I am ever so aware of those older and wiser folks in my own life, and I try to appreciate and respect them in the best ways I know how. They are my parents, former teachers, and treasured friends and family who have gone before me, paving the path of life lessons and hard decisions. I love them.

But then there are the people who don’t follow that natural order of things. They aren’t “older and wiser” necessarily and they just don’t fit into that traditional profile of a mentor or a guide. Rather than a perspective shaped by years and years of life and experience, they are instead given a storm to weather much too young.

Meet Tara. Tara and I grew up together in small town Arkansas, attending the same school and church and running in the same social circles. A year behind me in school, Tara was like a little sister, and as we both graduated and moved on from our little hometown we kept in touch through the wonders of Facebook and periodic trips back home.

I grew up an Army kid and my parents moved again after I graduated so I sometimes worried about how strongly I’d be able to stay connected to my “hometown”. But I needn’t have worried. Friends like Tara made me feel like I’d never left. A genuine friend, having known and loved me during the awkward coming-of-age years and now as a young adult. A familiar face during those visits “home” when all I wanted was to hug and connect with a person who knew me – who got me. I just love it when friends know they’re family.

But a storm was rolling in.

Tara married in 2009, and in 2011 found out she would soon be a mama. She and her husband Evan were thrilled, and they couldn’t wait to be parents. But their path of parenthood would be rocky. At a dangerously-too-early 21 weeks, Tara delivered a precious baby boy named Aidan Thomas and immediately surrendered him as an angel. This sweet girl, having waited her whole life to be a mommy, left the hospital with empty arms and a heavy heart.

A friend once pointed out to me there is no word in the English language for a mother who has lost a child. There are words like orphan and widow — but no label, no name for a childless mother.

And in the months that followed Aidan’s birth, Tara began to navigate her new role as just that. Her life is something the world finds hard to grasp. We don’t even know what to call it. The idea of a parent losing a child is just impossible to make sense of.

But through all the senselessness and all the grief and all the heartache — Tara never stopped being Aidan’s mommy. When she had every excuse in the world to hide her heart and drown in her own tears – she did everything but. She became Aidan’s voice and his biggest cheerleader. She told his story – their story – to anyone who would listen. She didn’t hide her grief and keep her little boy a secret. She celebrated him every day. She became an advocate for March of Dimes and Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and she became an advocate for mothers like herself who — regardless of our world not knowing what to call them — have a story to tell and a heart to share.

Knowing and loving Tara through the last few years has been an incredible inspiration to me as a mom and as a person. Seeing her bravery and her strength, in the midst of unspeakable pain, is overwhelming.

This past October, Tara told me they were expecting again. Honestly, I was scared to death for her. This time, they knew how to prepare and the doctors knew what would give the baby the best chance. Tara was on bed-rest from the start and took every word of the doctor’s advice. They had a plan, and they prepared themselves for what would surely lie ahead.

I can’t even imagine the emotions surging through her heart during this second pregnancy. Balancing her grief over the loss of Aidan, with the joy and anticipation of this child. As the weeks passed, they learned they would have a second son. It’s a boy! Each week was a gift and meant one more step toward a healthy delivery.

21 weeks. When Aidan was born. Such a hard week of swirling emotions.

24 weeks. Viability.

25… 26… 27…

When Tara got to 30 weeks she couldn’t believe it, and neither could the rest of us. Following her weekly photo updates on Facebook, I always expected her next update to be from the hospital, but there she was – still pregnant.

Each week – they had a plan. ‘If he’s born TODAY, here’s what you can expect. Here’s what we’ll need to do.’ But the weeks kept ticking off.

32… 33… 34…

The doctors were mystified. There was no medical reason for Tara to still be pregnant. She had defied the odds of her incompetent cervix and was looking at a healthy delivery.

Kellan Kent was born at 37 weeks. 6 lbs, 11 oz. 21 inches long. THAT is a healthy boy, my friends. This sweet family had once prepared themselves for what might be weeks upon weeks in the NICU. Kellan was there less than two days.

Strong body. Strong heart. Strong faith. Tara is everything I want to be as a mom. She is the mommy of two incredible little miracles — one in her arms, and one forever in her heart.

 

Written by Sarah Hood. Sarah lives in Fayetteville with her husband Jeff and their four-year-old kiddo Colt – cheering the Razorbacks and soaking up as much Fayettechill culture as possible. Sarah blogs at Musings of Mother Hood where she writes what she knows: full-time parenting a preschooler, a full-time job in advertising, a running habit — and somewhere, somehow finding some balance. Also catch Sarah on Facebook and Twitter.