Kollette’s Story
In December 2018, after an early loss in 2017 and one long year of fertility treatments, we were pregnant. I remember like it was yesterday—waking up that morning to take my test on the scheduled day per my treatments. Honestly, I expected it to be negative, but it wasn’t. Finally, we were going to have another baby.
Scan after scan our little girl continued to grow, her heart beating strong. She always measured a little further behind, but no one ever showed too much concern. We went back and forth on a name for her. We allowed our daughters to help pick a name. At first, they chose Princess Flower. Of course, that was quickly vetoed. Finally, they settled on the name Rose. “It was a flower,” my oldest justified when her younger sister continued to insist on the name “Flower.” |
Mommy chose her first name. I chose the name Landyn. Landyn Rose was set to join us August 21, 2019 and we were so excited. Heartbreakingly, that excitement would soon be over.
It was a beautiful Friday in May when we found out our little girl had a life-limiting diagnosis. I had just resigned my job the week before, letting them know that I would be staying home with our daughter and focusing on being a full-time mommy. I wanted nothing more than lazy days of snuggling our baby girl on the couch, to finally succeed at breast feeding, and to enjoy school dates with her sister. I went to my 28-week appointment alone and was told that there were some concerns for her size. I was then referred to a specialty hospital in Houston.
My mom, husband, and I pulled up the following Monday morning at Texas Children’s Hospital and went to the maternal fetal medicine floor. We filled out all the paperwork and settled in. Talking and fidgeting. We were all nervous. We were called back for our scan. The ultrasound tech was amazing—talking the entire time, commenting on how feisty and cute our girl was.
She told us that she had to go get the doctor to go over the findings and left. When she came back into the room with the doctor, the doctor asked why we were here. I told her that our baby had been measuring small and they thought she had IUGR. The look the doctor and tech shared said enough. That was not all that was going on.
The doctor sat down next to me with the screen and said that our Landyn, had a lot of abnormalities. I remember thinking, “Wait, what?” She said, “I am going to go over these with you. When you cannot hear anymore just tell me and I will stop.”
She began to list it all—clenched fists, horseshoe kidneys, heart defects, skull and brain defects. As she was talking, she said, “All of these abnormalities are consistent with Trisomy 18.” I knew what that meant. I screamed, “Stop!” Instantly, my husband, mother, the tech, and doctor were holding some part of my body as I began crying uncontrollably.
I remember thinking, that this wasn’t happening, it was supposed to be me that was sick. I am the one that gets ill. That’s what happened the last two times and that is what is supposed to happen this time. I am the one whose life should be in danger, not my baby’s. They let me cry for as long as I needed, and I did. I cried until I had no tears left.
We then had an emergency amniocentesis completed to confirm their findings. We made it very clear we would carry her either until God called her home or to term. So, they made all the appointments and set us up with the palliative care team. We had also told them that while we understood there were interventions out there, based on all her abnormalities, we would not be seeking those. We wanted her to know only love and comfort while on this earth. Our team was amazing, answering all our questions and helping us plan for her birth and death. With each person we encountered, from our genetics counselor to our neonatologist, we knew God had introduced us for a reason.
We prayed God’s will over her life, and we prayed for time. Many encouraged us to pray for healing, but God had placed it on my heart not long after her diagnosis that Landyn would not be coming home with us and healing was not in His will for her life. So, time was all I asked for. Time to see her and hold her alive. However, much time He would give me was all I wanted.
They scheduled her C-section at 36 weeks, and on July 25, 2019 at 2:06pm, Landyn Rose made her entrance into this world. Alive. She weighed 3lbs and 13oz and was 15 inches long. She had already beaten the odds. She was born alive. God had answered our prayers.
We had time, but she was fading fast. The doctors noticed this and rushed her to my chest. The second she touched my skin she peeped open one of her ocean blue eyes and looked at me. She let out a weak cry and took a shallow breath. She was going to fight for that time with us. My little warrior girl.
I kissed her 1000 times that day. I told her every second that I loved her. I even teased her because she was still a sticky mess. To this, she allowed her feisty personality to shine and pursed her lips at me. I marveled over her jet-black hair, full lips, and adorable nose. We even got a little smirk at one point, another prayer God answered for me. She was able to meet her grandparents, her aunts and uncles, her sisters, and her godmother.
She began to have apnea episodes, and we knew our time was coming to an end. We quickly changed her into a beautiful white gown, and she was dedicated to the Lord by her great uncle. During her dedication she breathed her last breath on this earth and opened her eyes in heaven at 5:17pm.
Though I wish God had other plans for our little warrior, I know that His love never fails. I know that we have the promise of forever with her. I know that while I am grieving, our God is with me, and who better to love my daughter in my absence than Him. While we wait for eternity, Landyn’s legacy will live on in us.
Because of Landyn, funds have been raised to further support Texas Children’s, helping other children and families in need. Because of Landyn, her father and I ran our first half marathon in her honor. Because of Landyn my counseling practice exists, and I help people every day overcome life’s trouble. Because of Landyn, family members have been reunited. Landyn’s legacy did not die with her. God insured that. Though many may not realize it, that little life has touched theirs and reached beyond the bounds of an empty cradle.
- Kollette Tolbert
Hope Mom to Rowyn and Landyn
Kollette is a Licensed Professional Counselor and mother of two babies on earth and two Hope Babies. She and her husband, Neal, are college sweet hearts who enjoy life in a small country town in South Texas. Kollette lost her first child, Rowyn, in 2017 early in her pregnancy. She experienced a second loss in 2019 of her daughter, Landyn, to Trisomy 18. Kollette’s instagram account, Fiercely Unbroken, shares her journey as a Hope Mommy and her new found love for running, and advocates for Trisomy 18 awareness.
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