Grieving Pregnancy Loss and Finding Unexpected Joy
Six months before we met him, I discovered I was pregnant—unexpectedly, and despite having an IUD in place. The news shocked me at first, but soon we were filled with joy at the thought of welcoming a new life. Our small family of four was about to become five, and we allowed ourselves to dream of all the possibilities.
But shortly after that initial excitement, I received devastating news: I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. The doctor administered a chemotherapy shot to save my life, an excruciating ordeal that took a toll both physically and emotionally. The miscarriage that followed was long and painful. My hair fell out. I spent days on the couch, crying uncontrollably, unable to understand why our hearts had been stretched to love a child we could never hold.
During that time, I also took a leave of absence from my career as a United States immigration attorney. I had just finished a particularly horrific asylum trial, witnessing the suffering of human beings and the indifference of the world, and I couldn’t bring myself to face it all again. My grief was overwhelming; I felt the weight of the world pressing down on me. It was hard to smile, to even imagine hope.
In search of healing, I fled to the Dominican Republic, immersing myself in the sun and sand, teaching English and waiting tables. I was licking my wounds, questioning my purpose, while my husband encouraged me to trust that I would find my way back to my career in time. I wasn’t sure he was right, but his faith in me became a quiet lifeline.
Meeting My Future Son
One afternoon, while my family and I were having lunch on the beach, we noticed a young boy tossing oversized flip flops into the ocean and chasing after them. When he returned to shore, we invited him to join us for pizza. He sat politely, waiting for us to serve him, not responding to our Spanish or French attempts to communicate. I noticed the brilliance of his smile—teeth whiter than the clouds above—and felt an inexplicable warmth in my heart, as if I already knew him.
Over the next several months, he became a constant presence in our lives, helping our children, shining shoes, and joining us for picnics. Our communication was a blend of Spanish, French, and charades, as his native language was Haitian Kreyol. He had never been to school, so we taught him math and arranged for him to meet with our children’s French tutor.
When his mother appeared at my door with a small garbage bag containing clothes and a toothbrush, asking me to guide him and help him grow into a man with a future, I initially said no. I had countless reasons to refuse—but my heart had already said yes.
Expanding Our Family
As an immigration attorney, I knew bringing him to the United States for school would be complicated. Yet with the assistance of a congressman and a senator, we secured his visa. In the middle of winter, he arrived in Colorado, transitioning from Caribbean beaches to the snowy High Rockies. He couldn’t read, write, or speak English, but his determination was unwavering. He worked tirelessly, never complained, and embraced every challenge with courage.
Today, that young man is pursuing studies in business and engineering while attending a soccer academy with aspirations to go pro. His life in the United States has transformed not only his own future but also the lives of his family back in Haiti and the Dominican Republic, who cheer him on from afar.
Finding Purpose
Sometimes, I still grieve the child I never got to hold. Yet I dry my tears and look around at my life in wonder. The woman who once fled to the Dominican Republic, heartbroken and searching for purpose, now lives a life shaped from those broken pieces—more beautiful and fulfilling than I could have imagined.
God placed a child in my path to nurture, guide, and love. Our family became five, just not in the way I had expected. He also gave me a reason to reconnect with my career. That impossible case I once thought I couldn’t win, along with the people who guided me, proved my husband right. I returned to practicing immigration law with renewed purpose.
We now live near Geneva, France, expanding our U.S.-based law office into Europe while focusing on human rights, global mobility, and immigration law—my childhood dream realized. Our firm works with clients worldwide, helping them move to the United States or Europe. We even recently prepared our first human rights complaint with the United Nations. While the world may sometimes close its eyes, we strive to keep ours wide open, helping wherever we can.
So, if you’re reading this and feeling like life has kicked you down, I hope my story brings you hope. Even when your world feels shattered, God may be piecing it back together in ways more beautiful than you can imagine. May you find the strength to endure, trusting that your broken pieces are being molded into something bigger, brighter, and more meaningful than you ever dreamed possible.
