Our Yes, Our Joy, and the Road We Didn’t Expect
“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”
— Ephesians 4:2
On April 2, 2025, we said yes, not just to marriage, but to a life rooted in humility, gentleness, patience, and love. Ephesians 4:2 felt like the truest reflection of how we wanted to build our marriage, and it still does. We stepped into marriage as a blended family – bringing together stories, laughter, and a deep love that had already been growing. Our family includes three incredible adult children, Hannah, Alex, and Katie, along with our two fur children, Tito and Leo. Around my birthday, our crew grew again when we welcomed the sweetest little kitten, Archie, into our home. Life felt full, joyful, and beautifully settled.
A few weeks later, to our wonderful surprise, we found out we were pregnant on July 31, 2025. The joy was immediate. Our NIPT results came back clear, and we soon learned we were expecting our first daughter together. The excitement was tangible – the shopping started right away, dreams began forming, and our hearts were overflowing. Those early weeks of pregnancy were physically smooth. My sweet husband had to navigate my shifting emotions many times. I leaned into prayer through moments of anxiety.
Still, nothing prepared us for November 19, the day of our 20-week anatomy scan. We walked into that appointment expecting reassurance. Instead, everything seemed to come to a halt. The ultrasound technician mentioned we would need to return to take more pictures. Shawn’s intuition instantly kicked in. As I rotated through providers at my OBGYN, a midwife I was meeting for the first time entered the room. She told us that brain abnormalities had been found. They were reaching out to a high-risk team better equipped to understand what was happening.
In that moment, my world slowed to a near stop. I felt disoriented — suspended between disbelief and fear. My sweet husband looked at me and asked, “What can I do for you right now?” Through tears, I whispered, “Pray,” and he did — right there, covering us in that moment. Between that appointment and the next later that day, I ran straight to the Psalms. I pleaded with God to comfort us. I asked for strength for what was coming.
At the later appointment, the ultrasound tech carefully walked through our baby girl’s anatomy. She had two feet, ten toes, long legs, all of her organs, four strong chambers of her heart, two arms, two hands, and ten fingers that opened and closed. Everything seemed perfect — until we reached her brain. I will never forget the moment she asked,
“Is this your first baby?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
“Oh, hun… I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t yet understand what that meant. I just knew my heart felt unbearably heavy.
We were then taken into a room. It was not an exam room, but a quiet room with a couch and two chairs. A box of tissues was placed carefully in the center. A kind but somber doctor and genetic counselor joined us. They shared that they suspected our daughter had meningoencephalocele. She also had five brain abnormalities: ventriculomegaly, absent CSP (cavum septi pellucidi), lemon sign of the cranium, a dilated third ventricle, and Chiari II malformation with herniated cerebellum. I remember thinking: What does any of this even mean?
What I remember most clearly were the words:
“This is severe.”
“She has a poor prognosis.”
“If she makes it, we are thinking minutes to hours.”
Then, we were presented with options — to continue the pregnancy with support from maternal-fetal medicine and palliative care, or to return the next day to terminate the pregnancy before Thanksgiving. Our one desire was to honor the Lord. For us, there was only one option: to continue. The next few weeks were filled with grief and love intertwined. We mourned what we thought we were losing, yet felt this lively baby girl kicking inside of me, and we leaned fully into God. We were surrounded by an outpouring of love — coffee, tea, meals, gift cards, blankets, flowers, books, letters, prayers, and presence from family, friends, coworkers, and our community. Through His people, God showed us His faithfulness.
Three weeks later, we had our first appointment with UNC Maternal-Fetal Medicine, and something shifted. With clearer imaging, our new care team shared that the diagnosis appeared different. Our daughter now has a proposed diagnosis of occipital encephalocele with ventriculomegaly. This change brought hope — not certainty, but hope.
We are now moving ahead with extra testing and care: MRI, amniocentesis, blood work, extensive genetic testing, and meetings with pediatric neurosurgeons and neonatologists. There is an array of possible outcomes, and the truth is — we still don’t know what lies ahead. But we do know this: We will continue to trust the Lord and lean not on our own understanding (Proverbs 3:5).
We are calling on our community to continue praying — because prayer is powerful. And in the waiting, Shawn and I are choosing obedience and gratitude: for our relationship with God, for our marriage, for our children, and for the people who have walked so closely with us.
I have asked why.
Why us?
Why our baby girl?
I don’t yet have those answers. But God has shown me His strength, His presence, and His faithfulness — and He has asked us to trust Him. So that is what we will continue to do. As Scripture reminds us: “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” — Ecclesiastes 4:12
Christ is our firm foundation.
And we are choosing to trust, to believe, and to know that He is God.
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