Halleigh May’s Story — The Day Our World Changed

Halleigh May’s Story — The Day Our World Changed

This is the post I’ve both dreaded and needed to write.
It’s the story of our daughter, Halleigh May. The story of how she came into our lives, how she changed us forever, and how we’re learning to live in a world without her in our arms — but forever in our hearts.

If you read my intro post, you already have a bit of an idea of her story. But I want to share it in full — everything we experienced, from the shock of finding out we were pregnant, to the heartbreak of losing her, and the raw moments in between.

We found out we were pregnant around Christmas time, and at the time, I wasn’t even 17 yet, and Gavin was 18. It was a total shock — we were young, scared, and unsure of what the future would hold. But even in the fear, we loved her instantly. The second that test turned positive, something inside both of us changed. We were going to be parents.

At our first ultrasound around 10 weeks, we saw our little bean and heard her heartbeat for the very first time. It was the sweetest, strongest sound I’d ever heard. And in that moment, every bit of fear started to melt away. She made us braver — made us excited for the life we were building.

Through all the appointments, all the scans, Halleigh was perfect. Healthy heartbeat, strong kicks, growing right on track. My pregnancy was smooth and safe — or so we thought. Everything looked so promising, so full of life.

Because she was doing so well, and because Gavin’s mom is a registered midwife, we decided to plan a home water birth. It felt like the most peaceful way to bring her into the world — surrounded by love, in the hands of someone who loved her already. We continued going to regular doctor appointments while also doing home visits, feeling prepared and hopeful.

Then came the weekend that everything changed.

I woke up one morning and noticed she hadn’t kicked. At first, I told myself not to panic. Sometimes babies are just a little quiet. But after another hour passed with no movement, something in my heart knew — something was wrong.

We went straight to the emergency room. They did an ultrasound. And then came the words that shattered us:
“There’s no heartbeat.”

In that moment, it felt like my heart stopped too. Or maybe it broke into a million pieces. Our baby girl — who we had dreamed of, talked to, planned for, loved with every ounce of our being — was gone.

But even in our grief, the world didn’t pause. Immediately, we were met with decisions:
Do you want to see her?
Do you want to bury or cremate her?
Do you want pain medication during labor?

It was too much, too fast. I was scared. I was numb. I was hurting in a way I didn’t know was possible. But somehow, through the fear, I knew one thing — I wanted to bring her into the world with love.

So I went through natural labor. And when Halleigh May was born, the room was quiet. But Gavin looked at me with tears in his eyes and said,
“She’s so beautiful.”

And she was. She was perfect. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, the sweetest face I’ve ever seen. She looked so peaceful.

But with every beautiful moment came another wave of pain. After two days of holding her, loving her, memorizing every little feature... it was time to leave the hospital.

How do you leave without your baby?
How do you say goodbye forever to someone you barely got to say hello to?

The silence in that room was deafening.

Now we’re home. And the grief hasn’t gone away — it never will. But we’re learning how to live with it. To carry it. To honor her through how we live. That’s why we created this blog — to keep Halleigh’s memory alive, to share our journey through grief, and to help others walking this same heartbreaking path.

We may never stop grieving, but we’re choosing to grow alongside it.
We’re choosing to find light in the darkest places.
We’re choosing to keep going — for her.

Thank you for being here with us. Thank you for remembering Halleigh May.
And thank you for walking this journey of grief, grace, and growing up — with us.

With love,
Gracie