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By Sherri Smith
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I was 27 weeks pregnant, more than six months along and approaching my third trimester. My stomach was growing, and I pictured the little boy my husband and I would soon bring home. I never imagined I would go through labor and leave the hospital without him.
In December 2017, I went to a hospital in Cleveland, Ohio, after experiencing worsening cramps. I hoped for reassurance. Instead, I learned that my son's heart was no longer beating.
There are moments that divide life into a before and an after. That was mine.
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On December 12, during a snowstorm, I gave birth to my son.
I held him. I looked at him. I loved him. Then I had to say goodbye.
The hospital gave me keepsakes, including his footprints and a bereavement teddy bear. It felt like a cruel joke. I understand the intended kindness behind that gesture, but I had carried my son for 27 weeks, and now I was leaving without him, holding a stuffed animal instead. It was a reality my heart could barely comprehend.
At home, my body had been through childbirth, but there was no baby to feed or little boy to introduce to our family. Grief followed me into ordinary moments. Some days I could laugh, work and cook. Other days I cried without warning.
My husband was grieving, too. We leaned on each other and on our faith. I was raised to believe in God, and I still do, but I struggled with questions. Why had I been given the blessing of carrying my son, loving him and preparing for his arrival, only to lose him?
I wanted an explanation. More than anything, I wanted my baby.
In the years that followed, we continued to try to bring a child home. I experienced an early pregnancy loss in February 2019. Later that year, I became pregnant again, but that pregnancy wasn't viable. I underwent a D&C in January 2020.
The emotions that pregnancy stirred had become complicated for me. A positive test brought excitement alongside fear. I knew how precious those first moments of hope were, and how uncertain they could feel.
In November 2022, I experienced another early loss. After the new year, I saw another positive test. I was shocked to be pregnant again so soon, but over the following days, the lines grew lighter until they disappeared.
Meanwhile, I kept building my culinary business, loving my husband and showing up for the people in my life. Privately, I was heartbroken. I kept praying, though I couldn't understand why this journey had been so difficult.
Then, in March, two months after the last miscarriage, another test was positive.
I laughed when I saw it—not because it was funny, but because I didn't know how to feel. I wanted to celebrate, yet I was afraid of another heartbreak.
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That pregnancy began with twins. For a little while, I imagined bringing two babies home. Around nine or ten weeks, we learned that one twin had stopped developing.
I mourned one baby while still carrying another. Every appointment felt precious. I wanted to enjoy the pregnancy, but I also knew how quickly things could change.
On November 13, 2023, I gave birth to my daughter.
Finally, I left a hospital with my child in my arms. I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude. Yet I still missed her brother. I wondered what he would have been like, and how he might have welcomed his little sister.
I came to understand that happiness and grief can exist together. One doesn't have to take away from the other.
In January 2025, I learned I was pregnant again. On September 11, 2025, I welcomed my second daughter.
Across seven pregnancies, I experienced four miscarriages, the stillbirth of my son and the loss of one twin. Today, my husband and I are raising two beautiful daughters.
Our daughters have brought more joy into our lives than words can express, and I will always carry a special place in my heart for each of the babies we lost.
Most people know me as Chef Bae, a Southern soul food chef and cookbook author who shares recipes with millions of people online. They see the joy I bring to my work. They may not know the experiences that have shaped me behind the scenes.
Turning 40 this month has made me reflect on our family, our faith and every child who will always have a place in our hearts.
I am grateful for my husband and our daughters. I still believe in God, even when I don't have answers. And I've learned that gratitude doesn't require me to stop grieving.
I'm sharing my story for the woman who wants to celebrate a positive pregnancy test but is frightened by what she has endured before. For the mother who has said goodbye to a baby she longed to raise. For anyone who feels both joy and sadness as their family grows.
You can have faith and still search for understanding. You can embrace the children you're raising while lovingly remembering those you lost. Every one of those feelings deserves compassion.
I will never forget December 12, 2017. I will never forget holding my son, his tiny footprints or the teddy bear I carried home when all I wanted was my baby. I still have the bear. I tear up just looking at it, but I’ve treasured it all these years as a precious reminder of my son. I kept the baby blanket I held him in, too.
But today, when I look at my daughters, I see extraordinary blessings and the beautiful family my husband and I have built. Although our family photographs cannot show every child who has been part of our journey, each child will always have a place in our story.
I am raising two beautiful daughters. And I will always be the mother of the little boy I never got to bring home.
Sherri Smith, professionally known as Chef Bae, is a chef and cookbook author in Atlanta.
All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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