Honoring Indie: Help Taylor and Abe Heal

Preparing the nursery, washing baby clothes, sanitizing bottles, packing a hospital bag– all things on the minds of Taylor and Abe heading into the holiday weekend. The reassurance of a strong heartbeat and measurements right on track at her appointment just a few days prior, fueling the excitement for what was just on the horizon. 36 weeks on Wednesday. “We’re getting a girl!” exclaimed the grandparents, whose minds were bubbling with dreams of dresses, ponytails, and adventures to come. The road here has been long. Taylor, a childhood cancer survivor and miscarriage warrior, and Abe, a military man with images of past deployment he works every day to overcome for his wife and son.

Tuesday, July 1st, Taylor started feeling sick and by Wednesday, July 2nd was beginning to question the baby's decreased movement. They headed to the mother baby center at Mercy wanting to “just make sure everything was okay,” the triage nurse encouraged them to come in for peace of mind. They notified work that they were heading in to check on the baby but should be home soon and may be at work tomorrow. The drive to the hospital was filled with thoughts of possible early labor, much like with Milo, their first. What will she look like? The nursery may not be set up yet, but all she needed was her mama, daddy, diapers, and milk. This may not have been the plan, but hey, has anything in their lives been that way so far? There was laughter thinking about the possibility of a 4th of July baby, like Taylor, a holiday baby herself.

Suddenly the words, “No heartbeat” knock the breath out of their lungs, taking with it the life they had planned for their family. Now it was replaced by questions and an unclear path forward. “What happens now?” They were given the option to induce labor now or may return at a later time. Either way, the end result would be the same.

They returned to the hospital shortly after gathering their things at home, and the process of induction began. The next 12 hours were filled with fearful thoughts becoming honest conversations:

“What if she looks too perfect?”

“How will I be able to look at her?”

“Will I want to hold her?”

“How will I know when it’s time to leave her?”

“How will I leave her?”

“Will I ever be able to have another baby?”

“How do I decide on a funeral home?”

A bereavement folder stared at them from the bedside table, reminding them of the decisions they would have to make all while contractions began and labor escalated. Labor was swift, a quick summit to the mountain of anticipation racing through their thoughts. When the time came to deliver, Taylor was calm, collected, and a pillar of strength– a mother. The knotted cord, a symbol of finality and a bond never to be forgotten by those in the delivery room. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Indie Jac Williams, born July 3rd at 7:52 pm, too perfect for this world. From your dark curly hair to your daddy’s nose, what we wouldn’t give to know you, sweet girl. I am so proud and honored to call Tay and Abe my best friends. They have been navigating a journey that no parent should ever have to and are doing so with such grace.

Please help me in raising money to cover medical bills, recovery, and celebrating their baby girl in Heaven. There are no words to accurately describe what they are going through but thank you to both of them for trusting me to try. My hope is to make the load a little lighter and to remind them that they are not alone. In a time when grief feels vast and overwhelming, may we show them that so too is their community.

May Indie be the reminder to us all to stop and notice the beauty and wonder in our everyday lives and be humbled by the fragility of it all. We may not get to hold you, but we will never forget you, Indie Jac.