I knew that the day we went home without Ollie would be one of the hardest. We had 54 perfect hours with him but we had to go home. That Sunday, it all felt so final. The last time I’d hold him, the last time time I’d kiss him, the last time I’d see him on this side of heaven. Andrew read him a book, we told him how much we loved him and wished his story included more time on earth with us. I whispered to him that he had a special assignment up in heaven….once God said we were ready, Ollie needed to pick out his little brother or sister and send them down to us. We signed all of the discharge papers, arranged for the funeral home to come pick his body up, handed our sweet boy over to the nurses, loaded our stuff onto a cart and left the hospital with empty arms.
The next morning, we met my mom at the funeral home to arrange when the funeral would be, see his casket and get all of the details figured out. They brought his casket into the room so we could arrange all of the things we wanted in there just how we liked them. We lined his casket with a blue blanket we’d bought that said “mama” and “dada” on it. On top of that we laid his bunny lovey that we’d bought when we found out we were pregnant, his knit cradle & cover from the amazing Bridget’s Cradle ministry that they would place him inside of, a wedding photo of Andrew & I, letters to him from Andrew & I, and his first Bible Storybook that his Yaya had bought him.
All the little things we chose to put in Ollie’s casket
I asked the lady at the funeral home if Ollie was there. I knew they were going to pick him up either the night before or that day. She told me he was and my heart jumped. We continued with the rest of the meeting and at the very end, I asked if I could see him again. She was hesitant, knowing his little body changed rapidly as time went on…but that didn’t matter to me. He was there and I needed to hold him again. We agreed to let my mom go see him and see if she thought I’d be okay seeing him in his current state. A few minutes later, my mom walked back in the room with a bundle of blankets containing my sweet Ollie James. Immediately the tears started flowing. When we’d left the hospital the night before, I thought I’d never get to hold him in my arms again. I unwrapped him from the blanket and held him close. I wanted to hold him forever. I would’ve just camped out at the funeral home all week if they’d let me but more things had to be done. We said goodbye to our Ollie again and continued on with the planning…. picking out flowers to go on his casket and picking his lot at the cemetery.
Holding Ollie one last time at the funeral home
The hard part of that I didn’t see coming was knowing my baby was still in my town, alone, at a funeral home and I wasn’t holding him. His funeral was not until the end of the week and knowing that he was still here, not yet buried, but I wasn’t holding him was hands down the hardest part of the week. Every single time I thought about that, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wonder in the middle of the night how hard it would be to break into a funeral home to hold him again.
His funeral was Friday morning. We kept it small and simple. A graveside service with just Andrew & I, our parents, my siblings, and Pastor Anthony and his wife in attendance. It was short and sweet and so perfect, just like Ollie’s life. The flowers on his casket were a perfect combination of whites and soft blues, with touches of rosemary from my Mom’s garden, just like my wedding bouquet had in it. We stayed as they put him in the ground and filled his grave with dirt. I’m pretty sure if they’d let me, I would’ve just gotten in the grave with him. It felt as if they were burying my heart, and in a way, they were.
Ollie’s casket & flowers
I go back to his grave almost daily. In the days and weeks since losing him, I’ve felt what I can only explain as a feeling of emptiness, like something was hollowed out from deep within me. But when I go to his grave, I feel him there. I know it’s just his earthly body but it’s as though my heart knows he’s near. He sends me little signs when I’m there too…butterflies and beautiful sunsets.
After we found out we had lost our Ollie James, we left the doctors office in tears. I distinctly remember passing a smiling pregnant woman as we walked out of the building and just looking at her in shock. I was her just a little less than an hour before, oblivious to the heartache that was about to take place.
