My own journey to motherhood was anything but simple. Two years into marriage, my husband and I experienced our first loss – an ectopic pregnancy. I had heard about it before, but nothing could prepare me for my own version of this loss. The physical and emotional recovery left me feeling broken, unsure of how to move forward. Our journey to parenthood turned into an agonising struggle. The more we tried to conceive, the more hope seemed to drift further away. Infertility brought its own grief – a silent, isolating sorrow that grew heavier with each passing day.
After four years of yearning and countless visits to the fertility clinic, in the instant the second line appeared on the pregnancy test, I felt as though I had surfaced from deep underwater and could finally breathe again. In that singular moment of joy and happiness, it was as if I filled my entire lungs with air. ​In August 2005, our first Rainbow Baby, Rakhi was born, a perfect, long-awaited dream come true. Overwhelmed with gratitude, we decided not to wait too long before trying again. This time, without the desperation that had weighed on me for years, we conceived effortlessly. Our son, Krishan, was born in November 2006, just 15 months after his sister. Our family was complete, I felt content and happy like never before.
​At full term, just two days old, our son Krishan passed away. The pain was unlike anything I had ever known. Our world came to an abrupt standstill, while everyone else’s kept moving. That loss changed everything – our lives, our marriage, and the path ahead. For a long time, I couldn’t imagine having another baby. I didn’t want another baby. I wanted him back. Grief came in waves – just as I would glimpse a little light, another wave would crash, pulling me under again. I couldn’t see a way forward.
My husband and I grieved in very different ways. That’s why I feel so strongly about individualising my grief coaching – not just for each couple, but for each parent. Grief is deeply personal. To the outside world, you may seem to be coping, moving through days, weeks, months, and years. But only you know the true weight of your loss. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, only your way to grieve.
In April 2008, we welcomed our second Rainbow Baby, Aisha. I am blessed to have my two daughters and will forever hold gratitude to the universe for these two amazing baby dolls in my life – one is my heart, the other my heartbeat. They are both at the very core of who I am today.​ Three years later, we found ourselves expecting again, excited to grow our family. At our 12-week scan, we received the devastating news that there was no heartbeat. And just like that, the cycle of grief began once again.​ Every loss changed me. Every moment of grief built my resilience.​
I’ve been walking alongside grieving families for over 20 years. Through my own lived experiences of ectopic pregnancy, infertility, neonatal death and early miscarriage I understand that this kind of loss reshapes your entire world. I volunteer with Sands (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Society), supporting bereaved couples through their darkest days. I am trained in bereavement care to provide pregnancy and baby loss support in a community setting and committed to creating a safe, grounded space for you to grieve and grow in your own time.​ You are not alone. Your grief matters. And your journey, wherever you are on it, deserves to be honoured.
Listen to me talk to Sharna Southan
In this deeply moving episode of What I Wish I Knew After Pregnancy Loss, host Sharna Southan speaks with me – Bina Jesani, a pregnancy and baby loss grief coach from the UK.
I share my 23-year journey navigating multiple losses—an ectopic pregnancy, the neonatal death of her son Krishan, and an early miscarriage—and how these experiences shaped my calling to support other bereaved parents.