Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are proud parents of two beautiful children who were recently given the right to carry royal titles, that of a prince and a princess.
They welcomed their first child, Archie, while they were still working royals. The little one was born at The Portland Hospital in London on May 6, 2019. However, even before he was welcomed into the world, Archie found himself in a middle of a controversy when his parents gave Oprah an interview during which they revealed that a senior royal questioned his color.
When Archie was born, Harry wasn’t much interested in revealing details surrounding the birth of the baby. However, he was forced into sharing with the people that Archie arrived into the world due to the breach of the “unwritten contract between the royals and the public.”
Harry and Meghan posed with him in front of the Portland Hospital in London, where he was born, as is the tradition.
“Today The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are delighted to shаrе their first public moment as a family,” the Sussexes wrote.
Although both Prince Harry and Prince William, as well as many other members of the royal family, including William’s children, were born at St Mary’s Hospital, the Sussexes chose not to give birth to Archie there.
“He and Meghan were thrilled to be safely delivered of their son in London’s private Portland hospital even before the palace press office had confirmed the duchess was in labor.”
In her book The New Royals: Queen Elizabeth’s Legacy and the Future of the Crown, author Katie Nicholl described Harry as “almost morbidly obsessed” with keeping Archie’s birth as secretive as possible.
“Behind the scenes, matters were so fraught that more than one official — as I know from personal experience — was reduced to tears of frustration and despair,” Rebecca English, royal editor of the Daily Mail, added.
Now, with the family residing in the States, they don’t need to worry about cameras or paparazzi photographers that much, nor they are forced to post photos of their children on their birthdays, as it is with the royal family’s tradition.
They also shаrеd photos of the little one meeting his great-grandma, Queen Elizabeth, for the first time.
Later, as Archie grew a bit, Harry and Meghan took a trip to South Africa where they met Archbishop Desmond Tutu. “Thank you Archbishop Tutu for your incredibly warm hospitality, Archie loved meeting you!” they wrote on Instagram along with a series of photos of their son.
Except for that, they have tried keeping both their children out of the spotlight as much as possible.
However, that changed when the Netflix documentary about Harry and Meghan, consisting of six episodes, aired.
In the documentary series, Meghan explained how she was anxious about what might happen the day her baby boy was born.
“There was already the pressure of the picture on the steps. … But I had been really worried going into that labor because I’m older, I didn’t know if I’d have to have a c-section, and I had a very longstanding relationship with my doctor, and that’s who I trusted with my pregnancy,” she said.
On Sunday, June 6, 2021, the Sussexes welcomed their baby daughter, Lilibet Diana. The couple were eager to pay tribute to Lili’s great-grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II whose nickname as a child was Lilibet, and her grandmother, Princess Diana.
However, experts claimed at the time that the Queen wasn’t happy with the choice of the name. Further, they claimed choosing that name was “disrespectful.”
“Even naming this child sparked a diplomatic scuffle. Hating even to think about the admittedly labyrinthine rules of protocol that surrounded the British royal family, Meghan, and Harry called her Lilibet, apparently in the belief that it would be a wonderful surprise for her great-grandmother, Queen Elizabeth,” royal expert Tom Quinn wrote in his book Gilded Youth An Intimate History of Growing Up in the Royal Family.
“That Harry did not have the sense to predict that this would cause trouble is beyond belief. He surely would have known that appropriating the monarch’s beloved childhood nickname would be perceived by many as disrespectful and intrusive in a way that naming their daughter Elizabeth would have not been.”
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“The Queen may well have been upset that her grandson and his family laid claim to the intimate nickname that had always been very much part of the Queen’s private life, but it is perhaps more likеly that the flunkeys who surround the monarch and some of the starchier older royals were irritated by what they saw as a presumption.”
Before Lili was born, Meghan fell pregnant in 2020, but she suffered miscarriage.
At one point, Meghan opened up about the heartbreak she and Prince Harry experienced after losing the baby.
She shаrеd a powerful essay on grief after miscarriage written for The New York Times, The Losses We Share, which touched many.
“Losing a child means carrying an almost unbearable grief, experienced by many but talked about by few,” the 39-year-old Duchess explained.
“I felt a sharp cramp. I dropped to the floor with him in my arms, humming a lullaby to keep us both calm, the cheerful tune a stark contrast to my sense that something was not right.
“I knew, as I clutched my firstborn child, that I was losing my second.
“Hours later, I lay in a hospital bed, holding my husband’s hand. I felt the clamminess of his palm and kissed his knuckles, wet from both our tears. Staring at the cold white walls, my eyes glazed over. I tried to imagine how we’d heal.”
Even today, when the anniversary of her miscarriage approaches, Meghan feels the same pain.
“She feels so blessed to have Archie and Lili and the family she and Harry have created. But naturally, as the anniversary of her miscarriage approaches, she does have sadness. The date is very poignant for her,” a person close to her told OK!.
“But Meghan is always looking towards the future and is just so grateful for the happiness she has in her life with Harry and the kids.”
She wants her children to understand that “mummies work as well.” At the same time, “Her family life will always come first, she will fit work in around the children’s schedules so she is there for them when they need her and she just wants to make the most of and cherish every moment with them as they grow up,” the source explained.
