Moria’s Story

In 2018, my husband, Brian and I had been trying to get pregnant for almost three years. Shortly after, we realized Brian had a low sperm count and he started infertility treatments called Clomid. He had only been using Clomid for two or three months when we realized that we needed to get off of it.

I remember laying on the bathroom floor on my knees, surrendering to God and His timing. “Lord, you know our hearts desire to be parents. If You allow us that opportunity, we will raise this child to know You”.

Only a few months later, we found out we were pregnant—and we had conceived naturally. But the excitement didn’t last long when we soon realized that our nine week old baby didn’t have a heartbeat. We had not even shared the joy of our baby announcement with our parents yet, and now we were grieving a baby they had no idea even existed.

I remember sitting on the floor that was supposed to one day be our nursery room, crying out to the Lord saying, “I’m not sure I will ever understand why this happened.”

A few months after the loss of our first baby, we found out we were pregnant again. With guarded hearts, we learned that this sweet baby was alive, growing, and had a strong heartbeat. Soon we found out this little one was a boy and before he was born decided on the name Roman Sol – which means, “strong, powerful peace”. 

At 34 weeks pregnant, my water broke unexpectedly. We had not done our hospital tour yet and we had no hospital bag packed. When we arrived to the hospital we were told that we would be checked into labor and delivery once a room was available to deliver our son. While in shock, the triage nurse told us to prepare for our son to come out not breathing. 

I remember my husband and I immediately looking at each other and not being in agreement with her. We prayed against the idea that Roman would be born not breathing. She must not have known our God and what He was capable of.

Once a labor and delivery room was open, we turned on soft Christian worship music and began the pitocin. After an epidural, 12 hours of waiting, and 45 minutes of pushing,  Roman was born on January 11, 2020. Breathing. Praise the Lord he was born breathing! We had an entire team of NICU nurses in the room ready to whisk him away, but it wasn’t necessary.

Although our prayers were answered and Roman was born breathing, hospital protocol says babies born earlier than 36 weeks gestation must stay in the NICU for monitoring.

Brian and I stayed at the hospital for the entire duration of Roman’s NICU stay, sleeping in their free, first-come, first-served hospital room lodging. Waking up like clock work to pump and rush the small amounts of milk my body was making down to his room. Treating ourselves to free food courtesy of the NICU family room: turkey and cheese sandwiches for lunch and dinner unless family brought us food. 

I remember breaking down around the ninth day of our stay—crying during the doctors rounds, and praying in those last days before our hospital release, “Lord, help us be the best parents for this boy and help him continue to grow big and strong.” 

Finally, the doctors had cleared Roman of jaundice. His heart rate was consistently normal and he was taking his full feedings regularly. After 12 days in the NICU, we were able to take our 4 pound 15 ounce boy home.

Roman was three months old, when we found out we were pregnant again. We weren’t trying, but we also weren’t preventing. We didn’t think there was any way after three years of trying that we would get pregnant so soon after.

Our pregnancy was yet again “normal,” and in a matter of weeks we found out that we had been blessed with another son. We always liked biblical first names and the meaning behind one’s name, but we really liked for God to direct us in choosing the names of our children. Before he was born, Brian and I decided on the name Noah Wilde, which means, “rest and comforter.”

When I was 34 weeks, I found out at my regular OBGYN appointment that my cervix was already dilated to two centimeters. Because of Covid restrictions, I was alone and emotional.

I remember sobbing while sitting in the chair my husband should have been in, telling our doctor I desperately didn’t want a NICU stay with Noah. I wanted to go in and have an unmedicated birth like I planned from the beginning, then take my sweet baby home the next day. The emotions of this day were a preview of what was to come.

Only days later, I felt off. It was a Friday and our OBGYN had no appointments so they suggested the hospital. At triage, Brian and I were told that Noah was okay and it was possible that maybe I was just dehydrated. They decided to keep us overnight for monitoring since I was now dilated to four centimeters. Through the night, I had no contractions and Noah’s heartbeat was strong. Noah displayed positive stress test results and before we were discharged I was told to take it easy.

Within 24 hours, I noticed Noah had not been as active as normal. I reached out to the travel nurse who had delivered Roman and she told me to immediately go to the hospital. Once we got there, our worst nightmare was confirmed. Noah’s heart had stopped.

I remember looking at my husband, throwing my glasses off my face, and saying, “How is this God’s plan for us?” My first sentence after heart-wrecking news. I had immediate flashbacks to our last triage nurse saying that Roman wouldn’t come out breathing and right then and there, I prayed against the doctors diagnosis of my unborn son who was still “safe” in my stomach.

