SINGAPORE – Theirs is a marriage strengthened by tragedy.

Ms Benecia Ng, 38, and Mr Ernest Yeo, 40, lost two children within three years.

In 2018, their son died hours after he was born and, in 2021, Ms Ng suffered a miscarriage.

The couple have two other children, but pregnancy and childbirth have always been the biggest tests of their marriage.

Ms Ng, a stay-at-home mother, had a difficult 35-hour labour when she had her first child, Vanna, in 2016. The baby girl was in distress and Ms Ng, feverish and weakened, passed out shortly after delivery.

She ended up spending a week in the hospital with bladder problems. “The experience made me fearful of giving birth, but we didn’t want to stop at one child,” she says.

Two years later, she was with child again. But a routine ultrasound scan in the 12th week of pregnancy dealt a devastating blow. The gynaecologist told her that her son had no skull.

The foetus had acrania – a rare, neural tube defect in which the skull partially or completely fails to form. The chances of the baby’s survival were zero if he were to be born, said the doctor.

Stunned, Ms Ng and her husband, a teacher, asked if there had been a mistake. After absorbing the news, she was determined to carry the baby to term, even though she was only in her first trimester.

“I could hear his strong heartbeat. It felt like he was fighting for his life,” she recalls.

The couple named their child Elkan, a name with Hebrew origins that means “God creates”.

Ms Ng and Mr Yeo had met in a cell group at church a few years before they wed in 2015. Their faith, family and friends would support them in the months to come.

“Life and death are not in our control. Even though Elkan was a foetus, he is part of our family. Our faith gave us the strength to continue,” says Ms Ng, adding that she held onto the slightest sliver of hope.

She dived deep into researching the condition. Though the mortality rate for acrania is almost 100 per cent – most babies with the condition are stillborn or newborns die within hours or days – Ms Ng also read that there was a baby with acrania who lived for more than two years after her skull was reconstructed by surgeons.

At her request, KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital arranged for a neurosurgeon to be on standby at Elkan’s birth, to assess if such a procedure was possible. The hospital also arranged for paediatric palliative counselling sessions.

The lead-up to the birth was excruciating. “There were lots of tears. I coped by crying and pouring out my raw thoughts to Ernest,” she says.

Mr Yeo often did not know what to say. “I could not fully understand what she was going through as a mother. So many times, it was praying with her and simply being there for her. I needed to support her and felt that I could not break down emotionally.”

People congratulated her as her baby bump grew, but she was torn inside. Not everyone could handle the truth about Elkan when she told them, so she sometimes simply just thanked them.

She bought a romper for a newborn, but also inquired about infant funeral services. Friends and relatives helped by preparing meals and taking care of their daughter, which gave the couple space and time to be together.

In the days before Elkan was born at 40 weeks via natural childbirth, the couple were so overwhelmed by their emotions that they could only “blank out” by watching television.

When the boy arrived after 12 hours of labour, Ms Ng exclaimed at how cute he was. “He had my nose.”

The hours after his birth were buzzing with activity as his parents cuddled him, sang and spoke to him, and prayed for him with his grandparents present. A photographer snapped pictures.

The miracle they were hoping for did not come. Elkan died six hours later.

Mr Yeo says: “We told him that we were very proud of him, that we love him and that there are many people who love him. We told him it was not goodbye and that we would meet him in heaven.”

They had another son, Raphael, in March 2020, who is now two. Vanna is now six.

In June 2021, Ms Ng had a miscarriage in her 16th week of pregnancy, when a scan revealed the baby no longer had a heartbeat.

“It was devastating. The first word that came out was ‘Again?’ ” she says. “I wanted closure, so we had a cremation service for the foetus.”

But the emotions that Mr Yeo had blocked out in the past few years – after Elkan’s death and now with the miscarriage – overflowed, he says.

He was unable to function or pay attention to his wife and children. He took two weeks off work, spending hours in silence by himself, taking long walks at East Coast Park.

It was Ms Ng’s turn to support him, as he had done for her before.

While their marriage has been put through the grind, loss and grief have made it stronger.

Mr Yeo admires the courage his wife has demonstrated. He says: “We always think the best of each other now.”

Previously, Ms Ng says, she found it hard to accept their differences, even about something as trivial as how best to squeeze toothpaste out.

After communicating deeply as they faced issues of life and death, she has learnt to fully embrace their differences.

“Together, we are stronger. I find myself having more love, trust and respect for my husband. He truly honoured his marriage vows,” she says.

This article was first published in The Straits Times. Permission required for reproduction.