“Valour was our rainbow baby, after trying for more than six years. When it finally happened, I had stopped waiting and then there he was…”

Every story has a beginning, but not every story has a fairytale happy ending. Sometimes the ending doesn’t make sense. Unlike most our uplifting stories, I will offer a disclaimer that mine is sad, but still infused with hope, love and a personal miracle.

The year was 2018. Valour was our rainbow baby, after trying for more than six years. When it finally happened, I had stopped waiting and then there he was! I remember a missed period, a positive pregnancy test, and a sense of amazement. I had the joy of figuring out how to surprise my husband with the good news we had both waited for. It is safe to say, we were more shocked than happy because it felt too surreal. It’s worth noting the year before, there was a miscarriage after only a week of knowing. We were cautious, hopeful and very excited to see what happened next.

The short story is that it was a joyful time filled with turbulence, wonder but really bad luck. I was healthy and so was my baby. I was impacted by a common UTI (Urinary tract infection), which took too long to get the proper treatment due to overwhelmed staff and medical neglence. It cost us everything and almost cost me my life. But, despite the pressure from doctors to abort, I decided to give my son a chance. He was fighting so hard and he was unbelievably strong. But in the end, he lost his battle. Words can’t express this type of situation. It’s sad, unfortunate, upsetting and soul-crushing. I have never been able to make sense of the all the bad that happened, so the long story is how I choose to remember it; a blessing I would have rather had than to have never loved and lost. A lot of good that came from bad.

So here is the long story and the positive side of the story…

“My life literally went from gray, cloudy and cold to rainbows, sunshine and warmth. Something amazing happened to my heart and my body after becoming pregnant…”

From the day we found out we were pregnant, our life was showered with blessing. As a woman, many of us wait for the day they will become a mother. The day you find out you have life growing in your womb is confirming, joyful and life-changing. My life literally went from gray, cloudy and cold to rainbows, sunshine and warmth. Something amazing happened to my heart and my body after becoming pregnant.

I felt an immediate connection with my baby. My cautiousness kept me from feeling entitled to the experience. I didn’t start planning our life out, picking names, painting a room and buying baby clothes. I just took it one day at a time and await the milestones. The first milestone was my favorite… hearing his heartbeat. Techincally it was the six-week ultrasound. My husband asked the nurse, “So, you can find a strong heartbeat”. I remember her response as she looked at him with strong conviction, “Oh yeah! There is a strong heartbeat there for SURE!”. It was a huge vote of confidence for us. My husband beamed with joy and really felt like a father after that.

“Not only was there a connection between baby and I, but a strong connection between baby and daddy. I still get goosebumps today thinking how beautiful that moment was. This is Valour, our son!”

We watched him “grow” in a phone app that showed each day what baby would be doing at that day of gestation; growth, activity in the womb, etc. It was really fun for us. Our marriage began to fuse even stronger than it ever had. When you create life, you both mature as one even more.

The second strongest memory of joy I have is when the baby’s heartbeat was strong enough for us both to hear at home with our heartbeat monitor. I was about 8 weeks along and had been checking every night. At first, I remember feeling disappointed because articles I read said at 8 weeks is the first time you may be able to hear the heartbeat yourself, but I couldn’t find it. I wasn’t worried, just impatient. My husband placed his hand on my womb, and like a dream the sound of Valour’s heartbeat suddenly immerged. It was distant at first, but quickly surfaced loud and strong beneath his hand. I remember feeling shocked. Not only was there a connection between baby and I, but a strong connection between baby and daddy. I still get goosebumps today thinking how beautiful that moment was. This is Valour, our son!

Around week 9 along, I was not-so-blessed with lots of morning sickness. This lasted into my second trimester, unfortunately. I was just one of those “lucky women” to have morning sickness their whole pregnancy. Looking back, I didn’t mind because when hormone levels are so high and strong, it can make you feel sick. It was just a very healthy pregnancy (hormone-wise), which gave me reassurance on some odd level. Each ultrasound Valour looked so healthy, so big. I was amazed by him. We were weeks away from finding out the gender. I was thrilled.

