02 Jun Beyond Heartbreak: A Mother’s Story of Termination for Medical Reasons
Content warning (CW). This story contains detailed descriptions of miscarriage, infertility, and termination for medical reasons (TFMR), which may be distressing to some
Termination for medical reasons (TFMR) is a reality too few talk about, yet so many endure. In this personal account, Rhiannon Kavanagh shares her journey through infertility, loss, and a TFMR that changed her forever. This is her story of love, grief, and the daughter she carries in her heart.
Years of Infertility, Miscarriages, and the Hope That Followed
Our TFMR wasn’t our first heartbreak. Over four years, we’d been trying to conceive our first child. In that time, I experienced three miscarriages — four babies lost. Each time I saw two pink lines, hope surged through me. But every loss cracked me open a little more. We tried IVF too – three failed embryo transfers, three more gut-wrenching disappointments.
I pressed on, clinging to every thread of hope.
Eventually, a new doctor gave us a real one.
Our first double embryo transfer post-surgery worked. I can still feel the explosion of joy in my chest when we saw two little flickering heartbeats on the screen. Twins. Again! I wept — bursting with joy. What a miracle — I was finally going to get my family.
But joy is fragile when dealing with infertility.
A week later, Twin B was gone. I grieved deeply for that tiny life, but tried to hold onto gratitude that one baby was still with us. Nausea hit hard, but I welcomed the sickness, believing this was our time. I let my guard down and kept the glimmer of hope alive.
At 13 weeks, I went in for an early anatomy scan, excited just to see our baby again. Their little heart was still beating, and I smiled with relief. Then the sonographer paused: “There’s something wrong with your baby’s tummy.”
The world tilted.
‘What do you mean? What’s wrong? Is our baby okay?’
They couldn’t say much. A report would be sent to my GP but it was severe enough that I needed to see her that same day.
A Devastating Diagnosis and the Agonising Decision No Parent Should Face
The GP was honest. Initially, our baby was misdiagnosed with a giant omphalocele and partial ectopia cordis. Referring us to Maternal Foetal Medicine, we faced a 16 week wait and an agonising festive season in a haze of fear and frantic research; slowly coming to understand the inevitable.
Finally meeting with Maternal Foetal Medicine, the truth hit harder than I could’ve imagined. It wasn’t an omphalocele. We found out it was a girl. She didn’t have an abdominal wall – her organs were outside her body. A non-genetic one in a million rare birth defect diagnosis completely incompatible with life.
I named her Linnea, after the Linnaea borealis flower (the twinflower) for the sibling she had lost.
I was induced at 17 weeks and on January 15th, 2024, Linnea was born and died. She was so tiny, fitting perfectly into the palm of my hand.
No one can prepare you for what TFMR feels like; holding your child and memorising every feature of their tiny face because that’s all you’ll ever have, seeing your partner break down and sob with your precious baby in their giant hands, it’s love so fierce and consuming that you bear the impossible pain so your baby doesn’t have to.
TFMR is not a choice – it’s an act of mercy wrapped in overwhelming love and unbearable grief. We took on that lifetime of pain so Linnea wouldn’t suffer a moment.
Finding Support After TFMR: Counselling, Connection and Healing
I reached out to Red Nose early. Their Hospital to Home program got me through my darkest weeks. My first counsellor helped me wade through the flood of grief and tears and sat with me in the silence. I found solace in their in-person support groups, spaces where I could speak Linnea’s name and cry freely. I still have ongoing counselling with them. They give me tools to keep breathing when I didn’t think I could. I owe them so much. I’ll never stop being thankful.
If you’re going through TFMR right now, I am so deeply sorry. It is the kind of pain that steals your breath, the kind that feels endless. But please know this: you will survive. You will feel the sun again. You will laugh. You will hope. The pain doesn’t vanish, but you learn to live with it. I think of Linnea every hour of every day. She is woven into the fabric of my life.
Rhiannon and her husband Christopher have been dealing with infertility and pregnancy loss for the past five and half years, losing six babies over four pregnancies.
Red Nose 24/7 Grief and Loss Support Line supports anyone affected by the loss of a pregnancy, stillbirth, baby or child death. Call 1300 308 307 or visit rednosegriefandloss.org.au
Red Nose Day Australia 2025 will be held on Thursday 28 August 2025. This is because Red Nose Day is always celebrated on the second Friday of August. The event is a fundraising day where people wear red noses and engage in silly activities to raise money for Red Nose Grief and Loss, a charity that provides support for families affected by Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS)
