Pregnancy Journey
Blake took so long to come into this world, yet he was taken from us in an instant.
On December 6, 2012, the day he turned six months old, our world was forever changed for the second time that year. Our journey began on September 26, 2011, when we discovered I was pregnant with our first baby. I remember the moment vividly—staring at the positive test, whispering to myself, “Wow, this is real. I’m going to be a mom!” My husband Ben and I chose to keep the baby’s sex a surprise, not just for ourselves but for everyone, until the 20-week scan.
Pregnancy with Blake was smooth for the most part—no morning sickness, no intense cravings. But as I neared eight months, my blood pressure started climbing, and I was put on modified bed rest for the last four weeks. My days became a blur of 24-hour urine collections, blood draws, and non-stress tests, with a few hospital stays along the way, all in an effort to keep Blake and me safe.
There was worry that I might develop pre-eclampsia. At 39 weeks, on June 3rd, my doctors decided to induce labor. I came in the next morning to check for progress, accompanied by my cousin Heather, who turned out to be an amazing labor coach. I was experiencing mild contractions, though I didn’t recognize them at the time.
Hours turned into days—over 50 long hours—before Blake was finally ready to meet us. The labor is a fog in my memory now. Multiple induction techniques were attempted before my doctor informed us that Blake’s head was stuck. We had a choice: I could try pushing, or we could go straight to a c-section. Anxiety flooded me at the thought of pushing—I hadn’t researched c-sections and had no idea what was coming.
Thankfully, everything went smoothly. Blake was born at 9:49 p.m. on June 6, 2012, weighing 7 lbs 9 oz and measuring 21 inches. Ben proudly announced, “It’s a boy!” I was overjoyed to hear it, and I could see him already imagining all the adventures and mischief they would share as father and son.
Post-Birth Worries
Once home, Blake slept remarkably well, and I often marveled at having a baby who seemed to rest through the night. Every check-up reassured us—he was growing perfectly, eating well, and hitting milestones on time. But in October, at four months old, we noticed some flatness at the back of his head. Our pediatrician agreed to refer us to a neurosurgeon to determine if Blake would need a molding helmet. I felt a familiar anxiety rising: “What if something is wrong? What if he needs surgery? How will we manage it?”
The doctor examined Blake and reassured us that it was cosmetic, not medical. He said a helmet was optional and that surgery was unnecessary. We decided to let nature take its course, hoping his head would reshape on its own. Still, the thought lingered in the back of my mind: “What if it doesn’t? Will he ever forgive us?”
I didn’t have long to dwell on that worry. Only two months after that appointment, Blake’s time with us ended.
Losing Our Son to SIDS
I returned to work after six weeks, without paid maternity leave, leaving Blake in the care of a wonderful caregiver who adored him like her own. On December 6, during an afternoon nap, he was found facedown in his pack ‘n play. CPR was attempted, but his little heart never restarted.
The call came around 4 p.m. from our caregiver: “Blake isn’t breathing.” The details were scarce, and for ten minutes on the drive, hope held me, even as my mind refused to process the gravity. When I arrived, she recounted everything. Ben, our rock, had already arrived and, knowing it was too late, made the difficult decision to halt life-saving measures.
Walking into the ER, I thought I heard a baby cry and braced myself for relief, but I was wrong. A nurse approached and said softly, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We did everything we could.” Blake was gone. The world as we knew it collapsed in that instant. Weeks later, we learned he had succumbed to SIDS—there was no reason, no explanation, only emptiness and heartbreak.
Welcoming Rainbow Babies
By July 2013, hope returned in a fragile form. On July 7, Ben’s birthday, at Olive Garden, I told him I had one more birthday gift: we were expecting again. This time, it was a girl. We named her Jenna. Fear and excitement intertwined. I was nervous—raising a girl was unfamiliar territory—but something told us Blake guided us, sensing our hearts needed a daughter to heal some of the sorrow.
Jenna’s pregnancy mirrored Blake’s in many ways, though thankfully, no bed rest was required. We braced ourselves at every step, haunted by the fear of losing another child. Her planned c-section was for February 5th, but she had other plans. With my blood pressure elevated, my doctor asked, “How about today?” Within hours, at 8:21 p.m., Jenna was born at 7 lbs 1 oz and 19.25 inches. Her footprints, especially one with a heart-shaped mark, felt like a sign from Blake.
Blake’s influence appeared again during our next pregnancy. Early complications arose—a cystic hygroma detected at the 10-week ultrasound—but genetic testing revealed our baby boy was healthy. On March 4, 2016, Brady was born by c-section at 6 lbs 6 oz. He needed a little oxygen at birth, and my doctor noted my uterus was dangerously thin—an early birth likely saved us from a serious complication. Coincidentally, June 6—Blake’s birthday—was Brady’s birth date, another sign from above.
A Family Healed
Our rainbow babies, Jenna and Brady, continue to fill our lives with joy, laughter, and chaos. Jenna is fierce and full of emotion, while Brady is gentle and mischievously influenced by his sister. Though we carry Blake in our hearts, we see his presence in them every day.
We couldn’t be happier. And we know Blake is still here with us, watching, guiding, and ensuring we’re okay.
