Home and Away star Sarah Roberts’ grief over miscarriages
Home and Away actor Sarah Roberts opens up about suffering two miscarriages in her first year of marriage, and shares the letter her fellow actor husband James Stewart encouraged her to write to help herself and other grieving mums. READ HER EMOTIONAL LETTER
Stellar
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Motherhood, for now, looks vastly different for Sarah Roberts than she expected it to – but nonetheless, the actor wants to speak candidly about the heartbreak she and husband James Stewart endured after she suffered two miscarriages in the past year.
As she sits down with Stellar for an exclusive interview, Roberts gives an honest account of how she grieved and is healing, and opens up to describe what she has learnt through loss in the hope it will help others.
She also shares her very personal letter to all the grieving mums out there.
You’ve written a raw and poignant letter about an experience that is not easy to talk about. Why did you want to share it publicly?
It’s helped to share my story with my girlfriends, and if I can give hope to another woman who is going through the same thing, it makes everything worthwhile.
I think there should be a new word instead of “miscarriage”. In some insidious way, it suggests the mother dropped something or decided not to carry. And I’ve learnt over the past few years [that in] most cases, it has nothing to do with what the mother did or didn’t do, so if we can take the blame off the table – and try not to blame yourself – that’s a great start.
[Roberts also sought support from Pink Elephants at miscarriagesupport.org.au.]
The past few years have been filled with some incredible highs and very painful lows for you. One of the highs, of course, was meeting your husband on the set of Home and Away when you joined the show in 2017. What did you think of him when you first met?
I Googled him before I met him. I was in LA at the time and they called me for a chemistry read with him. So I Googled him and … [Roberts gasps]. I thought he was so hot.
The two of you are now bunkered down with your stepdaughter in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis. How are you faring?
It has been nice to bond with the family. My heart goes out to the medical heroes who are on the frontline, and the people who have contracted it.
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Scout spends a lot of time with you and James. How would you describe your relationship with her?
I actually asked her this morning what she thought our relationship was like [laughs]. And she said, “Well, Sarah, I think our relationship is based on love and absorbination.”
And I said, “What’s that?” Then she said, “It’s absorbing all the moments we share together and the ideas we have together and the love we share.”
She’s got a massive heart and I think we’re both lucky to have each other in our lives.
She became your stepdaughter when you and James were married last July in Ireland, surrounded by loved ones.
It was like a fairytale. We had all of our family and close friends there with us and we got married in a castle. My brother [Karl De Abrew] walked me down the aisle. Scout was a flower girl.
Having your brother walk you down the aisle would have been special given that the reason you were married in Ireland was because he lived there at the time and was too ill to travel [De Abrew passed away six months ago]. What can you tell us about him?
It’s such a privilege to talk about him; I don’t think there’ll be enough pages [laughs]. For me, he was more than my brother. He was my best friend and like a dad to me, I miss him every day. He guided me through everything in life and I still feel like he does.
I stay up late at night and talk to him. I don’t want his life to be defined by his death because that’s what was inspiring about him – he had an amazing life.
How is married life?
Jimmy always says “Yeah, we’re still married!” [laughs]. Who would’ve imagined we’d experience everything we’ve experienced in our first year of marriage? Two miscarriages, my brother passing away and now we’re in lockdown. It’s a lot. But it’s brought us closer and made us stronger as a unit.
How did you both react when you found out you were pregnant?
The first time, we didn’t see it coming because I was on the pill for a long time. I’d just come off the pill and my boobs started getting sore. I thought, “Hmm, this is weird. Maybe I’ll pee on a stick.”
I saw the two pink lines and we were super-excited, but I don’t think I comprehended it was happening. It was only when we lost the baby that I realised how much I wanted it.
The second time we fell pregnant was a month after Karl passed away, and for me it felt like he was looking after me again. It’s like he went upstairs and asked, “Can you make my sister happy?”
There was no doubt in my mind we were not going to lose this one. We went to the eight-week scan and there was a heartbeat, and the doctors kept saying it was really strong and there was nothing to worry about.
It was only when I went to the 12-week scan – alone, because I was so confident everything was going to be OK – that’s when the nurse … and you can tell because her voice gets small and gentle, and she was searching around for a bit longer. I said, “There’s no heartbeat, is there?” She said, “Unfortunately not.”
How did you say goodbye to your babies?
Jimmy came up with a really beautiful ritual. We bought a frangipani tree for each child and we had a ceremony outside on our balcony.
We wrote letters to our children when we found out we were pregnant and had the ultrasound photos so we burnt those and mixed it into the soil.
If you don’t mind sharing, what did you name your children?
That’s a really great question because Jimmy and I, when we were talking to them, we’d call them Mowgli [from The Jungle Book]. Because that’s how we pictured them to be – little and brown with black hair. So there’d be times when I’d be having morning sickness and I’d rub my tummy and say, “It’s OK, Mowgli.”