We each called our mothers and delivered the news. It was heart wrenching to have to say it out loud. We drove to my Mom’s house where we spent the next few hours with my parents. When we got home that evening, I realized I was absolutely unprepared for delivery. As of that morning, I still had 18+ weeks to prepare and now I had less than 24 hours. I asked Andrew to take me to Walmart to buy some supplies. In hind site, I was desperately trying everything I could to escape the reality of the next few days by keeping busy. I was walking through Walmart when I realized that no one in there had any idea that my little baby bump contained our baby with no heartbeat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sit on the floor in the middle of the aisle and sob. I wanted to disappear.
That next day, Thursday, I was to arrive at the hospital at 10:30 that night to be admitted and induced. I don’t remember much of that day other than sitting in Ollie’s room crying, packing our bags for the hospital and waiting on Andrew’s parents to arrive from out of town. Finally around 10 o’clock, we left for the hospital. I was crying before we even pulled out of the driveway because I knew we’d be coming back home without our son. We arrived at the emergency room, checked in and walked up to Labor & Delivery. We got to our room and gave our parents hugs as they went to the waiting room, and I changed into a hospital gown and got settled. Our nurse came in to place the IV and insert the medicine to make my cervix begin to soften and dilate. Right off the bat, our nurses were the absolute best. What I didn’t realize then was that over the next 3 days they would care for us on more than a physical level. They would give us hugs, cry with us, laugh with us, tell us stories of hope and reassure us that we were not alone. The nurses that cared for us during our time there with Ollie will forever hold a special place in my heart.
From 11:30 Thursday night until we delivered Ollie, I would be on a 4 hour medicine schedule. Every 4 hours the nurse would come in and insert more medicine. I wasn’t sure how quickly it would work but I was told to try to get some rest before contractions really set in. I was anything but sleepy but tried to rest. I don’t think I actually got any sleep until after my second dose of medicine when I was given some pain meds through my IV that would also help me relax a bit. Even then, I was getting pretty uncomfortable and could feel the pain beginning to intensify a bit. I dozed in and out as much as possible but mostly just stared at the contraction screen and held a little bunny rabbit lovey we had bought for Ollie when we found out we were expecting. I thought about the fact that, before all of this, I’d wanted to try for a no pain med birth with Ollie. I remember thinking I wasn’t sure how those mommas do it because I was in the beginning stages of labor and already wanted all the pain to just stop. I’d later read a blog on how much the weight of childbirth when the baby is already gone can effect your ability to handle the physical pain of it. It makes sense. I was in so much emotional pain that I had no room for additional pain. There was no joy in this childbirth….no baby to bring home from the hospital at the end of it. Pain meds it was!
Holding the Bunny Rabbit Lovey in the hospital that we bought for Ollie when we found out we were expecting. He was buried with this lovey in his casket.
I was told that when Ollie came, it would be quick. I wouldn’t have to dilate to a 10 because he wasn’t full term. That morning after shift change and my new nurses arrived, I got another dose of medicine and they checked to see how far dilated I was. I was between 1 and 2 cm. I remember thinking “This really is going to take all day”. Little did I know, our sweet boy would arrive a little less than 2 hours later.
Andrew and I were sitting and visiting with one of my nearest and dearest friends, Christa, when I felt it. Something had just happened. I wasn’t sure what was happening but I felt pressure and asked Christa to grab our nurse. While she ran to go get them, I asked Andrew to look. “Is it him?!” I asked. “I need to know!”. He looked and said “Yes. I see a leg or arm or something!” A few seconds later my two incredible nurses came in. I remember them both looking at the clock as they came in the room and they quickly delivered him. His time of birth: 8:57 am. They worked quickly to get his cord cut and clamped and I had Andrew hand them a blanket we’d brought. A few minutes later, she handed me my son, Ollie James Mefford, laying on the blanket his Yaya bought just for him. He was so much smaller than I’d ever imagined he’d be. To be completely honest, the first few minutes I was in shock. Scared to touch him in fear of breaking his tiny little body. I remember seeing how perfectly formed he was, despite his size. He had 10 perfect little fingers and 10 perfect little toes. He weighed 4.7 ounces and measured 8 inches long.
