A black and white photo of a plasticine mold of two tiny little baby feet.

A plasticine mold of Dominic’s feet.

**Before you read I do feel it’s necessary to put a warning. If you are sensitive, fearful, or easily triggered by traumatic pregnancy and birth stories please do not continue. It is not graphic in nature but I do share my personal story that some might be upset by.


Dominic’s Story: Part 4

No one has a baby and expects to walk out of the hospital with a shattered heart and empty arms. But that’s exactly what I did. Thinking about the whoosh of the automatic doors opening as I left Vancouver Women’s Hospital without my son still brings tears to my eyes. The sleepless nights I spent curled up on the nursery room floor, heaving with soundless sobs. Mountainous medical bills that just kept coming. And the looks. The looks of family and friends who, even though hurting for you, would never truly know the depth of that kind of loss.

I could easily spend the entirety of this post depicting the gut-wrenching turmoil that followed the loss of Dominic. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to remember my son like that. I want to remember him as a beautiful gift from God. Yes, I would move mountains to have him here with me, but I wouldn’t, not even for a moment, change his story and the story that God has created from our tragedy.

Because of Dominic, I raise my family to know and serve the Lord. Not just when it’s good or easy or beneficial. But when it hurts. When it’s hard. When it requires you to walk through the fire and back. And in doing so, God has shown his faithfulness. His love. His goodness. And his sovereignty. He has shown me that when I hand over my hurt, the ashes of this broken life, He can and will create a masterpiece. A masterpiece carefully woven with miracles and blessings.

I have never loved and served the Lord as I do now. And I don’t know if I could say that if I hadn’t had lost Dominic. I am raising my three beautiful daughters to know and serve the Lord. And again, I don’t know If I could say that if I hadn’t had lost Dominic. Much like the Israelites, when they cried out for miracle after miracle while wandering the desert…how soon after the miracle did they forget the Lord? I did not get the miracle I prayed so fervently for. But God in his goodness crafted a different miracle. An eternal miracle. Salvation. Salvation for me. Salvation for my husband. And salvation for my family. And that, my friends, will forever be worth walking through the fire for.

I long for the day I see Dominic again in heaven. To wrap my arms around him. To hold him close and breath him in. I long to tell him all about his sisters and how, on March 1st,  we get McDonald’s and sing him happy birthday every single year. That while he was not physically present with us, he was always held tightly in our hearts. But most of all, I want to look into those brown eyes again and say thank you. For in his short life, he forever changed mine.

A black and white photo of a family of three little girls.

Our three daughters who we are raising to know and love the Lord.