The hours that followed were a blur. Again with the pitocin, again with the epidural. Those 12 hours that followed were spent lying awake talking to God. Pleading with Him to perform a miracle for Noah. Believing that the doctors had it all wrong and that the Lord was going to move in a mighty way—a way that only He could.

Soon it was time to meet our boy, and after 15 minutes of pushing, Noah Wilde Rooney was born on March 9, 2021. Completely silent—except for our own weeping and the tangible presence of the Holy Spirit.

I remember Noah being laid on me and laying my hand on his chest, begging the Lord to breathe life back into his lungs. Believing that the Lord could perform a miracle. Knowing that I had the mustard-seed faith for Him to move mountains. Believing with everything in my bones that Noah could be healed on this side of eternity. 

The next weeks and months after Noah died was painful. At first, I questioned God and His plan for us. I questioned why we even conceived. I was angry that the doctors didn’t keep me in the hospital when I was already dilated. I was angry that if I had stayed that they could have noticed something was off and took measures to save him.

I didn’t understand how things changed so drastically in 24 hours. I desperately wanted answers knowing that none of them would bring me the comfort of having my son healthy and in my arms again. Nothing made sense, even worship seemed foreign.

I remember my grandma saying, “Praise Him anyway.” In the same week, my aunt said, “Don’t lose Your faith.” And so we did just that.

Brian and I immediately jumped back into the Word. We started a faith-based devotional to help us communicate our grief. We purposefully said no to get-togethers and we valued our family time together on an entirely new level. 

My relationships instantly took a back seat. As much as I wanted to engage in the seemingly meaningless conversations, I simply couldn’t muster up the courage to continuously answer the question, “How are you?” —even if they meant well. My mind was grieving on autopilot and I was putting what energy I had into ensuring my marriage didn’t fall apart, my faith didn’t fall apart, and that I was being a good mom to Roman.

About four months after Noah had died, I found the Lord tugging at my heart for the ministry, Mother of Wilde. That started an entirely new healing journey for me, being able to connect with bereaved mothers who had lost children. Their stories were all different and many longed to find hope after child loss and keep the faith. I was inspired by them, so I kept going.

It seems like I blinked and Roman’s second birthday rolled around, then Noah’s first heavenly birthday was shortly after. On Noah’s birthday, we had a family day at the beach, got donuts, and reflected. Everything I thought Noah would have loved if he would have been here. The day was truly bittersweet and Jesus was so, so evident.

Truly, I believe the recent depth and growth I experienced in my faith was something that could have only been done in a place of darkness, pain, and suffering. As I reflect, I consider it a gift that God gave me through Noah’s life. This ministry was another gift that God gave me through Noah’s life.

I was nine months into our ministry and 13 months into our grief for Noah, when we found out we were pregnant again. This came as a total shock for Brian and I. We had not been trying or preventing but knew that God would bless our family when He felt like our hearts were ready.

I had just come back from a Hope Mommies retreat for bereaved mothers in Texas and was overwhelmed at how much the Lord revealed to me there. I thought maybe my body was just emotionally and physically exhausted from the travel and overstimulation of talking about babies that are no longer here—but in fact, it was confirmed that the Lord was ready for our family to grow again.

Pregnancy after loss is just as traumatic as loss in many ways. I couldn’t grasp the reality that I could grow another baby that I might never be able to take home. I couldn’t mentally accept the “congratulations” I received because they didn’t feel as congratulatory this time; but deep down I knew this baby should be celebrated.

We found out in June 2022 that we were expecting a daughter. Our first daughter, who we named Eden Cove, which means, “place of pleasure and delight.” With her arrival set for Thanksgiving 2022, I am cherishing every day with Eden in my womb. We are guarded, but hopeful. I long for the day that Eden is in my arms and breathing, but I’m constantly reminded that there’s always a possibility that this may not be our story.

New life doesn’t take away the pain of losing a child, but it’s a gentle reminder to rejoice over this new life we have been given. To celebrate every new day and every movement. Every movement is a reminder to pray against fear and anxiety, and ask for the Lord’s protection over this child and our family.

Moria Rooney is a Christ-follower, wife, mother, and founder of the ministry, Mother of Wilde. Moria is based out of Wilmington, North Carolina and has been married to her husband, Brian, for eight years. Together, they have four children—two are in heaven. Moria is passionate about pouring hope and healing into the loss community through her ministry.

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