I shed a few tears the first few minutes I held him but truly, after the shock wore off, I just remember being so glad he was there. I was so glad that I got to see him, hold him, love him. I’m pretty sure at some point in the first hour, I remember asking one of the nurses, who also happened to be a sweet family friend, if I was normal. I expected to be a sobbing mess but instead I smiled when I looked at our baby boy and noticed he had his daddy’s fingers and toes. I laughed when I realized he didn’t look a lick like me. The peace and joy that filled his room the day of his birth can only be a testament to the tribe of friends and family we had praying for us. It was still a completely heart wrenching day but along side the pain of losing our son, we were also able to celebrate him. To celebrate that he was ours for 5 and a half beautiful months in my belly. It was the first time I ever remember feeling that peace that surpasses all understanding that is mentioned in the Bible.
Ollie James Mefford, shortly after birth.
About an hour after his birth, our parents got to come in and meet him. Shortly after that, my siblings. And then a little later, some of my lifelong best friends. The next few hours were some of the most beautiful hours I’ll ever have on this side of heaven. We held our boy, shared him with the ones we loved most and soaked it all in. There were tears but there was also laughter. Ollie had his feet and hand prints made, his feet and hands dipped in a plaster mold and his pictures professionally taken. He was loved on and cuddled and kissed. Andrew, Ollie & I were surrounded by the people we loved most and soaking in the only moments we’d have with all of them and Ollie in the same room.
Eventually, everyone left and we got some time with just the three of us. Our little family. We played Ollie our first dance song (Forever Like That by Ben Rector) and told him how much we loved him. Later that afternoon, we realized that this would be the only birthday we got with Ollie so we asked my sister-in-law Chass, who had offered to bring us dinner, if she could instead find Ollie his first birthday cake. I knew she was the right person to ask and that was confirmed when she and my “bonus sister-in-law”, her twin sister Cass, showed up, not only with the cutest little cake, but also balloons, a candle, and a birthday gift for Ollie.
Ollie’s birthday gift and birthday present
After they left, we spent the rest of the evening making memories. We sang Ollie happy birthday, ate cake and opened his present, a book from his Aunt Chass & Uncle Matt called “Just In Case You Ever Wonder” by Max Lucado. I read him the note in the front cover and then read him the book through tears. It was the perfect first book for Ollie. We soaked in every moment and recorded a few on video too so we’d have them to look back on.
Our Family ♥️
I heard another angel momma describe it this way and it’s true: It was the most perfect worst day ever.
If you missed the story of how we found out we were expecting, you can find part one here and part two here.
After our pregnancy announcement and first ultrasound, things really started to set in. Most nights from week 6 to week 14 or so I was sick as a dog…apparently “morning sickness” can be night sickness too. It was so bad that I just had to start laughing about it because Lord knows, crying about it wasn’t getting me anywhere. I started ranking the nights to get a little humor out of it all. I still proudly claim the night I threw up so hard and for so long that my nose bled as the worst of it all. Andrew claimed it looked like a scene out of the exorcist and I’m sure he isn’t wrong.
Thankfully, after the first trimester passed, I could keep food down. Hallelujah! We scheduled a gender ultrasound for 16 weeks. The first ultrasound tech couldn’t get sweet baby to cooperate so we thought we were going to have to wait another month to find out. Thankfully, a second ultrasound tech pulled us into her room and tried again. It took her a minute or so but I’ll never forget her turning the screen towards us and saying “It’s a BOY!”
I’ll never forget that day, not only because it was the day we found out it was a boy, but because it was also the first time we were able to hear our baby’s heartbeat. We got to hear it not once, but twice that day… once with the doppler in the doctors appointment and then again during the ultrasound. It was beautiful and strong. What I didn’t realize then was that it was the first and last time I’d hear it. I wish so badly that I’d asked to record it.
