Today was supposed to be a very different day.

**I have something to share, and I’m sharing because my hope is it will help those suffering in silence to know they are not alone. **


Today was supposed to be the second most important day of my life.

Today we were supposed to meet our darling daughter in person, healthy.

Today Molly was supposed to become an official big sister.

Sadly, what should have happened and the reality of what did happen are very different. On December 20, 2015 our worlds shattered at the core as we were told that the daughter I was carrying had what they suspected was a fatal heart defect.  It was our 21 week ultrasound appointment, Molly was with us and, moments earlier in my OB office, we had selected May 7th as her c-section delivery date.  Taking great care to make sure it was far enough apart from Molly’s May 1 birthday so we could mitigate any sibling rivalry.  Nothing could have ever prepared us for the moments, hours, days that would come.

Due to the fact that the holidays were in full swing, we had a hard time getting an appointment with the Pediatric cardiac specialists.  I called my OB everyday, 3 times a day, asking for updates. Imagine what it’s like to be told that a 2 ton truck is coming to run you over, you see it, but there is nothing you can seem to do get it to change its course.  That’s what the days between Dec. 20 – Jan. 5 were like.  Finally, we were told about that a specialist was available to see us – January 5, 11am.

I prayed that morning.  To be honest, I had been praying since December 20th.   Praying to my Dad, to God, to anyone who would listen. But on the morning of January 5, I prayed in a different way.  I prayed for guidance, I prayed for strength and I prayed for me to be able to survive.

After the echocardiogram was done, the specialist walked us into a separate consultation room, similar to the room they took us into on Dec. 20.  (Side note: If anyone every asks me to ‘please step into the consultation room’ again, you will simply see the dust of me running as fast as possible in the opposite direction. Nothing good happens in those rooms.)  In that room we were told that there was no hope.  That our little girl had a serious, heart defect – the words, “non-compatible with life” came up several times.  We knew as we left that appointment that we would soon be delivering our angel. The days that followed were filled with numbness, anger, utter and complete heart break.

January 8, I was admitted into the hospital.  I was assigned nurses that I can only describe as angels on earth and I was surrounded by compassion, love, and understanding.  My OB, who I adore in so many ways, was on call that evening, providing some sense of familiarity in what was the most unfamiliar environment.  My husband, who I love more than I could ever imagine possible, held my hand at every step and together we walked down the path of grief as we prepared to meet, and say goodbye to, our daughter.

There were many horrific moments but none that shocked me more than the delivery.  I delivered my daughter, naturally, on Friday, January 9, 2015 and it was peaceful, spiritual.  A fellow Mom who suffered a loss said in one of my group sessions, “I gave birth to death”.   It’s true, I did, and it will be something I hold dear and treasure for the rest of my life.  We were able to hold her, to kiss her, to dress her and read her stories.  We were able to tell her how much she meant to us.

Because today would have been the day that I share pictures of our daughter on FB and Instagram, announcing her arrival and sharing our joy, I would like to introduce our daughter Olive Harper Allinson, stillborn January 9, 2015.  We have tremendous joy that she is a part of our lives and our family and she mattered to us.


I have two daughters. One here on earth and one in heaven.  I’m a Mom of an angel, the greatest tragedy and the greatest honour.  Molly is a big sister, except she is gifted with a little sister who is her guardian angel.

I’ve chosen to share our story because Olive mattered.  Through Olive’s story, I truly hope that those suffering in silence with infant/late pregnancy loss can find some sort of comfort.  You are not alone.

It may make you feel uncomfortable to hear stories of loss but I assure you, most of us like to speak about our children with the pride we feel inside. They mattered to us.

Olive, I will hold your heart on my sleeve and your spirit on my shoulder until the time we meet again.


Mom of an angel


This entry was posted in Daughter, Family, Mom, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Today was supposed to be a very different day.

  1. nlarkin says:

    Thank you for sharing Olive with all of us…big hugs xo xo

    Sent from Samsung tablet

  2. Ashlea Fong says:

    Amber your words are a beautiful tribute to little Olive . I am so saddened by your loss but also joyed that you were able to touch and hold her in your arms before she departed to be with you dad. Thinking of you and Ashley and Molly today .

  3. Marlene Gerow says:

    Such a loving tribute! I am touched beyond words—

  4. April 9 -14 years ago. That is the day my son Gabriel was born. He was my first and I can still remember every detail of all the tests and specialists appointments leading up to the conclusion, at 21 weeks, my baby would not survive. Like you, I delivered him peacefully and had a wonderful support team at Mt. Sinai in TO. Thank you for sharing the pictures, I never had the courage to develop mine, but if I close my eyes I can still see his tiny body. Smaller than a barbie doll. His little hat (made by ladies at Mt. Sinai) was white. Like Molly, my son Braedon (12) and Maria (9) know about their little guardian angel up in heaven. We talk openly about him and what happened now. While I am not overly religious, I found solace in the fact my husband decided to name our son Gabriel .. he said the name came to him in a dream. (The Angel Gabriel is the guardian of unborn children etc). It happened for a reason, life would have been too hard on him. It helped. The pain will lessen .. you will never forget Olive, and even though I am sitting here bawling my eyes out as I write this, I want to say thanks for sharing your story. It does help to know you are not alone.

  5. Val says:

    My heart aches for you.

  6. Jessica Park says:

    My heart is so broken right now reading this and I’ll never have the right words to say to you to make this right but know I’m here for you and I applaud your courage to share your story. Xo

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