20th week, she was gone.”
Grief in Everyday Moments
Grief did not end with the loss – it deepened in the days that followed.
“Even after the procedure of still birth, I was crying, grieving because I lost a child.
“I remember that it was Mother’s Day that week… there were so many commercials, which made me cry even more.”
That night, she experienced a vivid dream.
“I dreamt that I was entering a room… it was a very large mortuary. Somehow, I had a feeling that this mortuary is only for unborn or dead babies.
“There was a nurse… she brought me to one of the chambers… inside laid Isabella, sleeping very peacefully and smiling so sweetly.
“Immediately, there was peace of mind and somehow, I know that Isabella is in Heaven with God.”
A decade later, the loss remains part of her life.
“If she was a normal baby, she would have been 10 years old now… maybe playing and having fun or even quarrelling with her sisters.”
“However, we always know that she is watching us and praying for us from Heaven.”
“God had entrusted her with a mission more important than anyone of us here.”
Breaking the Silence
Pregnancy loss does not end with the physical experience. It lingers – in quiet moments, anniversaries and imagined futures.
For families like Rachel’s and Stephanie’s, their children remain deeply “present”.
Their stories reflect not only grief, but enduring love.
And in sharing them, they help break a long-standing silence reminding others that they are not alone.