Meghan doesn’t want to be away from her children for a longer period of time and that is one of the reasons why she and Harry made a decision to take their children with them when traveling abroad in the future.
“Meghan doesn’t likе being away from her children as she doesn’t want to miss a thing with them growing up so fast,” a source told OK!.
“With Lili turning three, it’s really got Meghan and Harry thinking about their future and how quickly the children are growing up. Meghan especially feels that her babies are no longer babies, and likе most mums, it makes her slightly sad and wistful that the baby years have come to an end.”
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I OPENED THE DOOR ON HALLOWEEN — I SAW A LITTLE GIRL IN THE DRESS MY MISSING HUSBAND HAD SEWN FOR OUR DAUGHTER.
The crisp autumn air held the familiar scent of woodsmoke and decaying leaves, a bittersweet reminder of Halloweens past. This year, the porch light flickered erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that mirrored the unease gnawing at my heart. Carl, my husband, had vanished six months ago, leaving behind a void that no amount of pumpkin-spice lattes or spooky decorations could fill.
Halloween had always been our holiday. Carl, with his nimble fingers and love for theatrics, would craft elaborate costumes for our daughter, Emily. This year, I’d tried my best, piecing together a fairy princess outfit from store-bought materials. Emily, bless her heart, had pretended to be thrilled, but the absence of Carl’s handcrafted magic was palpable.
I sent Emily off with her friends, a pang of guilt mixed with a desperate need for her to experience some semblance of normalcy. Then, I settled in for the night, a bowl of candy beside me, the silence of the house amplified by the approaching darkness.
The first ring of the doorbell was a jolt, a sudden intrusion into my solitude. “Trick or treat!” a chorus of small voices echoed. I opened the door, a forced smile plastered on my face.
And then, I froze.
Standing before me was a little girl, no older than Emily, dressed in a familiar outfit. A vibrant red coat, with a bouncy, midnight-blue cape, fastened with a silver clasp shaped like a crescent moon. It was the exact design Carl had created for Emily’s fifth Halloween. The same fabric, the same intricate stitching, the same whimsical details. My breath hitched.
“That’s a beautiful costume you have, sweetheart,” I managed, my voice trembling. “Where did you get it?”
The little girl beamed, her eyes sparkling with innocent pride. “My dad made it!”
The world tilted. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Yet, the costume was undeniably Carl’s handiwork. A cold dread seeped into my bones, mingling with a flicker of desperate hope.
“Sweetheart, where’s your house?” I asked, kneeling down, trying to steady my voice. “I’d love to ask your dad how he made such a lovely costume.”
The girl pointed down the street, towards a row of dimly lit houses. “It’s the yellow one with the big oak tree.”
“Thank you, darling,” I said, handing her a handful of candy. “Have a happy Halloween.”
I closed the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. I couldn’t just let this go. I grabbed my keys, a trembling hand dialing Emily’s friend’s mother. “Can you keep Emily a little longer?” I asked, my voice strained. “I have to… run an errand.”
I drove down the street, the yellow house with the big oak tree looming in the darkness. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow on the Halloween decorations. I parked down the block, my hands clammy.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the driveway. The doorbell chimed, a cheerful melody that felt grotesquely out of place.
The door opened, revealing a woman with tired eyes and a kind smile. “Trick or treaters already?” she asked, her voice warm.
“I’m sorry, I’m not here for candy,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “My name is Sarah. I saw your daughter’s costume. It… it looks like one my husband used to make.”
The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh, that? My husband made it. He’s very talented.”
“Could I… could I see him?” I asked, my voice cracking.
The woman hesitated, then stepped aside. “Of course. He’s in the garage.”
I followed her through the house, my footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The garage door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. I pushed it open.
And there he was.
Carl.
He was sitting at a workbench, surrounded by rolls of fabric and spools of thread. He looked different, thinner, his eyes shadowed. But it was him.
“Carl?” I whispered, my voice thick with tears.
He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. “Sarah?”
The woman, standing behind me, gasped. “You know her?”
“She’s… she’s my wife,” Carl said, his voice hoarse.
The woman’s face crumpled. “But… you told me…”
“I know,” Carl said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
The story that unfolded was a tangled web of amnesia, guilt, and a desperate attempt to start over. Carl had been in a car accident six months ago, suffering a head injury that wiped his memory clean. He had wandered, lost and confused, until he found himself in this town, where the woman, a widow, had taken him in. They had fallen in love, built a life together, a life built on a lie.
He had no recollection of me, of Emily, of our life together. The costume, he explained, was a subconscious echo of his past, a skill he had retained without knowing why.
The woman, her heart broken, understood. She knew she couldn’t keep him. She knew he belonged with me, with Emily.
The reunion was bittersweet. Carl, a stranger in his own life, struggled to reconcile the man he was with the man he had become. Emily, though overjoyed to have her father back, was confused by his distant demeanor.
It was a long, arduous process, filled with tears, frustration, and tentative steps forward. We rebuilt our life, piece by piece, like Carl’s costumes, stitching together fragments of the past with the threads of the present.
Halloween, once a symbol of our lost happiness, became a symbol of our resilience. We learned that even in the darkest of times, hope can flicker like a porch light, guiding us home.
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