We announced that night that we were having a boy and naming him Ollie James Mefford. One of the things I love most is the meaning of his name, both the literal meaning and why we chose it. We chose “Ollie” simply because we loved it. It was unique, sweet and would grow well with age. The middle name “James” is after Andrew’s late father who passed when he was young and it was a way to honor him. It wasn’t until a week or so after we had picked “Ollie James” that I realized the meaning of his two names put together is “The One Who Follows Peace.” I can’t help but think that God had a hand in that meaning.
Once we knew it was boy, I immediately started planning the nursery and buying precious little boy clothes. By the time our 21 week appointment arrived on September 4th, Ollie already had enough clothes to last the first few weeks of his life, his nursery had a beautiful new rug and paint samples on the wall and I was feeling him roll around in my belly on a semi-regular basis. I was nervous the day of his appointment but that was pretty normal. I’m a worrier. I hadn’t felt him move yet that day but that wasn’t unusual. He was more active at night and I wasn’t feeling him consistently enough yet to be worried.
Since this appointment was the big one-hour anatomy ultrasound, we were so excited to see our boy again. I remember watching the ultrasound tech’s face and wondering if something was wrong. I couldn’t see the screen fully so I wasn’t sure what she was looking at but I could tell she was looking for or at something. A minute or so later, she turned the screen towards us and said “Okay. I can’t find a heartbeat.” Convinced I hadn’t heard her right I muttered “…what?” and she repeated, “I can’t find a heartbeat. I’m so sorry. I’m going to go find Dr. Williams and bring him in here so we can confirm.” She left the room and I felt like my heart stopped.
I turned to Andrew, who hadn’t heard what she said, and repeated it. The majority of the next 25 minutes waiting for Dr. Williams (who was at home at the time of our ultrasound and rushing in once he got the call) was spent in silence holding each others hands and praying. I’m not even sure my prayers were more than “Please, please, please God.” and tears. I begged for God to breathe life into Ollie and promised He could have me once Ollie was safely delivered. I was desperately clinging to the hope that maybe the ultrasound tech was new (she wasn’t) and Dr. Williams would come in and find Ollie safe and sound. I had just felt him move the night before.
When Dr. Williams arrived they did two more ultrasounds, one on the stomach and one internal, neither of which showed a heartbeat. Dr. Williams grabbed my hand, placed his other hand on my stomach and confirmed that our son, Ollie James, no longer had a heartbeat. I don’t remember much after that. It was all a blur. I remember asking him through sobs “Did I do something wrong?” to which both he and the ultrasound tech assured me absolutely not, that unfortunately this happens and most of the time there was no explanation on this side of heaven. He assured me that this didn’t mean I wouldn’t have more children and that I had to hold on to hope, which was the furthest thing from my mind in the moment.
We then talked about the plan for the next few days. He wanted me to come to the hospital the following night and they would induce me. He warned up front that this process can be long and hard because not only was this my first pregnancy, but I was also 21 weeks and my body wasn’t ready to give birth yet…it had to be forced to. I was terrified. I had just learned that I’d lost my son and now I had to somehow find the strength to labor and birth him too, knowing full well that I would leave the hospital with empty arms? I thought for sure that it was going to kill me. My heart felt as though it was shattering over and over again with every beat, there was no way it would hold up in labor.
Hi There! If you missed Part One of “The Journey Begins” you can find it here.
When I went to work that morning after taking a pregnancy test with an ever so slight second line, I began convincing myself that Andrew was right….the line was faint so maybe it wasn’t actually a positive. On the way home from work, I stopped and bought not one….not two….but $27 dollars worth of pregnancy tests. I bought pink dye tests, blue dye tests, really cheap tests, and those overpriced but also worth every penny digitals tests. I am what you would call a typical enneagram six. A worry wart. or, as I like to call it: prepared.
