Tucson Family Photographer | Garcia Family_Miracles Do Exist | Tucson, Sierra Vista, Arizona

 We recently met and photographed a very brave little boy and his sweet family - only his mama can tell his story:

"When we learned we were pregnant with our second child, we were ecstatic. Within a few weeks, however, that excitement began to fade as severe morning sickness set in and visits to the hospital began. Before the first trimester was over, we had already had a miscarriage scare and multiple ER trips for rehydration since I could barely eat or drink and what I managed to get in rarely stayed down. At a 7 week ultrasound, we learned there was a blood clot between the baby’s forming placenta and the uterine wall. We were assured of good news: in most cases, these clots fix themselves and cause no problems to the pregnancy or baby. Bad news: we were not most cases. Bleeding began at 11 weeks and continued with more and more frequency, joined by contractions at 15 weeks. I would take Tylenol and curl up in the shower until the water ran cold praying desperately that our little baby would survive, or at least that the misery would end.

                At our 19 week ultrasound, we were anxious to learn how everything was looking. I had begun feeling better in the past week with the nausea subsiding and the bleeding slowing down.  Our initial excitement was return as we guessed if we would have a boy or girl, who it would look like, what it would like. Again, the excitement was short-lived; there was what appeared to be a cyst in the baby’s belly and the blood clot was still there, causing the placenta to tear away. A visit to a specialist confirmed two things: one, I would not be allowed to be pregnant longer than 34 weeks (if I made it that far), and two, we were having a little boy. 

                Then, as if we had not had enough, my water broke at 22 weeks. I was sent to University Medical Center in Tucson where I spent 19 days in labor, on and off, getting medicine to slow the contractions, medicine for pain, medicine to prevent infection…I spent weeks listening to my son’s heartbeat and seeing him on ultrasound, monitoring how he was responding to all the stress and if he was continuing to develop correctly. Many doctors came by to have somber, serious conversations about “the outcomes”. He could have physical delays, mental delays, he could have cerebral palsy, feeding problems, breathing problems, he could be born alive and die shortly after, he could be stillborn – the list went on and on. Every day I remained pregnant was an improvement on these “outcomes”. Each day was a small victory for him. 

                But, as hard as the doctors tried, finally, he couldn’t be stopped. Our son was born at 25 weeks and 4 days, weighing 1 pound 10 ounces and 13 inches long. He cried once before his face was covered with an oxygen mask. Doctors and nurses surrounded my newborn, blocking him from my view. They moved quickly, in a sort of dance practiced too many times, on too many preemies. We were allowed a brief look at him, snuggled up in his incubator, with a nurse breathing for him. He was tiny, almost see through. He looked like what he was: a fetus who should not have been facing this world yet. He was the most precious thing I had ever seen. 

                Our little fighter lived in the NICU at Diamond Children’s Hopsital for 121 days. One of his lungs collapsed. He needed a tube down his throat and a machine to breath for him for months. He was not able to eat on his own for three months. There was a liver failure scare, problems with his heart, his intestines, a bleed in his brain. He had an infection in his blood stream, problems gaining weight, and many other minor (in comparison) setbacks. But through it all, he fought. He won over the hearts of nurses and doctors. Family, friends, and strangers prayed for him and God worked through the amazing staff in the NICU to make him strong. There were many dark times where we questioned why this had happened. Why should our son have to suffer and struggle when others did not? Why did he have to fight for every breath and heart beat? What kind of a God would allow this pain for him and our family? It was difficult to reconcile. It made us stronger as a family, more grateful for small things that are sometimes overlooked. We learned to lean on those around us and trust God to carry us through. In the end, we have a healthy toddler who laughs at life and proves to all that miracles exist. 

                One verse stood out during that troubling time the hospital: John 1:5 A light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. 

Our son is a light that shone strong and bright through the darkness of uncertain future, fear, loneliness, and sickness. 

His name is Luke. "  A. Garcia