I’ve had a hard time putting this into words. Sharing it opens the doors to a new journey—one we didn’t choose, yet one that was lovingly chosen for us. It’s a path that still surprises us, and I know it might surprise you too. But it’s also a path that will become the biggest love story our family has ever known.
Our sweet baby Louie came into this world incredibly special. He has a condition. When God was forming him in the secret place, He chose to make Louie different from most. He was divinely selected at conception to have Achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism. Louie is a little person. To say we were shocked, overwhelmed, even heartbroken when we learned this at 35 weeks would be an understatement. But we are thankful we had time to process and prepare before his birth—time that allowed tears to turn into joy and deep, unwavering love. The formal confirmation through genetic testing only came three weeks ago, yet we already know he was perfectly designed.
So here we are, on a path we never dreamed of, but one that was always meant to be. There’s so much we don’t understand, but our love for this little boy is beyond measure. We are ready to raise him as God created him to be. God doesn’t make mistakes. I believe the gift of Louie will change us—and maybe even the world—in profound ways. His two big brothers and two big sisters were chosen to love and protect him, and I am so excited to watch how their characters grow alongside his. Louie already has a purpose, and we can feel it in our hearts.
But that’s not where this story began. The idea of making a difference for a child with a rare condition only started to take root after that first shock. Now, let me take you to the very beginning.
We always dreamed of a big family. Our first four children were very close in age. When our fourth was about to turn three, we began thinking maybe one more child was meant for us. We decided to try for only two months, letting that brief window decide if our family would grow. We already had four healthy kids and, at the time, worried about the possibility of having a child with something “wrong.” I cringe thinking about that now.
At the end of the second month, I had taken a few early pregnancy tests. They were all negative, and I assumed that was the end. I remember standing in my bathroom, tossing the last test in the trash, and saying to God, “Well Lord, if You want us to have a fifth baby, You’ll have to put him or her there on Your own.” I felt at peace with stopping, but we were open to His plan.
A few days later, my sister insisted, “Take one more test, just to be sure.” I hesitated but eventually did. And then—I saw it. A faint line. I raced to the store for another test, and this time, the line was clear. We couldn’t believe it. Even now, I reflect on that short prayer and know in my heart that Louie was never a mistake. He was perfectly planned and purposefully chosen for our family.
The pregnancy was much like the others. Our four children were over the moon excited. We learned that number five was a boy, our “tie breaker” between two boys and two girls. I remember walking into the 20-week ultrasound with nervous anticipation—everyone knows this is the moment where you find out if something might be wrong. The doctor said everything looked great but added a seemingly unnecessary warning that no one could guarantee the future. I left feeling reassured, believing we were out of the woods.
The next few months flew by. We didn’t yet have a name for him, so we called him Cinco, or Number 5. Around 34 weeks, I measured a little bigger than usual, so we went for another ultrasound. My husband came with me for one last peek at our little boy before he arrived. The ultrasound tech smiled and said, “I think this might be your biggest baby yet!” Irony, as it turns out, doesn’t get much sweeter than this.
Everything appeared fine at first. My husband left to pick up the older kids while I stayed for the appointment. I even hit “publish” on a Facebook post with his latest ultrasound photo just seconds before the doctor walked in. And then he said it: “We need to talk about some things with the baby…” What?! I had just seen him—big, plump, and seemingly perfect. The doctor explained that his legs measured very small—1st percentile—while his head and torso measured over the 97th percentile. He suggested we see a specialist for a second ultrasound, just to be sure.
Shock, disbelief, and a flood of emotions hit me. I called my husband, voice trembling: “Babe, I think something might be wrong with the baby.” He thought I was joking until he heard the panic in my voice. For days, I tried to convince myself it was an off measurement, but deep down, I knew. That weekend, even during a small baby shower, I clung to positivity, hoping everything would be fine.
A week later, we arrived at the specialist’s office, ready for reassuring news. But as the tech measured every detail of his little body, a gnawing feeling grew inside me. I noticed her focus on his chest and his tiny pinkie finger. My heart sank. The doctor soon entered and said gently, “I was hoping to walk in and see that your baby might just be very short, but I believe your son has achondroplasia, the same condition featured on the Little People shows. Any history in your family?” None. Most people don’t realize it’s usually not inherited.
He continued, calmly explaining markers and measurements. He offered genetic testing, but our little boy would arrive before results came back. Walking out, scheduling appointments with genetics, orthopedics, pulmonology, ENT, and more, it hit me—we were on a completely new path. Sitting in the hallway, tears streaming, I told my husband, “I know God chose this for us and for our baby, but it’s so hard.” Almost immediately, he echoed, “Yes, He did.” Louie was chosen. Our baby’s life wasn’t a mistake.
Fears swirled. How would friends and family respond? Would he be accepted, loved, included? What would he look like? How would we explain this to our older children? We had about a month to prepare for the little world-changer who would transform ours.
On March 9, 2018, Louie David entered the world via C-section. We held our breath, gazed at him, and fell in love. At first, nothing seemed different. But then, we noticed his little starfish hands. Over the following weeks, those hands became a visible reminder of the differences and challenges ahead. At six weeks, we received the official diagnosis of achondroplasia.
What followed were countless appointments—blood draws, MRIs, general anesthesia, sleep studies, x-rays, tubes, and physical exams. Despite the medical challenges, Louie’s joy and determination shone brighter than any worry. Babies with dwarfism have low muscle tone, which can make hitting milestones slower, but with four older siblings keeping pace, Louie laughed in the face of “delay.” At 18 months, he took his first steps, and the excitement from his siblings made my heart burst.
Today, I look at his precious hands and marvel. They give the sweetest kisses, the funniest starfish high-fives, and the tightest wraps around our fingers. Twenty months ago, I stared at an ultrasound picture, anxious and unsure. If I could go back, I’d whisper to that worried mom:
“It will be okay. More than okay. It will be beautiful, precious, and life-giving. You’re about to meet a baby intricately crafted by God, perfectly made for your family. His differences will become part of his perfect story, and your love will only grow. This was always meant to be. The journey may be different, but it changes nothing. Everything is exactly as it should be.”
