By Stevie Inman
Mommy to Ian and Frankie
Ian was stillborn in 2019
Rainbow baby Frankie was born in January 2024
In 2018, we experienced an early miscarriage. Then, in 2019, we found out we were pregnant again with what we hoped would be our rainbow baby. We were so excited to finally become parents. We planned the nursery, bought little clothes, made baby name lists, and dreamed about baby showers and bringing our son home. Everything first-time parents imagine, we imagined too.
My pregnancy was difficult from the very beginning. I was sick from the day I found out I was pregnant until the day I delivered. I traveled frequently for work, and while I was in Houston, Texas, at 20 weeks, I began having complications. The labor and delivery department wouldn’t see me, so I had to go through the emergency room, where I was diagnosed with preeclampsia. I made it back home to Springfield, but my doctor disagreed with that diagnosis. We ended up in labor and delivery three different times before I was finally diagnosed with HELLP syndrome and induced.
While I was in labor, our nurse suggested calling On Angels’ Wings. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea at first, but she gently told me I could always decline once the photographer arrived—and that I might want those memories someday. She was right.
Ian was stillborn in 2019. Having those photographs reminds us that he was here, too. They remind us to be gentle with ourselves and with others, and they have become some of our most treasured possessions.
After losing Ian, we didn’t know if we’d ever have another child. Then, in August 2023, we found out we were pregnant again—completely unexpectedly. We knew the risks and complications we had already faced, but we hoped this time would be different. Our expectations looked very different than they had before. We didn’t buy anything for the baby or make many plans. We decided we would figure everything out if we got to bring our baby home. We learned the gender, talked about names, and our only birth plan was that everyone would survive and leave the hospital.
This pregnancy was monitored much more closely with a different medical team. When we reached 23 weeks, we finally started to relax, believing we had made it through the most dangerous part. We were wrong.
At 25 weeks and 3 days, just after Christmas, complications returned. I was admitted to labor and delivery two days before Christmas but was able to go home on Christmas Day. On January 2, 2024, I underwent an emergency C-section, and Frankie was born.
At first, things seemed stable. But just two days later, I received a call from the NICU in the middle of the night telling me to come downstairs immediately. Frankie had suffered a pulmonary hemorrhage, and the team was doing everything they could to save him. After he stabilized, we returned to my room hoping to get a little rest. Only hours later, our world changed again.
Doctors told us Frankie had suffered bilateral Grade IV brain bleeds. His best chance of survival was at a larger hospital. We were given devastating odds and told to hold on to hope. A few days later, he was life-flighted to Children’s Mercy Kansas City.
There, we were told he had little chance of survival, and if he did survive, his quality of life would likely be very limited. We also learned he had bronchopulmonary dysplasia (BPD) and would need significant respiratory support while his lungs healed. By then, we were numb. We were grieving while living through a nightmare no family should ever experience.
Frankie spent 212 days in the NICU—five days at Cox and 207 days at Children’s Mercy. The staff at Cox wrapped us in love immediately and prepared us for the transition to Kansas City. Children’s Mercy felt much more clinical at first, but before long we discovered just how deeply that team cared too. Unfortunately, the policies at Children’s Mercy would not allow On Angels’ Wings to come in and take pictures during Frankie’s long stay there — though we certainly tried.
During those seven months, Josh stayed home during the week to work, care for our dogs, and even transform a bedroom into Frankie’s nursery while I moved in with my sister near the hospital. He drove to Kansas City every weekend to be with us. My sister and Josh’s aunt helped me through those long NICU days, and we leaned on all of them more than they’ll ever know.
Frankie battled infections, self-extubations, two neurosurgeries, retinopathy of prematurity that required both forms of treatment, prolonged oxygen support, and delays with feeding. Once he finally began bottle feeding, we learned he was aspirating and had to thicken every feeding. Our final hurdle before coming home was placing a G-tube so we could continue feeding therapy safely at home.
He came home on oxygen and a monitor but was quickly able to come off oxygen. One of our first priorities when he came home was to get pictures of him like we’d wanted for so long. Frankie’s first pictures from On Angels’ Wings were done in their Springfield studio for his first birthday. We cherish them and are grateful that he gets annual photos each year.
Today, Frankie is overcoming every obstacle placed before him. He is strong, determined, resilient, smart, and incredibly funny. He never got the memo that he was a preemie or that he wasn’t supposed to accomplish all the things he does. He works a little harder than most children his age, but he loves therapy, and we celebrate every victory. Delayed doesn’t mean never. We don’t limit him because of his diagnosis—we encourage him to try hard things, keep trying when they don’t work the first time, and surprise everyone with what he’s capable of.
Frankie loves sharing his victories with the NICU teams who cared for him. Watching them celebrate his progress alongside us is incredibly special.
Losing Ian made us kinder and gentler people. Frankie’s journey has taught us to slow down and find joy in the smallest moments. He’s shown us that a diagnosis should never define someone’s potential. We simply feel lucky to have such an amazing little boy.
As Frankie grows, we hope to watch him continue walking, talking, and eating more on his own. We can’t wait to see him start school because he is such a social butterfly. And as he grows, he’ll always know about his big brother. We celebrate Ian’s birthday every year by leaving balloons, toys, and little gifts at his grave. Frankie will always know that Ian was our firstborn, that he was deeply loved, and that he was simply too beautiful for Earth.
The photographs from On Angels’ Wings tell both sides of our story. Ian’s photos remind us that his life mattered and preserve memories we would never have otherwise. Frankie’s photos capture the joy of watching him grow, overcome, and thrive. Looking back at Ian’s photos, I often think about how beautiful he was and how much Frankie looks like his big brother.
On Angels’ Wings has walked beside us through unimaginable grief and incredible joy. They loved us through the loss of Ian, celebrated our miracle with Frankie, and have continued reminding us that neither of our boys will ever be forgotten.
