However, Chantelle Jackson, a 24-year-old mum-of-two from West Drayton, Middlesex, revealed her and her husband finally found peace when they had his ashes turned into wedding rings.
Here, she tells Fabulous the tragic story behind the precious band on her finger…
The day the doctor turned to me and told me one of the twin boys I was carrying was dead was the worst of my life.
As I sat there pregnant on the hospital bed, just weeks before I was due to welcome my sons – and just under a year before they were due to witness me exchange rings with their father – all I could hear was a loud scream, before realising the painful howl was coming from me.
I was 33 weeks gone and my 30-year-old fiancé Dean, 30 – with whom I already shared one four-year-old daughter, Lillie – were ready to add to our little family.
We had been overjoyed when an early scan revealed not one, but two, heartbeats.
It was even more exciting because we had struggled to get pregnant after Lillie – and twins would complete us.
In preparation, we bought two Moses baskets, a double buggy and two sets of babygros ready for our new arrivals.
To top it off, we had booked our wedding day for ten months after the babies were due to be born, and I couldn't wait to have all three children with us on our big day – witnessing us say our vows to one another.
But when the doctor broke the dreadful news that day that we'd be a four, all I wanted to do was curl up with grief and cancel everything.
Earlier that day I had felt a sharp pain in my tummy – the first in an otherwise blissful pregnancy filled with routine hospital appointments and finding a wedding dress, sending out invites and planning the reception.
Something clearly wasn't right, and so Dean rushed me to hospital.
They performed a scan – I only had to look at the doctor’s face to know it wasn't good news.
"I’m afraid one twin didn’t make it," he explained.
I heard a loud scream, and it took me a moment to realise it was me that was howling.
One minute I’d been carrying two healthy boys. The next, one was dead inside me.
The shock sent me into premature labour the next day.
I gave birth to one healthy twin who arrived kicking and crying, and we called him Chase.
Then I gave birth to his brother. But instead of the kicking and crying I so longed for, there was just stillness and silence. We named him Riley.
Dean and I cuddled both babies. But it was the most bittersweet moment of our lives – one twin would come home with us, the other would not.
To make matters worse, tests afterwards showed there had been nothing wrong with Riley. It was a complete mystery why he had died and his brother had lived.
When Chase was strong enough, we brought him home.
I told Dean to get rid of the extra Moses basket and babygros, and swap the double buggy for a single one.
I didn’t want any of it to remind me that there should have been two gurgling twins to love.
After Riley's funeral, I fell into despair. I carried on for Lily and Chase who needed me, but the thought of walking down the aisle and saying our vows seemed impossible.
It felt impossible to celebrate when we’d lost our beloved son.
But a few weeks later, we received Riley’s ashes and in that moment we realised how we could still marry and have him with us.
There was a leaflet we’d been given at the funeral home which explained how a company called Ashes into Glass made beautiful jewellery from loved ones’ ashes.
We ordered a wedding ring each to be made from Riley’s ashes – gold with blue glass, inside which he would sit forever.
When they arrived a few weeks later, I broke down in tears at how beautiful they were. Slipping it onto my finger, I finally felt peace after so long.
In March last year, Dean and I married, and as we said our vows and exchanged our rings, we felt our little boy was there too.
Now, as I’m busy caring for Lillie, now five, and Chase, 18 months, I make sure I never take my wedding ring off and neither does Dean. It's a true sign that he is always with us.
Their story comes as we recently told you how a mum-of-three is aiming to empower other women by showing off her stretch marks and cellulite on Instagram.
Earlier today, we told how a woman was raped by her dad from the age of four.
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