I held on to memories from the ultrasounds of him “waving” to us, which made the doctor laugh. He sucked his thumb at one point. He was very calm on ultrasounds. I remember one visit he was sleeping during the ultrasound, curled up on his side. The nurse was trying to provoke him to lay on his back so she could run some tests. He kept moving back to his side and didn’t want to be bothered. All he wanted to do was sleep and suck his thumb. It was absolutely precious! Then the big moment came. The ultrasound had him on his back, and amazingly his lifted his little hand to press up against the amniotic sac. Unbelievable! So animated. So sweet. What a cute little guy!

Of course, this is where the story takes a turn, which is hard to hear. It was Mother’s day, I was visiting family. We were all on cloud nine; they never thought this day would come for us. My first Mother’s day as a mother! But, the next day, my waterbroke on our drive home. It was an eight+ hour drive. I was gushing water the whole time, terrified, crying. I knew something bad had happened. I was rushed to the ER, but it was pretty fruitless. No one knew what was happening. It was quite an emotional rollercoaster.

If I cling back to my silver-linings, they said he wouldn’t make 48 hours. It was a certain miscarriage, but he made it past every doom’s prediction they gave me. Evenutally, they just had me stay home and didn’t offer any futher help. I was 15 weeks pregnant. They didn’t consider the baby “viable” under 21 weeks. So, it was up to my husband and I to figure it out until then. Medications were not legally allowed to save unviable babies, only the mother. This is all another story for another time.

“I can’t describe how uplifting it was to see babies that had survived, when I was told there was no hope and abandoned. Suddenly, I felt like I was flying high.”

It was this when I discovered PPROM stories online. Our story gets positive again for a while. I can’t describe how uplifting it was to see babies that had survived, when I was told there was no hope and abandoned. Suddenly, I felt like I was flying high. I felt brave. I felt hopeful! We could beat this! We started working toward it.

However, the odds were against me because I still had an untreated UTI and a growing infection which my OB was off on vacation (one of many times she was always away). If I had gotten antibiotics in a timely manner, our story may be very different. As I later found out, PPROM risks greatly increase with infection during pregnancy. Since my water broke and the amniotic protective membrane was torn, my son was no longer protected against my infection and it entered the womb.

I did my best while I waited for antibiotics from my OB. I was on strict bedrest. I was calling every hosptial and clinic statewide and neighboring states to look for loopholes and to be admitted. No one would take us and we were told to stay home and wait until I crossed the threshold of 21 weeks– we were at 17 weeks.

“This was my miracle; I could not imagine not having those things. So, despite the tragic loss, I held a great sense of gratitude and joy to meet him.”

We lost our battle and my son passed two weeks after my water broke and no anitbiotic intervention was provided. The second disheartening event happened when we sought to have him delivered, now that his heartbeat was gone. I had not gone into labor and I had miscarried. We sought to bury/cremate our only child, but the hospitals refused to induce me, only to perform a DNC which would “discard” the baby and yeild no burial. I was very surprised by this. I reminded them it was important for personal-beliefs to have the body to bury/cremate. However, even my own OB was uncompliant. So, this is when we decided to take a HUGE risk and wait to see if I would deliver. I did recieve antiobiotics at this point approved by my OB since I had a UTI.

To not be able to bury our baby was going to cause me too much grief, so I continued to wait, pray, exercise to induce, etc. My prayers were answered and we were able to have a home-delivery of our son. We got to see his gender, hold him and have closure. This was my miracle; I could not imagine not having those things. So, despite the tragic loss, I held a great sense of gratitude and joy to meet him.

“Our story didn’t end when he died, he was still with us and his blessing upon our life came into maturity. We were now (and always would be) parents.”

Our story didn’t end when he died, he was still with us and his blessing upon our life came into maturity. We were now (and always would be) parents. We named our son, and could carry on his memory in many ways. I attribute all good, blessing, and healing to my faith. Many amazing, supernatural things came about which gave me comfort and closure. The Valour Foundation was born and brought blessing to the world. On a personal level, we had reconnected with family and developed a deep bond with them through their love and support. We kept this blessing alive even after his death and kept in better contact with family- children have a way of bringing family together. I had a mothering nature which blossomed from pregnancy which I kept alive in other areas of need. It benefited me to feel deeply and stay emotionally connected in life, even if it hurt more. Of course there is immense pain and scars from our loss- there always will be. But in order to not be consumed by the grief, one must use all blessings from the aftermath as a lifeboat to stay afloat. I know one day we will meet again.