There are parts of our story that still feel hard to put into words. Not because I don’t want to share them, but because they are sacred to me. Our story holds deep joy, deep loss, and the faithfulness of God in ways I never would have chosen — but have seen so clearly. This is the story of our son, Ezra, and the road that led us to his sister, Alora.
My husband, Alan, and I did not struggle with long-term infertility, but we did try for a full year before becoming pregnant with Ezra on January 28th, 2024. The day we found out we were pregnant, I had just talked to my dad about it being a full year since we started trying and possibly going to get testing done to see if I was infertile. He told me to “wait on the Lord.” That evening, I took a random pregnancy test, and it was positive.
Our first pregnancy with Ezra was pure bliss. I had weird cravings like pickles and cream cheese. I hated coffee and Chick-fil-A, which I normally loved. By the end of pregnancy, all I wanted was a blonde vanilla latte from Starbucks. I was very swollen the entire pregnancy. By 12 weeks, I couldn’t wear my wedding rings, and we now think I had undiagnosed gestational diabetes (which I did have during our rainbow pregnancy).
To this day, we still do not have a clear reason as to why Ezra passed. I was 41+4 when I finally went into labor. I labored nearly 12 hours at home during our planned home birth when we lost his heartbeat. There were less than 10 minutes between it beating and it not. Most medical professionals believe it was my placenta failing.
Our birth and loss experience were peaceful and beautiful. Most people think I am crazy for saying that, how can the loss of your child be both peaceful and beautiful? But they were, for me. When we lost his heartbeat, it felt like the whole world stopped spinning for him, not just ours. I was in labor for almost 18 hours, pushing for 2–3 of those.
Our hospital was equipped with a cuddle cot (a cooling bassinet) that allowed Ezra to stay in the room with us. We spent that night and the next morning holding him and taking as many family pictures as we could. We memorized every inch of his perfect self.
Our medical team was phenomenal. The nurse who bathed and cared for Ezra that first night was also present at our daughter Alora’s birth. She actually delivered her because the doctor didn’t get there in time. That felt like something only the Lord could orchestrate.
We had so much support from friends and family after Ezra. Our church raised funds so my husband could be home and grieve. His employer continued paying him while he was gone. We made new friends who became family along the way.
I was, and still am, very angry after losing Ezra. I’ve felt every emotion possible throughout this process.
At first, I didn’t think I would ever try again. In the hospital, I told my husband and our families that I wouldn’t put us through the risk of loss again. But after some time passed, I knew in my heart that I did want to try again. I knew Ezra deserved to see his parents with his siblings, even if he wasn’t physically here for it.
Alora’s pregnancy started off, and stayed, very traumatizing and scary. There was never a day I wasn’t afraid. But her pregnancy also taught me so much. I learned to lean on and trust God more than ever before. I told myself the entire pregnancy that she would be okay, that she would make it earthside, and she did. I knew she would be our redemption.
We have many ways we honor and remember Ezra at home. There’s a nightlight beside his urn that gets turned on every night. I sleep with a bear from the hospital that wears one of his outfits. We sign his name on every card, and we never stop saying his name.
They say grief is love with no home, and it is so, so true. Don’t be afraid to call on family or friends. Invite them in to grieve with you and know that they usually hurt with you. I know it feels like there is no way you can survive it, but you can, and you will, even if it’s only for your babies.
The Lord is near.
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