This is not the birth story I ever imagined sharing. It is not the story I planned, prayed for, or prepared my heart to tell. Yet, as both a birth worker and a believer, I have learned that every story—no matter how painful—can carry purpose. Even the most heartbreaking journeys can become a light for someone else walking through darkness. Macie’s story deserves to be told, not only because of how deeply she was loved, but because her brief life has left an eternal imprint on our hearts.
I share this with the hope that someone reading may feel Christ’s presence, find strength in their own season of suffering, and be reminded that even in grief, hope and faith endure. Macie was cherished long before she ever took a breath. She was anticipated by many, prayed over endlessly, and she continues to be remembered with love until the day we are reunited with her in Heaven.
At 42 weeks and 3 days, I was still in complete denial that I was truly in labor. It felt as though my baby was never going to come. The week before, I had tried everything I could think of—two days of an herbal blend meant to encourage labor, pumping, walking, staying active, doing all the things that were supposed to help. Yet my body gave no clear signs. Each day that passed felt heavier, both physically and emotionally. Hope and exhaustion battled within me, and I felt myself growing more discouraged with every sunrise.
The day after 42 weeks and 2 days, after enduring the comments and curious looks from strangers about why I was still pregnant, I finally reached my breaking point. I felt emotionally worn down, mentally drained, and deeply discouraged. I reached out to my midwife and admitted how defeated I felt. She gently suggested trying a midwife’s brew—a remedy I had been hesitant about because of the risks I had heard associated with castor oil. But in that moment, my desperation outweighed my fear.
That afternoon, Trey took the girls to the pumpkin patch with his mom. I stayed home alone, mixed up the brew, and waited. I prayed. I hoped. I listened to my body. But nothing truly happened. A few mild cramps, some scattered contractions—nothing that felt like real labor. When Trey and the girls returned, I broke down in tears. I cried from frustration, from exhaustion, and from the crushing weight of waiting. That night, I went to bed early, my heart heavy, clinging to a fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—things would change overnight.
They didn’t.
The following morning, I saw my midwife for a non-stress test. Everything looked perfect. Macie was healthy, moving well, positioned beautifully. Hearing that brought a sense of relief, even as the waiting continued to wear on me. I even felt a few tightenings during the appointment. My midwife sent me home, reassuring me that both Macie and I were safe, that she was doing well, and that my baby would come soon. She encouraged me to try another round of the brew. Her calm confidence became a lifeline in that moment. It was just enough reassurance to help me keep going.
Those days of waiting were some of the hardest. The uncertainty was suffocating. The emotional rollercoaster of hope, frustration, fear, and faith tested me in ways I never expected. The quiet fear that something could go wrong lingered in the back of my mind, yet my love for Macie anchored me. I talked to her, imagined her face, finished her nursery, folded her tiny clothes, and dreamed of finally holding her. Each preparation carried both excitement and anxiety—because even in joy, we know that life is fragile and never guaranteed.
As time passed, contractions began sporadically, but still labor did not progress the way I had hoped. The pressure of carrying past 42 weeks weighed heavily on my body and my spirit. Every step, every breath, was wrapped in prayer. I prayed for strength. I prayed for safety. I prayed for the moment when I would finally hold my daughter in my arms. I reminded myself to trust God’s plan, even when my heart struggled with impatience and fear.
When labor could no longer be delayed, the hours leading up to it felt like a blur of anticipation, nervous energy, and deep emotional intensity. This was not the birth I had envisioned. I had dreamed of something gentle, calm, and peaceful. Instead, reality required a level of courage I didn’t know I possessed. With every contraction, every moment of uncertainty, I leaned into my faith. I leaned on Trey. I leaned on the love that had already been poured into Macie’s life long before she ever arrived.
Macie’s birth was not the story I imagined—but it became a powerful testimony to the depth of a mother’s love and the strength that faith can provide in unimaginable circumstances. The experience was painful, overwhelming, and heartbreaking in ways that words can barely capture. Yet even in that darkness, I felt an unbreakable connection to my daughter. She was so loved. So wanted. So deeply cherished. The brief time I held her, even in sorrow, confirmed how profoundly she had already changed our lives.
In the days that followed, I reflected on every part of the journey—the waiting, the prayers, the hopes, the heartbreak. I realized that Macie’s story was not meant to end in despair. It was meant to be a light for others. By sharing it, I pray it offers comfort to those walking similar roads. Even in loss, love endures. Even in grief, God’s strength remains.
Macie will always be remembered. Her name is spoken with love. Her memory is carried in every heartbeat of our family. Though we were not given the story we hoped for, the love we have for her is eternal. We hold tightly to the promise of reunion in Heaven, where sorrow will be no more, and where we will embrace her again in perfect peace.
Through this journey, I have learned that even the hardest, most unexpected experiences can hold meaning. Pain and grief, when held with faith, can become testimony. Macie’s life—however brief—has become part of our family’s witness. She reminds us that life is fragile, that love is powerful, and that even in heartbreak, hope still lives.
Macie was, and always will be, deeply cherished. Her story continues to shine, guiding others, and reminding us that love never ends—even when life on earth does.