When we began planning our family in 2019, we were a young couple in our first year of marriage. We were not prepared for the disappointment of negative pregnancy tests, but we kept trying, determined to grow our family. After eighteen long months, we received the best Christmas surprise—Kauri was pregnant with our son, Lincoln. We were overjoyed and couldn’t believe the moment had finally come. Our little family was about to grow.

Lincoln by NILMDTS Affiliated Photographer Ali Furtwangler

Lincoln’s due date was August 30, 2021, and time seemed to creep by just as slowly as it had while we were trying to conceive. We spent those months preparing for our baby—planning his room, picking out outfits, and doing all the things an expectant couple dreams of. Lincoln grew stronger with each passing week, and so did our love for him. Every ultrasound looked perfect. Feeling him move for the first time is a memory we will treasure forever.

We threw him a baby shower with friends and family to celebrate his upcoming arrival. When his due date came and went, we were reassured that it was normal to go a bit beyond, but were told not to exceed 42 weeks. Hoping he would come naturally, we scheduled an induction for September 9, 2021, just in case labor hadn’t begun by then.

The contractions never came.

A few days before the induction, Kauri went in for a routine non-stress test while Nathan waited in the car, due to COVID protocols. He expected her to return quickly, just as she had after every appointment before.

But this time was different.

During the test, the nurse strapped the monitor around Kauri’s belly but couldn’t find a heartbeat. She left to get the doctor, who soon returned with the words no parent should ever hear: “There’s no heartbeat.”

Kauri texted Nathan that she needed him. He rushed inside, only to be led to a back room where the doctor repeated the devastating news. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing. How could this be happening? Shock, denial, anger, and even hope for a miracle washed over us.

Instead of preparing to take Lincoln home, Kauri was induced to deliver our stillborn son.

Labor stretched on longer than the eighteen months we spent trying to conceive and longer than the pregnancy itself. We wanted to wake up from the nightmare, to hold our baby alive and well. After twelve long hours, Lincoln was born and laid skin-to-skin on Kauri’s chest—just like any other newborn. He had hair, and he carried the Wohosky hands and ears. He was beautiful. He looked perfect. He just wasn’t alive.

Lincoln by NILMDTS Affiliated Photographer Ali Furtwangler

All our dreams—seeing him grow, holding him, hearing him laugh—slipped away in that moment. Instead of joyful congratulations, we were met with visits from the hospital social worker and chaplain. Though kind, their words felt empty. We didn’t want comfort—we wanted our son.

One shining light in the darkness was Kauri’s labor and delivery nurse. On the whiteboard, we had written his name: Lincoln Brion, his middle name shared with Nathan and Nathan’s dad. Our nurse told us her father’s name was Brian, and she had named her firstborn daughter Brianna in his honor. She shared that she, too, had lost her daughter in a way similar to how we lost Lincoln. Her understanding brought us comfort no one else could have given. We believe she was placed in our path at just the right time to remind us that we were not alone, and that parenthood—even through loss—was still part of our story.

We held our boy. We cherished him. We didn’t want those moments to end, even though we couldn’t take him home the way we dreamed. Saying goodbye to Lincoln’s still body was the hardest thing we’ve ever done. He looked so peaceful, and we knew God was with us.

The hospital offered remembrance photography through Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. At first, we hesitated. Lincoln was born just before midnight, and the photos wouldn’t be taken until morning. Waiting felt unbearable. But our nurse gently encouraged us, reminding us that even if we weren’t ready now, one day we might be grateful to have them.

Six months later, we were ready to look. The photos took our breath away. Lincoln looked so peaceful, so beautiful. We weren’t prepared for how much comfort they would bring. Now, as memories fade, we are deeply grateful to have those images to reflect on his presence, his life, and the love we will always carry for him.

After a restless night, it was time to leave the hospital. Our nurse, who had returned for another shift, came to check on us one last time. Before we left, she handed Kauri a blue teddy bear. “I didn’t want you to leave with empty arms,” she said.

The bear wasn’t our boy. It couldn’t replace him. But that simple gesture of love meant more than words can say. We left the hospital without a birth certificate, without a death certificate, and without our baby—but not entirely empty-handed. Kauri clutched that bear close as we walked past couples joyfully carrying their newborns home. That small act of compassion gave us strength when we had none.

Through our faith, we found peace. Even when we couldn’t see it, we trusted that God had a plan for us and had placed the right people in our path at just the right moments.

Lincoln by NILMDTS Affiliated Photographer Ali Furtwangler

That act of kindness inspired us to start our nonprofit, Loved by Lincoln. Our mission is to offer other grieving families the same comfort and hope that our nurse gave us. We know the pain of leaving the hospital without your baby. We know the emptiness that follows. We hope to provide parents with something to hold onto—a reminder that their child is loved and remembered.

By sharing Lincoln’s story, we have received so much love—not only from friends and family, but from people we’ve never met. Even though Lincoln’s life was short, the love we felt from him will never fade.

For anyone who has lost a baby or child, know this: your child loved you, and their light will never be forgotten. We all have our own “Lincoln,” and in that love, we are all Loved by Lincoln.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, a dedicated 501(c)(3) non-profit, offers families experiencing pregnancy and infant loss with complimentary remembrance portraits, capturing precious moments with their babies. Your generous donation can help us extend this heartfelt service to more families in need. Please consider supporting us here.