Andrew got off work early that day and met me at home. I went to our master bathroom and laid out one of each type of test and, well…peed in a paper cup. Once I had “activated” all of the tests, I sat them on the counter, set a timer for 3 minutes and started pacing. About one minute in, I remember realizing that there was a good chance this moment was about to change my life so I quickly dropped to my knees right there on the bathroom floor and said a prayer. I thanked God for Andrew and prayed that, if it were His will, these tests would be positive. I promised Him I’d love the baby and raise him or her to know Him.
Being the ever so patient person I am, I peeked at the time on my phone and still had a minute left. I paced another 15 seconds or so before deciding to just go ahead and look. All four tests had the same results: pregnant. I stood there for what felt like an eternity in absolute shock. I remember thinking “I’m the only one that knows about you right now, little baby” and feeling how special that was.
Andrew was in the living room so I grabbed my phone and started recording. I walked out, sat on the couch and showed him the tests. He was in SHOCK. We laughed and soaked it in for a few minutes. We decided to go to dinner at one of our favorite spots, Miller’s Grocery, to celebrate. Of course, we saw so many people we knew but we kept our little secret safe. After dinner, we went to Walmart and bought our sweet baby a little pair of fuzzy moccasins since we had estimated he or she would be born in December or January.
That weekend, we told our parents and told our siblings over the following week. They were all over joyed. We waited until our first ultrasound in mid-June to tell the rest of the world just to make sure everything was okay. Seeing that sweet little baby blob on the screen was so surreal. We saw the little heart flicker and saw it’s little arms wiggling around. We joked that it was dancing for the camera. I had already fell in love with that sweet baby long before I saw it on the screen but that made it so much more real. Once we knew everything was looking good and our baby was healthy and growing, we told the world our news: Our family was growing and baby love was due on our third wedding anniversary in January 2020.
Andrew & I knew from the start that we wanted a family. We were married in January of 2017 and decided to give ourselves a year or two of “just us” before we started trying. Long story short, life has been pretty hectic and unpredictable the last two years or so. We kept saying we’d start a family once things slow down.
One day in February of 2019, I woke up and just could not stop thinking about how bad I wanted to have a baby. I decided to bring it up to Andrew that night after work. I fully expected a him to mildly panic and talk some sense back into me. Life hadn’t exactly slowed down, after all. But surprisingly, he had been thinking about it that day too. Instead of talking each other off the edge, we realized that this was it. We were ready to take the jump into parenthood and decided we would start trying the following month.
Due to being diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) in college, I was expecting it to take at least 6 months, if not more, to get pregnant. We started trying in March and…nothing. I decided for the sake of my sanity to chill out a bit on the ovulation tracking ( I had three apps tracking my fertility, y’all….THREE.) and just have fun. I’d start back to tracking in a few months if we weren’t pregnant by then.
On Thursday May 2, I realized I should have probably started that week. I shrugged it off because PCOS can make your body all out of whack. I decided I’d take a pregnancy test Friday morning, just to get it off my mind, fully expecting a big fat negative.
I get up for work during the week around five and I’m usually out the door before Andrew’s alarm goes off at six. When I woke up that morning, I went to our master bathroom and took a test. I sat it on the counter and started getting ready for the day. I kept glancing down at the test as the results started to show and ever so slightly, a faint second line started to appear. Now, I wish I could say I sweetly crawled back into bed and woke Andrew to tell him the news. But I did what comes naturally to me: I panicked. I went into the bedroom, flipped on every single light and not so quietly woke Andrew asking him if he saw the second line. That memory still makes me smile. Grace may be my middle name but Andrew would tell you it’s ironic because gracefulness is not high on my list of qualities I possess.
Andrew, being new to this whole pregnancy test thing, said something along the lines of “I see a really, really faint line…but I still think it’s negative. We’ll try again next month.” Meanwhile, I knew that even a faint line is a positive and had to go sit at work all day knowing we had a baby on the way.
Happily Ever Mefford 