How we loved – and lost – our child while travelling in South America

Trigger warning: Pregnancy loss

Antarctica

I first had an inkling that I might be pregnant while on board our cruise to Antarctica. I’ve always had a pretty regular period and was expecting to get it on the cruise, so when days passed and it didn’t come, the mounting excitement at seeing penguins was paralleled with that of the reality of having our own little cutie.

When it was time to do the polar plunge, I hesitated. My gut feeling was that I was pregnant, but there was no way to verify this on the cruise without a pregnancy test kit, so I had to resist the urge to do the jump even though all my friends were doing it. ET, being the sweetheart that he is, promised that one day, we would return with our kid in tow and that we could do the polar plunge together.

We disembarked from the cruise on a Sunday, which also meant that all the pharmacies were closed and there was once again no way of obtaining a test kit. By this time, I was about a week late so the vibes were definitely strong. When I went to bed that night, I experienced the strange sensation of giddily rocking in my sleep, as if I was still aboard the Ocean Atlantic as it navigated the rollicking waves of the Drake Passage. It was extremely unnerving as I’m not one to normally experience sea sickness, much less on land!

A quick Google check the next morning revealed that dizziness could be a symptom of pregnancy, which was all ET needed to rush out in 4 deg weather in search for a pregnancy kit. He walked for 2km before obtaining 2 different kits, and excitedly took a cab back, asking me to get ready for the test.

Unfortunately, I had just gone to the toilet before reading the message and it would be another 40 minutes before I was ready.

It wasn’t really a surprise to me when the test came back positive, but the tears still flowed. The thing about buying a test kit in Argentina is the instructions are in Spanish, so the word that came up on the kit was “embarazada”. When I showed this to ET, he looked confused and said “so.. you’re not?” And I was like “no! This means pregnant!” It was only later that he revealed he had read “empanada” on the screen. Empanadas are the South American counterparts of curry puffs, so he was very confused as to why they would feature on the test kit.

We couldn’t agree on whether to tell our friends and family – I felt like it was too early; he was really excited to share the news. In the end, I gave in to him. We managed to FaceTime both sets of parents because they happened to be in JB together. We told them that we had learnt a new Spanish word and got them to translate it. When my dad saw the translation, he exclaimed “Oh my god!” and showed it to the rest of the table. They all started to clap and congratulate each other.

It’s funny how quickly one can come up with plans. We calculated the estimated month I would deliver and considered it divine intervention that it coincided with the time that ET might be attending a 6 month course. We discussed names, thought of how we might want to reveal it to the rest of our friends and family. I felt most relieved that I would no longer have to deal with questions during CNY on when we were going to have a child. Suddenly the landscape of Ushuaia looked entirely different to us from when we had first arrived. We left with a new identity, a new sense of purpose.

Argentina

Our next few days in Buenos Aires were super chill. While I’m usually the type to go for walking tours every day, we spent the first two days just lazing in the apartment and playing dice games with our German friends. The colourful graffitied streets of Palermo became our backdrop for photos where I posed with my fingers making a heart over my womb; the famed steaks in the parillas unfortunately no longer something I could enjoy.

Uruguay

I noticed that I wasn’t experiencing any of the symptoms commonly associated with pregnancy, and wondered if I was truly one of the lucky few to be exempt from morning sickness. When we got to the estancia in Uruguay, I realised that there was nothing to do except rest because horseriding and sweating it out in the sauna were not activities I could partake in. At night, we watched the season’s first fireflies twinkle around the bushes. I loved the little light in their bellies and thought, “there’s one in mine too.”

We were deliberate about keeping it slow, we really were. But the first sign of trouble came when we were in Jose Ignacio, a little beach town by the coast of Uruguay. I started to experience some dark brown spotting. It’s totally normal, the internet said. It’s very common during the 6th to 8th week, testimony after testimony reassured. And so I believed. Those few days exploring the coast were languid, but the rise and fall of the waves mirrored every crest and trough we experienced as we read testimonies of hope and despair.

