By Michael & Rochelle Carroll
Parents to Harrison and Theodore
Harrison was stillborn in December 2020
Theodore was born too early to survive in June 2024
In 2014, we had a miscarriage. Following that, we brought Isaac and Charlotte into the world. In 2020, we were honestly so excited to fall pregnant with Harrison. We were thrilled that he would be so close in age to our daughter, and we were ready to have our final baby at home.
Everything was progressing normally throughout the pregnancy until our 20-week scan. Harrison was measuring behind on his growth charts, and there were concerns about his intestines. My OB referred us to a local maternal fetal medicine specialist who confirmed there were some concerning markers. Genetic testing came back normal, leaving our doctors stumped. We were then referred to St. Louis, where additional scans and bloodwork led doctors to suspect Harrison might have Hirschsprung’s disease, though they wouldn’t know for sure until after birth.
The plan was to continue regular appointments and travel to St. Louis for monitoring. We planned to deliver there, where Harrison would likely go straight into surgery and the NICU. At no point were we worried about losing him before birth. As expected, we were worried about surgery and the NICU, but despite the fears, added appointments, and uncertainty, we were confident we would be bringing home a baby. No matter what challenges he faced, we loved him and were willing to do whatever it took to give him the best life possible.
At 28 weeks, I went to labor and delivery because I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt him move. I called my husband before leaving and told him something felt off, but assured him I was probably overreacting and he didn’t need to come.
I’ll never forget calling him from the hospital room and telling him our baby’s heart had stopped beating.
The next day, we were induced. Our nurse prayed over us, and Harrison arrived that afternoon. The silence upon his arrival echoed louder than anything I’d ever heard. My husband looked at me and said, “It’s a boy, Chelle.” Up to that point, we didn’t know his gender.
When the nurse laid him on my chest, I remember being in awe of how warm he was, how heavy he was, and how beautiful he was.
We first connected with On Angels’ Wings that night. Our labor and delivery nurse offered to contact the organization, and despite the heaviness, shock, and heartbreak, we were thankful for the opportunity to have professional photos of our boy. Not long after Harrison’s birth, Michelle (the founder of OAW) walked into our room. She looked at our son and told us how beautiful he was. She picked him up with such care and treated him like any other newborn while still respecting the gravity of the moment.
Harrison was born during COVID, and we couldn’t have visitors. Other than my husband and our medical team, Michelle was the only other person who got to hold him. That’s incredibly special to me, and I’m glad it was her.
After losing Harrison, I struggled internally for a long time. On his first birthday, I started The Harrison Project, a library of children’s books we provide to labor and delivery departments for families experiencing stillbirth. We went into the hospital in complete shock and hadn’t thought about what we would do with him once he arrived. Through The Harrison Project, we’ve been able to provide books to hundreds of families across Missouri so they have something to read to their child in those moments together.
Most importantly, The Harrison Project is our way of keeping Harrison’s story alive. It’s our way of giving purpose to his life and death, our way of celebrating and loving him.
Three and a half years later, we finally felt ready to try again. After countless negative genetic tests and with no explanation for Harrison’s loss, our doctor gave us the green light. Seeing those two pink lines in February 2024 brought overwhelming joy mixed with anxiety and fear. We chose to move forward with faith and the belief that this pregnancy would be different.
Our children were excited about having a new sibling, though we also saw hints of fear in their questions. Completing our family finally felt within reach. But when you’ve experienced loss, you never completely forget it. Even while hoping for the best, we quietly prepared for the worst.
A few months into the pregnancy, I began experiencing spotting. As the weeks went on, the bleeding worsened. I made countless trips to the emergency room and labor and delivery before eventually being hospitalized with critically low hemoglobin levels. I underwent multiple iron infusions and eventually needed a blood transfusion.
Each time I saw Theodore’s strong heartbeat on the monitor, my faith was renewed. He was thriving despite my body failing.
After my transfusion, I was transferred to St. Louis for specialized care. As my condition continued to deteriorate, doctors recommended a D&E procedure multiple times. That’s when the real fear set in. I was terrified of losing my baby, terrified of losing my life, terrified of making the wrong decisions, and terrified of leaving my living children without their mother.
My husband and I chose to keep fighting. We wanted Theodore to stay right where he was and continue growing. We prayed against all odds that we would both be okay. The goal was to make it to 22 weeks, the point at which the hospital could attempt life-saving measures.
But after continued bleeding and passing clots, my body made the decision for me. I went into labor naturally at 21 weeks and four days, just three days shy of the viability milestone.
Theodore was born alive and fought for 38 precious minutes before dying in my arms.
As soon as I went into labor, I reached out to Michelle. Knowing Theodore wouldn’t have the opportunity to fight for his life outside the womb, I wanted to make sure we had photographs of him. She quickly found a photographer to come to our room in St. Louis. Theodore was born en caul (still in the amniotic sac), and we had the sweetest nurse who held my hand throughout labor. Having experienced loss before didn’t make going through another traumatic birth any easier.
Now, after losing both of our boys, grief is complicated.
For me, one of the hardest parts is my fear of forgetting the little things—their features, dates, and details. Part of me wants to stay lost in grief because that’s where I feel closest to them. When I allow myself to feel joy, sometimes I feel guilty, like I’m moving farther away from them.
But we are learning to cope together. Through therapy and intentional traditions, we celebrate their lives on birthdays and special dates. We include them in family photos and during holidays. We are doing our best to make memories with them as part of our lives.
Harrison is creating a beautiful legacy through The Harrison Project, and Theodore was our sweet rainbow that faded too quickly. I will never forget his tiny features, his wisps of hair, and his perfect little fingers and toes.
I want people to know that Theodore and Harrison are just as important to us as Isaac and Charli. They are a huge part of our family. We want their lives to mean something. We want people to smile when we say their names in the same way they smile when we talk about our living children.
We’re still finding ways to carry on Theodore’s legacy. We include his Molly Bear in family photos, celebrate his birthday, and talk about him whenever we have the opportunity.
The support On Angels’ Wings has provided has helped us move forward. Because of the beautiful pictures they took of Harrison and Theodore, I don’t have to worry about forgetting the details I fear losing. Events like Making Memories Day and Wave of Light have given our children opportunities to celebrate their brothers while also providing us with a sense of community.
I participated in the Grief Recovery Method after losing Harrison. Before the program, I was stuck. Participating in the grief recovery helped me to not feel so alone. It gave me a safe place to feel comfortable sharing my grief openly for the first time without judgement. It jump started my road to healing and, though I didn’t know it at the time, it helped prepare me to grieve Theodore in healthier ways.
I would tell any family that On Angels’ Wings offers genuine support in moments of complete loss and darkness. They provide support without judgment. They capture hard but beautiful memories. They create opportunities to continue making memories after loss.
They change stories.
