I have been with my husband since I was 15 and got pregnant with our oldest child at age 16. Since learning we were going to be first time parents, we felt in love with our little bundle of joy and blessed to have the privilege to form a family. We decided we would eventually love to have four babies — two boys and two girls, spaced four to five years apart so that we could give each baby quality time, care, and love before adding a new baby. As it happened, we had two boys, now 12 and 17, and two girls, now three and seven. We thought we were finished having kids. Then, my husband said he wanted to have one last baby! He is an exceptional, awesome husband and a wonderful dad, and together we thought it was an excellent idea. We discussed it with our children and they loved the idea. So, we prayed and asked God if He could bless us one last time. A few weeks later, we received the great news that we were expecting again! The last thing we ever expected was that I would miscarry.

We gathered our children and our preborn baby’s future godparents and shared the great news. For the first few months, everything seemed perfect. My first prenatal appointment was scheduled for Monday, November 20, 2017, but we couldn’t wait to meet our baby, so three days before, we had an ultrasound at a “Hi Mom” 4-D ultrasound business. We took our four kiddos to meet our new baby, thinking it was going to be the happiest day of our lives. Instead, it was the most horrible, heartbreaking and sad day.

The first thing we saw on the screen was a beautiful, completely formed baby with both hands on his face. Our hearts melted, and all I could think was, “Thank you, Jesus.” Then, suddenly, the lady said, “Who told you you were pregnant?!”