2 months on from the tragic loss of their third child, Chrissy Teigen and John Legend have launched a new charity and, in doing so, have opened up about their grief.
In September this year, Chrissy Teigen and her husband, John Legend, tragically lost their third and unborn child, Jack.
Taking to their social media channels just a handful of times to share their grief with the world.
And, in doing so, they opened up further about their ongoing grief.
Here’s the full story…
Chrissy gave birth to their daughter, Luna Simone Stephens, on April 14, 2016, and son, Miles Theodore Stephens, on May 16, 2018.
And by that, we mean she shares the ins and outs of being a mom.
Via music video.
The video was for John’s new track, “Wild”, and it showed the couple on a white linen bed on the beach.
We get an unexpected, yet very exciting shot of the pair.
Yep, the Legends were officially going to become a family of 5.
And they all walk towards the ocean together as a family.
And clearly, the family was overjoyed at the prospect of a new arrival.
The expectant mother was placed on “super serious bed rest” due to a weak placenta, ultimately making Luna wait on her hand and foot.
And Chrissy shared an adorable snap of Luna washing her hair.
“Every day she makes me a warm (not hot, chill!) bath and refuses to let me wash my own hair girls, man. @johnlegend how did we get so lucky with lulu??” she wrote.
Reports came in 2 months ago that Chrissy had been hospitalized.
“So, we all know I’ve been on bed rest for a few weeks. And that’s like super serious bed rest, like get up to quickly pee and that’s it. I would take baths twice a week, no showering. I was always, always bleeding… I’m about halfway through pregnancy and blood has been going for a month…maybe a little less than a month. But we’re talking more than your period, girls, but definitely not spotting. A lot of people spot and it’s usually fine. Mine was a lot.”
“But honestly, just laying there would be blood,” she said.
“But today, the big difference was that it kind of was like if you were to turn a faucet onto low and leave it there. It’s so weird because I feel really good… I’m usually at my happiest pregnant, mood-wise. I feel happier than I do not pregnant. That’s why it’s so hard for me to come to terms with. It was at the point today where it was never stopping bleeding.”
“But I feel really good. The baby is so healthy, growing stronger than Luna or Miles. He moves a lot. He moves so much earlier than they ever did. He’s strong. I’m so excited for him because he’s so wonderful, the strongest little dude. So, I can’t wait for him.”
Sharing a series of moving black and white photographs from the hospital, Chrissy announced shortly afterwards that she and John had tragically lost their third unborn child.
“We never decide on our babies’ names until the last possible moment after they’re born, just before we leave the hospital. But we, for some reason, had started to call this little guy in my belly Jack. So he will always be Jack to us. Jack worked so hard to be a part of our little family, and he will be, forever.”
“To our Jack – I’m so sorry that the first few moments of your life were met with so many complications, that we couldn’t give you the home you needed to survive. We will always love you. Thank you to everyone who has been sending us positive energy, thoughts and prayers. We feel all of your love and truly appreciate you.”
“We are so grateful for the life we have, for our wonderful babies Luna and Miles, for all the amazing things we’ve been able to experience. But every day can’t be full of sunshine. On this darkest of days, we will grieve, we will cry our eyes out. But we will “hug and love each other harder and get through it.”
But, just a few weeks later, Chrissy made her social media return to share an essay she wrote for Medium.
“I had no idea when I would be ready to write this. Part of me thought it would be early on, when I was still really feeling the pain of what happened. I thought I would sit in the corner of my bedroom with the lights dimmed, just rolling off my thoughts. I’d have a glass of red wine, cozy up with a blanket, and finally get the chance to address ‘what happened’.”
“I’m reading off countless notes from my phone — thoughts that have randomly popped up in the weeks since.”
“I didn’t really know how I would start this, no matter the room or state I was in, but it feels right to begin with a thank you. For weeks, our floors have been covered in flowers of kindness.
“Notes have flooded in and have each been read with our own teary eyes. Social media messages from strangers have consumed my days, most starting with, ‘you probably won’t read this, but…’. I can assure you, I did.”
“But I will tell you, some of the best letters started with, “You don’t have to respond to this, but…”. After we first lost Jack, I found myself incredibly worried that I wasn’t able to thank everyone for their extreme kindness. Many shared incredible personal experiences, some shared books, and poems.”
“I wanted to thank everyone, share our story with each individual person. But I knew I was in no state to. For me, the ‘no need to respond’ note was such a true relief. I thank you for each and every one of those.”
“One of the standout moments from that morning (or evening? I have no idea) was me going through the halls of labor and delivery, and John saying ‘What, is there a f****** party going on here??’ Here we were, just wheeled down to a new floor, me covered in a thin blanket to hide, knowing I was about to fully deliver what was supposed to be the 5th member of our beautiful family, a son, only to say goodbye moments later.
“People cheered and laughed right outside our door, understandably for a new life born and celebrated. You kind of wonder how anyone is thinking about anyone but you.”
