Our journey started in a way that neither of us could have predicted. One day, my cousin invited me to accompany him on a drive to pick up his girlfriend, Laci, two hours away. I had nothing else to do, so I agreed. When we arrived, Laci’s mom and I chatted while they packed. That’s when I first noticed a girl quietly standing in a doorway, just observing. She was so petite that, at first, I assumed she was Laci’s younger sister. Then I noticed the tattoo on her arm, and I realized I was wrong. On the way back to Houma, I joked with Laci about it, and she corrected me, saying, “No, she’s not my little sister. We’re actually fraternal twins.” That girl was Maci.

From the moment I saw her, I felt something click. I kept trying to get her to talk to me and after a few weeks of trying she finally did. A few months later, at Acadian Village during Christmas, I asked her to be my girlfriend—then, years later, I asked her to marry me in that very same place.

Fast forward to March 21, 2024. That day started like any other Tuesday, but it became one I’ll never forget. After coming home from work, Maci told me to close my eyes. She placed something in my hand—a pregnancy test. My whole world changed in an instant.

Months later, on September 24, everything took another unexpected turn. Maci was at her routine checkup, texting me updates like she always did, when she mentioned something unusual: “I think I peed on myself.” I brushed it off at first, but when it happened again at work, something didn’t feel right. I told her to call her doctor just to be sure. Later, she called me in tears. She wasn’t leaking urine—it was amniotic fluid. They immediately put her on bed rest and transferred us to Women’s Hospital in Baton Rouge.

Our wedding was supposed to be on September 29. We had everything planned—the dress, the venue, the marriage license—so naturally, Maci was heartbroken when we had to cancel. But thanks to the quick thinking of my sister-in-law and the support of our pastor, we were able to get married in the hospital chapel on September 26. It wasn’t what we originally envisioned, but it was intimate, beautiful, and perfect in its own way.

Two days later, Maci’s condition worsened. She became two centimeters dilated, and the hospital staff moved us into labor and delivery. Things escalated quickly from there. Just before 5 p.m., as I was helping Maci in the bathroom, she told me something felt wrong. I checked, and to my horror, the umbilical cord was prolapsed. I tried to stay calm for her sake, but inside, I was terrified.

I called for the nurse, and within minutes, a team of nurses and doctors rushed in. The next eleven minutes felt like an eternity. I sat there, helpless, praying for Maci and Jackson. Then, at 5:10, the news we desperately needed arrived: both Maci and Jackson were safe.

As I write this in mid-October, Maci is recovering wonderfully, and Jackson is receiving the best care in the NICU. We live an hour and a half away from the hospital, which is nerve-wracking, but knowing he’s in the hands of such an incredible team gives us peace of mind. We are endlessly grateful to the staff at Women’s Hospital for their kindness, professionalism, and support throughout this journey. From the doctors to the nurses and just the whole hospital staff, everyone has treated us with compassion and care. This may not have been the birth story we planned, but we couldn’t have asked for better people to guide us through it.

Thank you to everyone at Women’s Hospital for taking such good care of our family. This is our story.

— Adam and Maci