The Hardest Thing I've Ever Written
*A quick note before you read: This week's newsletter is more personal than usual and may be difficult for those who have experienced the loss of a child. I wanted to acknowledge that before you continue.*
It was a beautiful Friday morning in November. I had wrapped up my work for the day, we had our 25-week checkup for our second child at 10a, and then we were going to hang out with Cooper for the rest of the day.
To that point, for both pregnancies, I had been to all of the appointments. That morning, 10 month old Cooper was having one of those mornings where he wasn't going to be great at a doctor's office. So Jenna went solo and I stayed back with Cooper as we went about our day.
At about 10:15a, Jenna called. I excitedly answered the phone, but instantly things had changed. Jenna was sobbing and mustered out three words, "We lost her."
The next 24 hours were a blur, and everything happened so fast. I immediately grabbed Cooper, put him in the car, and drove to the doctor's office. On the way, I called my dad, who was at work, and simply said, "I need 5 minutes right now." I shared what was going on, and he listened. I knew that I needed to get out what I needed to get out so that I could go into that room ready.
When I arrived, all I could do was hug Jenna. The doctors then shared what had happened and what was going to happen next, which was all quite rapid. We were to go home, grab a few key items, and go to the hospital to do the worst possible thing humans can do in this life: deliver a child you won't be able to take home.
Fortunately for us, we had family nearby who picked up Cooper and took him for the day. We went to a familiar setting, one we had been in just 10 months earlier, knowing we'd have the complete opposite result.
About 10 hours later, around 12:30 a.m. on November 9, 2024, Jenna gave birth to a little girl, Harper Jane Conley. Although she was stillborn, we took the opportunity to hold her and sit with her. It was a surreal interaction, one I don't wish on anyone, but also one that I am glad we had and one that I will never forget.
Obviously, in all of this, it is brutal on the parents, especially the mother. It is one of, if not the cruelest things we endure in this life. I remember at one point being in the bathroom of the hospital room, uncontrollably sobbing, because as a father, I feel it is my job to protect my children and wife. In this instance, regardless of how out of my control it was, I felt like I had failed.
While tragic, we were also fortunate. Many families in this situation face significant hospital bills and funeral costs. While we had to pay the hospital bills, we had the money to do so and insurance that helped a lot. The local funeral home also held a group funeral for families who had experienced loss, at no cost, which was an incredible gesture.
Not every family has that financial security or support during an already devastating time.
Since then, I have met so many people who have gone through this, and it is truly the reason I have decided to write about it two years later.
I write a lot, I had a podcast, and I am comfortable sharing a lot about my life in public, but this is one thing I had held back on, and it was because of perception.
Like most, I use my writing as a way to build my brand and business. I had a deep fear that someone would think I was using this situation to do that, and then I met Abby, who challenged that thinking.
The reality is that I am not sharing this to build my business or get likes, not in the least. I am sharing it because I hope it can help someone else, and her willingness to share her story inspired me to do the same.
Who is Abby Astle? Well, she is a parent of loss, but one who allowed her personal tragedy to fuel her into helping others. She founded a nonprofit, Daniel Lee's Gift, which raises funds to support families experiencing loss and has already helped many families financially during an incredibly difficult time.
I asked to interview her in the hopes that my writing and the work she does, finds the right person, the person who needs it most.
You can watch our conversation here: Watch my conversation with Abby
This week, I am going to ask you all a favor. In nearly a year of writing this, I haven't asked you to share what I write. I always feel like if it is good and you think of the right person, you will share it. You don't need me asking you, but in this case, I am going to ask.
If you know someone who would benefit from reading what I wrote, learning about Daniel Lee's Gift, or could benefit just from talking to another parent who has gone through it, please share it.
I also recognize there are a lot of causes that matter to a lot of people and I would never pretend that one is more important than another but if our story moves you and you're in a position to help, I hope you'll consider supporting the work Daniel Lee's Gift is doing. Your donation can help another family facing an unimaginable loss.
Candidly, two years later, I am still searching for a way to honor Harper's life. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I am hoping this is a start.
Thank you for reading.
Paul