I met Scott in August 1999, during my freshman year of college at Southern Nazarene University. He was older, tall, athletic, handsome, and had the kind of humor that lit up a room. Over time, he became part of my group of friends. I have so many memories of us playing games outside, hanging around ponds and horse ranches, and laughing with friends. He was nice with everyone in his life.
After college, I moved to Texas to start teaching while Scott joined the Marines. We each went our separate ways for a while. I moved to different cities and traveled the world, and Scott eventually left the military after an injury. He went back to school and started teaching college science classes.
In 2017, I got a Facebook message from Scott while I was on a planning break at my kindergarten job. It had been years since we’d spoken, but our small talk quickly turned into long, heartfelt messages. We opened up about everything our pasts, families, goals, and faith. When I went home for Christmas, we met halfway for lunch in Tulsa. What was supposed to be a quick catch-up turned into a 10-hour date. The instant I laid eyes on him again, I could feel that everything had changed.
A few months later, Scott proposed. We got married on September 1, 2018, at his childhood church. Our reception was on the farm we’d just bought. Life felt full we taught during the day, took care of our animals, and sold pies at farmer’s markets on weekends. Our biggest hope was to start a family, but after a year of trying, we learned IVF was our only option.
We traveled to Barbados for treatment. We ended up with one strong, healthy embryo from our first attempt.
I returned a second time with my mom, hoping for more. Just before flying back, I texted Scott one last time. I had no idea it would be our final conversation.
While I was in the air, Scott had a seizure and heart attack while teaching. As soon as I touched down, my phone was overwhelmed with messages.
A call to his mom confirmed the unthinkable Scott was in the ICU. I rushed to him. On February 19, 2020, I was told he wouldn’t make it. Two days later, I held his hand as life support was removed.
The grief that followed was heavy. I had to say goodbye, sell the farm, find a new job, and start over while healing from IVF, all during COVID. But I remembered the promise I made to Scott. We had embryos waiting, and I wasn’t giving up.
In August 2020, I returned to Barbados. I discovered I was expecting on the morning of September 7.
On May 3, 2021, I gave birth to our beautiful son, Hayes. He’s my light, my healing, and my reminder that love never dies.
Life hasn’t been easy. But I hold on to faith, hope, and the strength Scott left with me. Our story isn’t over. And I pray every day that Hayes grows up knowing just how deeply he was loved by both his parents.
