Ask anyone who has lost a loved one — grief creeps up at the most random times.

It doesn’t matter how many months or years it has been, all it takes is one second for those memories and heartache to rush back. For me, all it took was an awkward moment to remind me that grief never goes away.

I was recently at a routine appointment. As the woman walked into the room, she smiled and said, “How are the kids?” I gave her a puzzled look, wondering if I heard her correctly. As a mother of one surviving triplet, I’m not used to hearing the plural form of “kid.” She repeated herself and that’s when I realized — she didn’t know that two of my children died.

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I waited until I was 12 weeks along to announce my pregnancy to my "web of people" on social media.

"HEY, YOU GUYS. WE'RE HAVIN' A BAYBAY!" was plastered all over my wall, along with some super adorable pregnancy announcement photos my friend snapped a few weeks before. The support and love flew in. The predictions of the sex and the hunt to find the perfect name started. We had just announced our pregnancy to thousands of our friends and family.

Photo by Amy Lynn, used with permission from Rebecca Swift.

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Natasha Rossi believed she had the perfect life.

She had two awesome kids — two and a half-year-old identical twins — and the love and support of her boyfriend, Desi. Life, she thought, could only get better.

All photos via Upworthy/Walgreens.

Then, in January 2019, she was hit with some of the hardest news that anyone can hear.

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