How are you doing now?
I go up and down. In terms of having children, I still want them and I feel I’ve come a long way – I don’t want to punch pregnant women anymore [laughs]. Oh, c’mon, I’d never do that, but it’s unfortunately a side effect of miscarriage. Jealousy is a vicious beast.
My body took three months to recover, and it’s just now going back to its normal shape. Mentally, I feel more in control. It’s painful and it’ll grab your heart in ways you can’t imagine, but what I’ve learnt with grief is to just sit with it.
It’s important to acknowledge a father’s grief, too. How is James doing?
He’s been so strong. I don’t know how he does it sometimes. With things like this, it’s really important to ask questions like you have because people do forget about the partner.
Yes, as a woman, your body changes and you’re feeling that loss physically, but your partner can feel helpless. Maybe they want to be strong because they’re hurting. You need to give each other space and check in with each other and realise you grieve differently.
Last year, Stellar implemented a policy to no longer ask celebrities if they intend to have children. What do you think of the policy?
I think it’s great. After Jimmy and I got married, at every event we went to, that’s all journalists asked. “When are you going to have children?” We were trying and we’d just had a miscarriage, and I was this close to breaking down on the red carpet.
Women, men and couples will tell their stories when they’re ready.
One message of your letter is that a woman who miscarries is still a mother. Do you have specific memories of your pregnancies you treasure?
I had a really beautiful moment after our first miscarriage. I was on set and had to do an emotional scene, and I just couldn’t find it that day. Ironically, I wasn’t feeling sad [laughs].
I thought, “How am I going to do this?” And as I was sitting, I dropped my right arm and closed my eyes and a little boy with dark hair came up next to me with a frangipani behind his ear and said “It’s OK, Mummy, you can do this.” [Tears up].
Like my brother, I know they’re up there. But I feel them. I feel them around.
SARAH’S LETTER
Dear Grieving Mummy,
It’s Mother’s Day and here you are, a mother without her baby. Your motherhood might be going unrecognised by the world around you, especially while the country is in the grip of a global pandemic.
However, you know better – and so do I. While it may not have been for long enough, you held your baby in your womb, maybe even in your arms, or perhaps you got to stroke his head as you laid him to rest for the last time. And that, most certainly, makes you a mother.
Then, now, and always.
Just as you watched those two pink lines appear in the once blank space of a pregnancy test, you felt the presence of life in the once empty space of your womb. Love was born as you saw and felt the evidence of new life within you.
You flipped through the calendar to determine when your baby would arrive, and you wondered if you would have a boy or a girl.
You imagined holding that caramel, or pink, or mocha-coloured, or perhaps even porcelain, fleshy baby in your arms – a baby who belonged only to you and your partner.
Your fingers would graze those little chubby cheeks as you gazed into eyes that were a perfect mishmash of yours and the one you married. You pictured the day you’d bring your baby home from the hospital, and then all the days that would come after that.
You made plans. Plans to announce your pregnancy and turn the spare room into a nursery. Plans for a baby shower and maybe even one of those corny gender reveals.
You created a birth plan and a schedule for your own mummy to come and visit your beautiful newborn.
And as you planned, your imagination ran wild. You envisioned your baby’s first steps and first words. Perhaps the precious day their siblings or step-siblings would cuddle them for the first time. So many “firsts”.
You pictured your baby’s first Christmas and first birthday. No doubt these events would leave you with some of the best memories of your life. There would be a series of first days of school, in which you would note your child’s growth from one year to the next.
And there would be the very last day of school as your little one would step out of childhood and into adulthood. You fantasised about your child’s wedding and them having their own babies.
But your plans fell through the moment your baby’s heart stopped beating, and your imagination went blank as you realised your baby was gone. You were forced into a life in which dreams crumbled before they even had the chance to be built.
I’m not sure when it happened; when grief became the central theme of your life. Maybe it was in the first trimester, or the second, or the third. Maybe it happened before your baby was born, or maybe it happened 45 years later.
But while your baby’s life was stolen from you, it does not change the fact that you are a mother. Your baby’s life was real. And so is your motherhood.
The world might fool you into thinking your motherhood is less significant than that of those who mother living children. It might make you believe that your creation of life is less significant than the baby whose life outlasts his or her parents.
But I’m here to tell you, from one grieving mother to another, it’s just not true. You will always be a mother to the baby who is no longer here. Your baby’s life will always have a place in history.
After all, a life that has caused even just one person to love is a life well-lived. And I know your baby lived a good life by bringing more love to your life than you ever thought possible.
You’ve earned the title of “mother” by loving your baby then, now and always.
So, on this day of celebrating mothers, I celebrate you and your motherhood. Your baby’s life may have been too short and just as fleeting, but your love remains. Isn’t that what motherhood is? Loving always, even when it hurts.
With that being said …
Love always, Sarah
* For more feature stories from stellar magazine, go to stellarmag.com.au