We couldn’t wait any longer for the ultrasound, so our first item on the agenda when we got to Montevideo was looking for a gynae. I had never felt my heart beat so hard in my chest before as we waited to be called into the room. The sense of helplessness was only intensified by the twisted tongues of our language barrier. As the doctor did the scan, she pointed out in broken English how small the embryo was. Too small, 5 weeks, maybe bleeding because of this. Blighted ovum. Check in 1 month. If no grow, no baby.

Have you ever felt a city lose its colour?

Colombia

Our next stop was Medellin, where we instantly fell in love with stylish boutique stores and fairy-lit streets. This is a city on the cusp of change, eager to shed its erstwhile infamy of “world’s most dangerous city” for one that is on the brink of transformation and technological change. I too, felt like my body was shedding its newly attained skin all too quickly as the bleeding intensified. There were afternoons when I lay on the bed in the hotel room, feet propped up on the cushions, as I tried to wrestle with the cramps. I began paying more attention to whatever my body was expelling, hoping I would be able to catch a glimpse of our little one.

From then on, the bleeding intensified. It got to a point where I dreaded going to the toilet; each visit a painful no reminder of what my body was rejecting. Still, we hoped and prayed. But – perhaps due to intuition – we also grieved for what felt like the inevitable. The comfort that Lima offered us was food for the soul, truly earning its spot as the culinary capital of South America. We went to the bohemian Barranco neighbourhood, home to the city’s best murals and also a bridge which purportedly granted wishes if you were able to hold your breath whilst crossing it. Because we’re Singaporean and kiasu, we crossed twice, puffer-fished and nearly blue, knowing without a doubt that we had the same wish in mind.

On the 21st of November, just 17 days after we had found out that we were going to be parents, and as we were preparing to leave for the airport to go to Bogota, I passed out what looked like the gestational sac. I knew without a doubt, at that point, that our little Pip’s journey had come to an end, just as we were preparing to leave South America. Was it fate that he/she was not meant to survive this continent?

We could only comfort ourselves with the thought that if little Pip couldn’t survive these few weeks, he/she probably wouldn’t last in future. Still, this was meant to be our special baby and our best “souvenir” from this amazing journey that has brought us closer and stronger together as a couple. We were all prepared to tell him/her how he/she had already been to the 7th continent and South America, the furthest points from home and lands beyond our wildest imagination. He/she was our little penguin and we were so ready to protect it fiercely with all we had. But despite our best efforts, little Pip was not meant to be.

Our last day in South America was spent in Bogotá. We had plans to enjoy one last dinner at our favourite Nikkei restaurant, Osaka. But divine intervention and deep-seated anger at the government that led to nationwide protests meant that this was also thwarted. Our hotel, which was situated right next to the university, meant that we had front row seats to the tear gas and wrath. Despite knowing that I had definitely suffered a miscarriage and was now inhaling tear gas, I couldn’t help laughing at how we had spent the last 2 months “escaping” from the riots in Ecuador and Chile, only to enjoy an authentic experience on our last day in Colombia. It almost seemed fitting that this was the continent’s parting gift to us – a lesson in surrender – that despite the best laid our plans and precautions, some things are inevitable, and we can only rely on faith to carry us through.

Our rainbow

Even as I share this 2 years on, the pain is still fresh, ameliorated only by the fact that we have a healthy, adorable boy with us today. We went on to experience a chemical pregnancy in June 2020, before conceiving Trevor. Suffice to say, we were extra careful/paranoid when I was expecting him because we were so afraid of suffering yet another miscarriage. Although our doctors have repeatedly reassured us that there was nothing we could have done to stop the miscarriage from happening, there were many times when I wondered if it was the activities that we did in Chile (thermal baths and volcano-climbing) before knowing about the pregnancy that had caused it. And while we will never know, I take comfort in how these experiences have made us stronger as a couple.

In sharing these stories, I’ve realised how commonplace miscarriages are, and how there is still so much shame and stigma around it. I really hope this is something that changes because no one should have to suffer this pain alone. If you have ever suffered a pregnancy loss, I am so, so sorry. My heart goes out to you. I know your pain, your trauma, and I grieve with you. I know that faith can seem far and foreign. And while the pain of losing your child will never disappear completely, I pray that you too, will see the rainbow after the storm and be so fortunate as to be blessed with one who will bring light and joy into your life.