We found out we were pregnant with our first child just after the Fourth of July in 2018. I had just completed all the requirements for my doctorate in occupational therapy, and Matt was in the middle of transitioning into his dream career. We had our dream home, complete with the perfect room for a nursery. Everything seemed perfectly aligned, and we felt like the timing couldn’t have been more ideal to welcome our first child. The excitement and joy we felt were overwhelming—we were over the moon.
Over the next nine months, my pregnancy was relatively uncomplicated. Caroline was an incredibly active baby, always kicking and rolling. Matt and I joked that she would be a wild one, destined for soccer and gymnastics given her early acrobatics in my belly. At 32 weeks, we invited our family to experience a 3D ultrasound, a magical moment we’ll never forget. Caroline opened her eyes, smiled, and even yawned. We could see she had my lips and Matt’s nose, and our hearts swelled with anticipation, counting down the weeks until we could finally hold her.
Around 37 weeks, I began experiencing severe pain in the upper left side of my back. A hospital visit revealed hydronephrosis, a common pregnancy condition where the baby presses on the kidneys or ureter. While uncomfortable, the doctors reassured us that Caroline was fine—her heartbeat was strong, and she remained active. I was sent home to await the arrival of our daughter. A few days later, though, her movements decreased. At my OB’s office, the heartbeat was still strong, and her smaller movements were attributed to her size. We left reassured, though a tiny knot of worry had begun to form.
On March 9, 2019, I went into labor. We arrived at the hospital around 6 a.m., but something felt off. Caroline’s heartbeat wasn’t “reactive”—it didn’t spike or dip with contractions. After discussions with the doctor, it was decided a c-section was necessary. By 11:30 a.m., I was in the operating room, and at 12:20 p.m., Caroline was born.
I knew immediately something was wrong. We heard her cry, but it was not normal. She was rushed away from the operating table before either of us could hold her. Matt followed, and when I was in recovery, he returned with the devastating news: Caroline hadn’t been breathing and had required resuscitation. Her tiny body was hooked to a breathing tube, IVs, and countless monitors. She was being transferred that very night to a hospital with a more advanced NICU. Seeing her through a small opening in the transport unit, we held her briefly, prayed over her, and whispered our love before she left us for an unknown place with strangers. The fear and heartbreak were indescribable.
Thus began our 74-day journey in the NICU at Northside Forsyth. MRI and EEG results revealed a severe, global brain injury, likely caused by a random umbilical cord accident around ten days before her birth. Caroline was diagnosed with Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy. While she was taken off the breathing tube ten days after birth, she required ongoing oxygen support, could not swallow on her own, and needed constant suctioning and specialized care. Her movements were non-purposeful, and she needed splints, therapy, and multiple medications just to remain comfortable. Her prognosis was grim: she may never breathe or eat on her own, sit independently, see or hear, and her life expectancy was uncertain.
On May 4, 2019, after weeks of agonizing prayers and watching her suffer, we made the unimaginable decision to remove her breathing support, prepared to let her pass peacefully in our arms. That night was terrifying, but by morning, a miracle had occurred. Caroline’s breathing stabilized. She was alive—breathing independently against all odds. The doctors were baffled, but we knew this was nothing short of God’s intervention.
With her breathing steady, we could begin planning for her homecoming. Caroline was transferred to Children’s Hospital in Atlanta for a permanent feeding tube surgery, and by May 28, 2019, we brought our miracle daughter home. Though home, reality remained sobering. She required constant care, strict medication schedules, and oxygen monitoring. Every moment was precious but fraught with worry.
On June 7, 2019, Caroline experienced a severe reaction to medication, stopping her breathing in our living room. 911 was called, and she was stabilized and transported to Kennestone Hospital. The next two days were harrowing, but on June 9, 2019—exactly three months after her birth—Caroline passed peacefully in our arms. We whispered, “It’s okay, baby. Jesus is waiting for you.”
Though our hearts remain broken, Caroline’s impact on our lives—and the lives of everyone she touched—was profound. Her life, though brief, drew people closer to faith, inspired prayer, and taught us to cherish every moment. Through our grief, we’ve learned to embrace love, gratitude, and God’s plan. Caroline’s story is a testament to miracles, even in the darkest times, and a reminder that beauty can emerge from tragedy. Though her time on Earth was short, she is whole and fully healed in heaven, forever our angel.
