Solomon & Charlie

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Solomon & Charlie

Written by Tiffany Morrow, Solomon & Charlie’s mom

The question “How many children do you have?” used to be a simple one for me to answer. During the years of walking through infertility, it was a question that stung; for the years I had my first and second sons, it was one I could quickly answer with joy and pride. Now, it’s a bit more complicated. I must discern—depending on who is asking and what kind of mood I’m in—how I answer. Do I simply smile and say “Three, two boys and a girl”, because that is the number of children we are raising in our home? Or do I give the real answer, “Five”, and leave it at that? Or do I give more detail, “Five…three here and two in Heaven”. There is no right or wrong way to answer the question, but one thing I know remains true: I am blessed with five beautiful children. Two of them, Solomon and Charlie, we are not able to hold on this side of eternity. This is their story.

In 2019, our family moved across the country from LA to Gastonia. After a very hard and lonely transition, we soon found out I was pregnant with our third child. It was a complete shock, as I don’t get pregnant easily. My first trimester went by very smoothly. We saw the beautiful fluttering of the heartbeat at our first ultrasound and everything looked great at every appointment in the months that followed. We counted down the days until we’d find out if we were having a boy or girl. But on April 14th, 2020, the morning of my anatomy ultrasound, I started cramping and spotting. I desperately tried to convince myself that it could be nothing, but I knew in my gut that something was not right.

We saw the beautiful fluttering of the heartbeat at our first ultrasound and everything looked great at every appointment in the months that followed.

Since we were in the throes of the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, my husband was not allowed to join me at my ultrasound appointment. So he prayed for me and I headed to my appointment alone while he stayed home with our boys, who were 2 and 5 years old at the time. I was terrified, but desperately held on to the hope that I’d soon be reassured that all was well as soon as soon as that wet, goey wand was placed on my belly.

But the moment I saw my baby on the screen, my heart sank. There was no movement, no fluttering, and although I was just two days shy of 19 weeks, the baby was much too small, measuring at only 15 weeks. Already knowing the answer, but wanting to be sure (and desperately hoping I was mistaken), I asked the technician if there was a heartbeat.

She wasn’t allowed to say much, but as she placed the wand over the front of his little body, there was nothing but stillness and deafening silence.

I was in utter shock and disbelief. This sort of thing only happens to other people, not to me! I sobbed and cried out to the Lord for help. Never had I felt such deep and aching grief, yet amazingly at the same time never had I felt the presence of the Lord so closely. I knew I wasn’t really alone in that room, and even in my overwhelming shock and sadness I was given a peace that could only come from Him.

Already knowing the answer, but wanting to be sure (and desperately hoping I was mistaken), I asked the technician if there was a heartbeat. As she placed the wand over the front of his little body, there was nothing but stillness and deafening silence.

Later that day my husband and I checked into the hospital for me to be induced. After a quick and very intense three hours of labor, our precious son was born, weighing 2.5 oz and measured 6 inches long. We named him Solomon Douglas—Solomon meaning “Peace” and Douglas after my uncle who passed away at a young age the day my mom found out she was pregnant with me. He was so small, but so incredibly beautiful. Tests showed that Solomon was perfectly healthy, but his umbilical cord wasn’t attached to the placenta correctly, a complication called “velamentous cord insertion.” It’s likely that because of this, he likely wasn’t getting the nutrients he needed, but we’ll never know for sure.

I’ll never forget when we were saying our goodbyes to our little boy. My husband said to him, “Next time we see you, you’ll look so different!” It brings us comfort knowing that because of Christ, we will see our son again in Heaven, and that he now has a perfect body that will never know the pain of this world.

Never before had I understood Psalm 34:18 as much as I did that day, that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in Spirit.” A day I had looked forward to with much anticipation had become the worst day of my life. Yet, I knew that the Lord was near.

A few days later we were able to have a beautiful graveside service for Solomon. He was buried in “the Garden of Peace”, where I will be able to go for years to come and reflect on God’s faithfulness to carry me through this time of grief. But for weeks afterwards, it was all I could do to lay in bed, cry, and listen to music to soothe my soul. I clung to Christ because I felt like if I started to let go I would completely drown. I also devoured books that spoke to my pain and reminded me of who God is. Those were the hardest but most beautiful days of being in complete desperation. In that season of darkness I was reminded that I had a suffering Savior who knew my pain and was walking with me.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in Spirit.” A day I had looked forward to with much anticipation had become the worst day of my life. Yet, I knew that the Lord was near.

Later that same year, I found out I was pregnant again. Another huge shock! As muchs as I trusted that God was in control and had a wonderful plan for our family, those early days were full of anxiety. But week after week started to pass and everything seemed to be ok. I anxiously waited for my first appointment so I could see the heartbeat and be able to take in a deep breath. But that deep breath never came.

On December 21st, when I saw our fourth baby on the ultrasound screen, the first thing I noticed was how cute the baby’s profile already was! But immediately after, my heart sank once again as I saw no heartbeat, only stillness. I was in complete disbelief and didn’t understand why this was happening again. I called my husband weeping, again. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

The baby had passed away at around 8 weeks. Two days after that appointment, on December 23, 2020, Charlie Kai Morrow was born at home. Amazingly, I got to see and hold Charlie in my hand, and he or she is buried next to big brother, Solomon.

Navigating the grief journey following baby loss has not been easy. Even years later, the grief comes in waves. I can easily question: What is wrong with me? Why did I have to lose another baby? Didn’t I learn enough the first time around? Was it because of something I did or didn’t do?

I’ll probably never know the answers to all of my “why” questions. But I praise the Lord that I know the “Who”. It is God who catches my tears in his cup, God who carries me through my grief, and God who reminds me that Solomon and Charlie’s lives, though short, still hold great value and purpose.

In 2023, we welcomed our fifth child, a healthy and precious baby girl, into our family. I praise God for and treasure every hug, every smile, and every minute we have with each of our three children here with us. At the same time, I will continually thank the Lord for the gift of Solomon and Charlie. Though I desperately wish they were still here with us, they are so incredibly loved. There’s nothing that will change the fact that they will always be a special part of our family, and I will always be their mom.

Though I desperately wish they were still here with us, they are so incredibly loved. There’s nothing that will change the fact that they will always be a special part of our family, and I will always be their mom.

Donate to our “Still their mom” campaign to support our ministry efforts for moms like Tiffany

Real life ways we support loss moms as an organization – and the associated cost:

  • Our organization is sending 20 of the 100 moms to the Bereaved Mother’s Day Tea this Sunday. (cost: $50 to send 1 mom)
  • We have sent 60 free care packs to new loss moms in the last year. (cost: $2,400, approx. $40/ea)
  • We sent 300+ cards to bereaved moms and infertility warriors this year. (cost: $450)
  • This past year, we gave out $25,000 to cover loss-associated medical bills for 18 moms and their families. In the fall, we plan to give $25,000 more.
  • We design spaces and connection events for moms to share and meet other moms. (cost: ~$25,000)