Roni’s story

This is the story of Roni Mira. At only 24 weeks and 2 days into her first pregnancy, Roni’s mother Nikki received the terrifying news that her body was going into preterm labour. Roni lived for 9 days on this earth and in the aftermath of her death, guilt threatened to swallow her mother. Nikki shares how she chose love and learnt to live alongside her grief.

From the moment our baby surprised us with her existence, she has been teaching us compassion, kindness and unconditional love. In losing her, we had two options - to let the pain of losing her close off our hearts and harden our spirits, or to let the love we felt for her guide us on this new path we found ourselves on. We chose love.

At only 24 weeks and 2 days into our first pregnancy we received the terrifying news that my body was going into preterm labour. Our baby girl, Roni Mira, was delivered by emergency cesarean and after being gifted nine precious days with her we endured what no parent should ever have to. We said goodbye to our baby.

We left hospital without Roni, our arms empty. The pain so unbearable, like my heart had been ripped from my chest. In the following days and weeks the grief of losing our daughter consumed every cell of me. I felt so alone.

The “why us” haunted me. Guilt for failing her tormented me. My shattered heart was shutting down and everything I was passionate about before seemed to die with her. I was drowning in a pain so excruciating that continuing life without her seemed incomprehensible.

I wanted to close down my heart and shut myself away from the world. But a closed heart doesn’t heal. To heal, I had to find a way to reopen. My shattered heart needed to open to feel the ferociousness of each agonizing emotion as it came crashing down on me. Letting our emotions flow allows the crippling ones to pass and releases their power. They may return again and again, but slowly they will pass and in their place, maybe only for brief moments, the darkness will lift and there will be good, light and love.

During these brief moments of light I felt purpose to life could return. The loneliness and isolation felt from child loss lessened by sharing our story. We found we were not alone. Other parents had endured loss and we were on this path together. Meeting some of these parents, who were so strong that they live with their wounds yet so gentle they lived on with love, gave us the hope we needed to carry on. They showed us that there is life after loss.

The love and support we received gave us the strength to survive. The willingness of others to sit in our pain with us, no matter how uncomfortable they felt gave us something to be grateful for. From this kindness and connection we are gently stepping out of our darkness and slowly rebuilding.

The fierce love I feel for Roni propels me forward, not beyond the grief and pain, but instead to a place where I can  function with it. To be able to let my grief and gratitude co-exist, side by side.

Navigating life after loss is a daunting path full of complex emotions. There is no end to the pain I feel for the loss of our daughter, just as there is no end for the love I feel for her. It is the love that comes with having had a child - that trumps all.

Three years on and we have our rainbow baby’s, Mala Amor, two and Jimi Sol, five months. Mala’s pregnancy came with many challenges. The pregnancy started off as a twin pregnancy. I lost one early and spent the rest of the pregnancy just waiting to lose Mala to. It was very emotional, my mind full of fear, my body holding trauma and my heart far from healed. I did feel excitement, happiness and gratitude  - I also felt their opposites every step of the way.

With Mala and Jimi safe in my arms now, I feel peace returning. The ache in my heart of not having all our babies in my arms is always there. We have suffered loss and live with grief that will last a lifetime, but we also have so much to be grateful for.

The pain from living without our daughter has now softened from my face yet remains deeply etched in my heart. Waves of painfully intense emotions still crash into me with so much force I am left gasping for air in their wake, but the time between them is lengthening.

There is now room for other emotions to filter in. The fierce love I feel for Roni propels me forward, not beyond the grief and pain, but instead to a place where I can  function with it. To be able to let my grief and gratitude co-exist, side by side.

I have learnt to be kind to others, you never know what part of their path they are on. We may not know from the outside what someone is going through on the inside as their pain may be gone from their faces but remains in their hearts.

Being kind to myself didn’t come easy. With my wounds wide open, I could stay engulfed in grief and feel closer to Roni. Self care felt like I was trying to cover the pain and move on. Finding my way back to yoga guided me to see that when happiness arises it didn’t mean I was happy without our daughter and moving on from her, it meant I was happy because of her. Reigniting my passion for yoga is helping me gently and slowly release my guilt and treating myself lovingly helps to keep my precious Roni close.

Never underestimate the power of a kind word, an honest hug or the willingness to listen. These acts of kindness may just help someone rise enough from their despair to see there is still light. Day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath, I will continue on with love.

Nikki Clift is Roni’s mother, she lives with her family and two living children. You can connect with her directly via Instagram @theyogabotanica