Mom who didn’t hold stillborn daughter on day of Japan quake finds freedom from guilt – The Mainichi – Inergency

Twenty-nine years ago, Yuko Nakajima, now 59, was preparing for the birth of her daughter. Her family was already calling the young life in her womb Piyo-chan, a name Nakajima’s 2-year-old son had made for her.

Nakajima had traveled to her parents’ home in Nagoya for the birth, but at 5:46 a.m. on Jan. 17, 1995, she was awoken by violent shaking from the Great Hanshin Earthquake focused in the south of the western Japan prefecture of Hyogo — a massive temblor that claimed over 6,000 lives. Nakajima’s grandmother was living in Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture. Nakajima wanted to confirm that her grandmother was all right, but the phone lines were down.

Concerned, Nakajima’s mother-in-law, who lived nearby, rushed to her parents’ house. As noon passed without her knowing whether her grandmother was safe, she noticed a strong tightening of her abdomen. Her parents cann’t drive, so her mother-in-law drove her to the hospital.

Nakajima got a checkup right away, but the midwife told her in a serious tone, “We can’t detect a heartbeat.” Nakajima had suffered a placental abruption, where the placenta separates from the lining of the uterus with bleeding before the completion of the second stage of labor.

The attending doctor then informed her, “We’re sorry to say the baby has died. And your life is in danger too.”

Her mind went blank. She signed the surgery consent form while lying on the examination table.

When she awoke several hours later, she was in a hospital bed. Her parents looked at her with worried faces. The first words that came out of her mouth were, “I’m sorry.”

“Piyo-chan, I’m sorry for letting you die.” “I’m sorry for causing sadness and disappointment to everyone who was looking forward to her arrival.”

‘Do you want to hold her?’

The following day, a nurse asked her, “Do you want to hold your baby who has passed away?”

“I do,” Nakajima thought, but her husband said with a pained expression, “The hurt of seeing that will linger in your memory, so let’s not.” She complied without much consideration, but she was tormented by the decision for a long time.

There wasn’t a day that went by without Nakajima thinking of Piyo-chan. Fortunately, her grandmother was confirmed safe.

Nakajima had been diagnosed with toxemia, a complication of pregnancy. She wondered whether she hadn’t properly grasped her condition’s severity, and thoughts and questions ran through her mind:

“I caused Piyo-chan to die.”

“Is it OK for me to be alive?”

She was racked with guilt.

Answers found

Nakajima realized that delivery was physically difficult for her. Taking the utmost care, she gave birth to her second son four years later, and 10 years on, to her eldest daughter.

When her toxemia symptoms worsened, she promptly checked into the hospital and gave birth through a cesarean section.

While busy raising her three children, she was searching for answers to her questions: “What was the meaning of Piyo-chan’s life?” “Why did she return to the heavens on the day of the Great Hanshin Earthquake?”

After 20 years, Nakajima finally found her own “answers.”

On that fateful day, her mother-in-law had rushed to her parents’ home because of the earthquake. It was at that moment that Nakajima felt her abdomen clench. Because her mother-in-law was with her and can drive, she was able to get to the hospital immediately.

With her pregnancy, her life was also in danger. If her mother-in-law hadn’t been there, it might have been too late. If she had died, her son might have lost his mother at the age of 2. Realizing this, a weight lifted from her chest. Piyo-chan’s fate had already been determined. “She chose that day to save the life of her mommy. Piyo-chan kept me alive,” Nakajima thought.

With her husband, who had stopped her from holding her stillborn daughter, she cried together more than ever over their daughter’s death. She feels that the time they sowed together with tears reaped a stronger relationship. Her feelings of guilt began to ease.

“It was very hard,” she said, “but Piyo-chan saved my life and taught me several important feelings as a human being, such as sadness, suffering, and conflict.”

In the spring of 2022, her illness worsened and surgery was deemed necessary. Nakajima felt she had been confronted by the reality that life is limited. Having almost finished raising her children, she felt she wanted to convey to them in writing the “important things” that Piyo-chan taught her.

She wrote her thoughts candidly and in commemoration, submitted them to a writing contest. Afterwards, she was contacted by a publisher. Fortunately, her illness subsided, and she was able to avoid surgery.

In October 2023, her autobiography “Tengoku no Piyo-chan kara no Okurimono” (Gifts from Piyochan in heaven) was completed and published by Bungeisha under the pen name Komorebiyu.

When the book that held all her feelings for Piyo-chan within it arrived, she hugged it tightly. She was overcome with unexpected emotion.

“I finally felt like I was holding Piyochan in my arms,” she recalled.

Online gathering with readers

Since the work was published, Nakajima has received several comments, especially from women who have also experienced miscarriages or stillbirths.

Drawing from her experience with Piyo-chan, Nakajima entered the graduate school of Hamamatsu University (now Tokoha University) in Shizuoka Prefecture when she was in her 40s and studied clinical psychology. Putting her expertise to use, she opened a salon called “Tiny Stars” in Hamamatsu, where people gather and can talk about their experiences.

In response to readers’ comments, she also started an online forum called “Piyo-chan Salon,” where people can share their thoughts. Inquiries about the salon can be made through the official Komorebiyu newsletter at

“Tengoku no Piyo-chan kara no Okurimono” is available for purchase on Amazon and other platforms.

(Japanese original by Yuka Obuno, Digital News Group)