“At this point I had already come to terms with what would happen: I would have an epidural and be induced to deliver our twenty week old, a boy that would have never survived in my belly (please excuse these simple terms).
“I was previously on bedrest for over a month, just trying to get the little dude to 28 weeks, a “safer” zone for the fetus. My doctors diagnosed me with partial placenta abruption. I had always had placenta problems. I had to deliver Miles a month early because his stomach wasn’t getting enough food from my placenta. But this was my first abruption. We monitored it very closely, hoping for things to heal and stop.”
“In bed, I bled and bled, lightly but all day, changing my own diapers every couple of hours when the blood got uncomfortable to lay in. I actually became an adult diaper expert for my own personal entertainment, truly appreciating the brands that went out of their way to not make me feel like an actual sh****** baby.”
“Some were blush-colored, with drawn delicate flowers. I got to the point where I was actually like, ‘hell yeah, throw me the pink ones!’ — something I never thought I’d be excited for. But there we were.”
“Finally, I had a pretty bad night in bed, after a not-so-great ultrasound, where I was bleeding a bit more than even my abnormal amount. My bleeding was getting heavier and heavier. The fluid around Jack had become very low — he was barely able to float around. At some points, I swore it was so low I could lay on my back and feel his arms and legs from outside my belly.”
“I had asked my mom and John to take pictures, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I explained to a very hesitant John that I needed them, and that I did NOT want to have to ever ask. That he just had to do it. He hated it. I could tell.
“It didn’t make sense to him at the time. But I knew I needed to know of this moment forever, the same way I needed to remember us kissing at the end of the aisle, the same way I needed to remember our tears of joy after Luna and Miles. And I absolutely knew I needed to share this story.”
“How little I care that it’s something you wouldn’t have done. I lived it, I chose to do it, and more than anything, these photos aren’t for anyone but the people who have lived this or are curious enough to wonder what something like this is like. These photos are only for the people who need them. The thoughts of others do not matter to me.”
“After a couple nights at the hospital, my doctor told me exactly what I knew was coming — it was time to say goodbye.
“He just wouldn’t survive this, and if it went on any longer, I might not either. We had tried bags and bags of blood transfusions, every single one going right through me like we hadn’t done anything at all.”
“I cried a little at first, then went into full-blown convulsions of snot and tears, my breath not able to catch up with my own incredibly deep sadness. Even as I write this now, I can feel the pain all over again. Oxygen was placed over my nose and mouth, and that was the first picture you saw. Utter and complete sadness.”
“I stupidly compared it to dogs I had “put down” in the past — how I never wanted to let go until we absolutely knew it was time, that they were suffering far too much. I texted this to my doctor and she said ‘absolutely.’
“Later that night, I went to the bathroom, looked down into the toilet (I had been doing this for months), and broke down again. The sheer amount of blood and clots showed me exactly what I had been waiting for. It was time.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the experience. I had always laughed about how much I loved epidurals…not so much this one. I laid there for hours, waiting to be told it was time to push. I obviously never had to dilate much, he was still a tiny little guy.
“I had been laying on my side, switching sides every hour or so, whenever the nurse told me to. I remember laying on my right side, looking opposite of John, when I was told to make my switch. I opened my legs and started to turn to face John and just like that, he was on his way out. The doctors yelled for a bit and…I don’t know what to say, even now. He was out.”
“I asked the nurses to show me his hands and feet and I kissed them over and over and over again. I have no idea when I stopped. It could have been 10 minutes or an hour.”
I dunno how long he had been waiting to be delivered for. That will probably always haunt me. Just writing it makes my nose and eyes tingle with tears. All I know now is his ashes are in a small box, waiting to be put into the soil of a tree in our new home, the one we got with his room in mind.”
“Maybe *too* bursting full, actually. I find myself randomly crying, thinking about how happy I am to have two insanely wonderful little toddlers who fill this house with love. I smother them with love while they “Moooooooom!!!!!” me. I don’t care.”
Ever since, Chrissy has been taking it easy at home and catching up on some much-needed quality time with her children.
Yesterday, the couple appeared on Good Morning America, where they revealed they had teamed up with the Ronald McDonald House Charities, a non-profit that supports families with sick and injured children by providing resources and helping them stay together during treatment.
“Wanting the best for your children and wanting to keep families together, for us, is insanely important. What they’re doing is so incredible and so beautiful, and I am so proud to support it.”
Speaking about grieving their loss, Chrissy said:
“I definitely give myself permission to have complete and utter grief. Every day is so different, so when people ask me how I’m doing, I always say, ‘I’m okay today.’ “
“I didn’t know that we could experience this grief and also share it, but when we did, it really meant so much to so many people and it was such a powerful experience for me to learn that. I’m just grateful that my wife was courageous enough to do it.”
For more on the beloved Legend family, keep scrolling…