Ivette’s Story

Our Story of Loss, Faith, and a Rainbow Promise

Getting pregnant was not easy for us.

For five years we prayed, hoped, cried, and questioned. Month after month of negative tests slowly chips away at your heart. We did fertility medications and walked through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with them. It wasn’t simple or quick. It was years of surrendering our timeline to God.

Adelynn Rose Cervantes was conceived spontaneously after taking letrozole. After five years of trying, she felt like a miracle because she was.

My pregnancy with her felt precious from the beginning. Every milestone mattered. Every appointment was sacred. I carried gratitude and anxiety at the same time, but mostly I carried hope.

At 22 weeks pregnant, everything changed.

I went into the hospital feeling contractions. I never imagined I was already 5 centimeters dilated. I was admitted and diagnosed with an insufficient cervix. The words felt unreal. I remember thinking, Lord, please not this. Not now.

At 22 weeks and 5 days, on September 20, 2024, I delivered our daughter.

Adelynn Rose Cervantes.

She was tiny. Beautiful. Stronger than anyone could have imagined. She went to the NICU and fought with everything she had. Watching her fight was both inspiring and heartbreaking. She was our warrior.

For a time, she was stable. We allowed ourselves to believe in miracles. And then sepsis came.

We prayed harder than we ever had in our lives. We begged God for healing. But she stopped responding to medication.

There are no words for the moment you realize your baby won’t be coming home.

The birthing and loss experience changed me forever. There is a silence in grief that no one prepares you for. I held her. I memorized her face. I tried to freeze time. Every second with her was holy.

The doctors explained insufficient cervix as the reason for my early labor. Having a reason didn’t take away the pain, but it gave us some understanding. It meant this wasn’t random. It meant we could prepare differently in the future.

After losing Adelynn, my emotions were raw and unpredictable. I was devastated. Angry. Confused. Jealous. Numb. Faithful and questioning all at once. I loved God, but I wrestled with Him too. Grief and faith coexisted in my heart.

Some people showed up beautifully. Others didn’t know what to say. Loss makes people uncomfortable. But I learned that true support isn’t about having the right words it’s about being present.

For a long time, I didn’t know if I could try again. I was terrified of reliving that trauma. But slowly, hope began to whisper again. I realized that trying again wouldn’t replace Adelynn. She is irreplaceable. It would simply mean our love was still growing.

Now we are pregnant with our second baby girl, Analeia Celeste Cervantes.

She was conceived completely naturally after I truly believed I might never conceive naturally. That alone feels like a gift straight from Heaven.

Because of my previous preterm labor, I had a cervical cerclage placed to prevent it from happening again. Walking into that procedure was emotional. It felt like reliving trauma and fighting for protection at the same time. But this time, we are proactive. This time, we are covering every step in prayer.

This pregnancy is different. It is layered. I carry joy and fear in the same breath. Every appointment feels like holding my breath until I hear her heartbeat. Every week that passes feels like grace.

Analeia is our rainbow but she does not replace the storm.

Adelynn Rose made me a mother. She made me stronger. She deepened my faith in ways I never expected. She is not a chapter we close she is part of our foundation.

To remember Adelynn, we say her name. We speak about her openly and share her story with love. Every year on September 20th, we honor her life by delivering a gift basket to the hospital where she was born, blessing the first baby girl born that day in her memory. It’s our way of turning our pain into purpose and keeping her light shining.

We carry her in our prayers daily. She is our angel baby, and she will always be our first daughter.

If there is anything I want others to know about loss, it is this:

Your baby mattered.

No matter how many weeks.

No matter how small.

No matter how brief their life was.

Grief does not mean you lack faith. Questioning God does not mean you don’t love Him. And hoping again does not mean you forgot.

I am the mother of Adelynn Rose Cervantes.

I am the mother of Analeia Celeste Cervantes.

One I hold in heaven.

One I hold in my womb.

And both are miracles.