My Story

In January 2024, I started nursing school, excited for the future of becoming a Certified Nurse Midwife and Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner. I found out I was pregnant in February and quickly decided to start sharing my story because of how it connected to the career I had chosen. I was sharing pictures and videos, being very vocal about my pregnancy and having so much fun doing so.

Things changed on June 1, 2024. The week prior, I had attended an appointment with my midwives and they said they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but thought my placenta might be in the way or that baby was down really low. I wasn’t too concerned — however, a week later I started bleeding, and on June 1st I went into the emergency OB department at the University of Utah, where I was told the most devastating news I could have ever imagined: “Your baby has no heartbeat.”

I was in denial as a second healthcare provider came into the room, using the sonogram to again confirm there was no heartbeat. I have never cried so loudly or in such an agonizing way. The sounds coming from me were not of this world. And this news would change my life forever. I was a day shy of 19 weeks. There’s no way. There’s no way. I kept thinking to myself.

Maternal Fetal Medicine recommended I receive a D&C because my baby was measuring much smaller than my gestational age. They told me he had passed away somewhere between my 14-week ultrasound and my 18-week appointment where we couldn’t find the heartbeat. I received a D&C and was able to keep the remains of my baby’s body to have cremated.

I received hundreds of text messages from previous clients, friends, family members, neighbors, church members — literally everyone that knew me — and I received so much support. My house looked like a floral shop. I had food being delivered to me for weeks. And I still remember to this day: the only thing that made me feel the tiniest bit better was when someone came into my space and allowed me to be exactly what I needed to be — devastated, sad, frustrated. When someone came and cried WITH me, I felt seen.

Because I left the hospital that day without a baby to cuddle, my mom bought me a teddy bear. I named him my Taylor Teddy. This had been recommended to me by my Doula, who said that many women get a stuffed animal after a miscarriage to hold, since there’s no baby to hold. I held that teddy bear every day. I sleep with that teddy bear every night. And I refuse to let go of my baby Taylor Shane — because he’s mine.

My Mission

My mission is to fill the gap in miscarriage care. You leave your provider’s office, and you should not be left alone. Women are given the advice to not tell anyone about their pregnancy until they are 12 weeks along — and to that I say: bullshit. You should be given all the options available to grieve that child. I hope to help educate mothers, fathers, siblings, loved ones, friends, family — whoever you are that knows a family going through this agony. I want to educate you and teach you how to support her, because she is the one who knows how to grieve best, and all you need to do is follow her lead.

The Taylor Teddy was designed to be a therapeutic resource for the grieving mother, especially when miscarrying at home. These stuffed animals can be heated and are weighted to provide comforting relief during cramping, and a calming effect due to anxiety. Our miscarriage collection kit is meant to give families the opportunity to collect their baby with dignity and awareness — in a way where they can choose to either test for genetics, or to honor their baby through burial, cremation, or whatever they please. No one should feel that the only option is to birth their baby into a toilet, only to be flushed away. Such a sensitive matter deserves to be considered, supported, and protected, as that mother is going through the hardest part of bearing children.

Let’s change the conversation. Mourn with those who mourn. Support and love others through their grief.