The Beginning

I want to be completely raw and vulnerable with you because my story is a story of suffering and beauty. I was recently told that we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ. For some reason, that inspired me to share my story and to share my journey of grief and motherhood with you.

To truly understand our journey, we must start from the beginning.

My husband Colin and I met on a March for Life trip to Washington D.C. when I was fourteen and Colin seventeen. From there, it took a while for Colin to initiate dating, but we started dating and dated for a short period of time. I broke up with Colin and we kept that “love/hate” relationship for about a year.

Both of our families were involved in a movement within the Catholic faith, so we still had that connection. I remember seeing him his senior year of high school, when he got up in front of a group of families to share that he was doing a mission year with Regnum Christi. At that point, I was like, “Ah, what was I thinking? He was such a great, Catholic guy!” So, right before he left for his mission I sent him a text to tell him that I still had feelings for him and of course he played hard to get. Before he left, we met. He told me that if I waited the year that he was gone and didn’t date anyone then, then at that point we could talk about dating. But there were still no guarantees because he was discerning priesthood or it may just not work out.

Obviously, things did work out and God’s will was for us to marry. We married three years ago, on July 27, 2013. We were married at St. Anthony’s Catholic Church in Des Moines-, which was the same place Colin announced years prior that he would be doing his mission year with Regnum Christi.

Kim and Colin on their wedding day

In 2014, Colin and I had been trying to conceive for a couple months and in January 2015 found ourselves pregnant. I couldn’t believe it! I was so excited. Right away, I felt the connection with our baby. I knew at that moment, we were no longer two, but a family of three. Our love had expanded into this new form of life and we were responsible for loving, nurturing, and caring for our baby.

We kept our news to ourselves until about 9 weeks along in our pregnancy. To share the news, we got personalized wine labels that said, “Drink for me, baby Hurd arriving October 2015!” We gave our parents the bottles and both were thrilled. Right away, they were purchasing gender-neutral items and periodically stopping by to see how I was doing.

Overall, my first trimester was pretty “uneventful.” I was extremely exhausted from the beginning and felt really nauseous, but it was manageable. Not feeling so great was just a part of motherhood and I wanted to embrace it entirely.

At our first doctor’s appointment we were supposed to hear the heartbeat. I sat on the table and laid back. The doctor came in, put gel on my stomach and began the search for our little one. All we could hear was a sound that seemed like movement: swoosh, swoosh. The doctor turned to us and said the baby was moving. She told us that to elevate some of the stress of being first time parents she wanted to do an ultrasound. She said the baby is very active and that was a great sign. We went into the ultrasound room and there our baby was with such a strong heartbeat. It was all starting to feel real as we saw our baby on the screen.

As each day passed, I became more calm and the nerves began to subside. Society tells you that once you hear the heartbeat and/or make it past 12 weeks you are guaranteed a successful pregnancy. No one talks about the possibility of an in-utero diagnosis or infant loss.

Around 18 weeks, I started to experience pain and discomfort in my side. The doctor had me come in and we did an ultrasound of my kidneys to rule out a kidney stone. The tech looked around and did not see anything unusual. As she finished the ultrasound she asked if we would like to see our baby. Of course we did! So, she moved the wand down and there our baby was again with a healthy heartbeat and forming beautifully. She asked if we wanted to know the sex as she could tell. We had been going back on forth on whether we wanted to know or not. We decided we were going to find out, well, my patience decided in that moment that we would, anyways! She said, “It’s a boy!” Looking at Colin in that moment was unforgettable. He looked so full of joy. The tech told us that the doctor still wanted us to come in at our 20-week appointment and that we would be amazed at how much our baby would grow between now and then.

Kolbe Scott Hurd

Naming Our Son

We went back and forth throughout the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy. Finally, we decided upon a name that we thought was strong- Kolbe Scott Hurd. His first name was a result of two things. First, it came from St. Maximilian Kolbe. He was a strong saint and had a beautiful story in his devotion to God’s will. Second, that was literally the only name we both liked and could agree upon. His middle name came from Colin’s Dad’s name. His Dad passed away from Melanoma a year before we found out we were pregnant with Kolbe.  We wanted to incorporate his name in our son’s.

St. Maxmilian Kolbe, design by Cassie Pease Designs

20 Weeks

Our 20-week appointment was first-thing in the morning. We sat in the waiting room together waiting to be called back. They called us back and started the ultrasound. As I looked at our son on the screen I was a little concerned. I was recalling the tech’s comment about the growth we should see.  The tech kept pausing and got up. She did that a couple times during our appointment. The last time she left the room, I turned to Colin and said, “I think something is wrong.”

The tech returned and escorted us to one of the exam rooms. My eyes were filling up with tears. I knew something wasn’t right. The doctor walked in and told us that the baby wasn’t hitting the measurements they would anticipate at this point. In addition, she had some concerns with his heart. Her hands were full of pamphlets. She said for the remainder of my pregnancy I would need to be seen, in addition to these appointments, by a high risk OB/GYN. She gave me tissues and escorted us out without scheduling my 24- week appointment. I left thinking, “Did they not schedule my follow-up appointment because they think our son will die between now and then?”

There was no way we would be returning to work that day, so we left in our separate cars to meet at home. I was crying. I called my sister, Katie. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was wrong. I felt helpless. She answered. I sobbed. I couldn’t even speak. When we got home we sat on the couch and embraced one another. We sobbed. I will never forget that moment- the uncertainty, anxiety, and fear. The three of us just sat there.

Please check back for Kolbe's Legacy: Part Two, coming soon.