I’ve had a hard time writing this because it opens the doors to a journey we never expected. A journey we didn’t choose—but one that was lovingly chosen for us. One that still feels a little shocking, even now, and I’m sure will be to you, too. But this is a story that will become the greatest love story our family has ever told.
Our sweet baby Louie came into the world with a special purpose. He has a condition. When God was forming him, He chose to make Louie different from most. From the very beginning, Louie was divinely selected to have Achondroplasia—the most common form of dwarfism. He is a little person, and learning this at 35 weeks was overwhelming, heartbreaking, and yes, shocking. But we are so thankful we had a little time to process the news before his birth, time to turn tears into joy, and fear into love. The formal confirmation through genetic testing came only three weeks ago, making the journey feel real in a new way.
We are now on a path we never dreamed of, but it feels divinely orchestrated. There’s so much we don’t understand yet, but our love for Louie is immense, and we are committed to raising him exactly as God created him. Our God doesn’t make mistakes. I am confident that Louie will change our family—and the world—in ways we can’t yet imagine. His two big brothers and two big sisters were specifically chosen to love, protect, and support him. Already, we can feel the profound impact he is having on their hearts and character. He was made for a purpose, and we can already see glimpses of it.
But the story didn’t start here. It began long before, with a simple hope for one more child. We had four kids very close in age, and when our fourth was about to turn three, we wondered if our family might be complete—or if we might try for one more. We decided to try for just two months, thinking that would be the deciding factor. With four perfectly healthy kids, I’ll admit now that I carried a quiet fear about what might happen if we tried. I cringed at even admitting it, but those were my thoughts at the time.
At the end of that second month, I had taken a couple of early pregnancy tests that were negative. Standing in my bathroom, tossing the last test in the trash, I whispered to God, “If You want us to have a fifth baby, You’ll just have to do it Yourself.” I was at peace with stopping, but open to whatever God had planned. A few days later, my sister encouraged me to take one more test. I resisted at first, but I finally did. There it was—a faint line. I rushed to the store for a second test, and this time the line was clear. Our fifth child was coming, and even now, I believe that Louie was perfectly planned and purposefully chosen for our family.
My pregnancy with Louie was much like my others. Our older four were ecstatic, and we were thrilled to discover that our fifth would be a boy, our “tie breaker,” balancing our two boys and two girls. At the 20-week ultrasound, I felt a flutter of worry—everyone knows this is the big scan. The technician reported that everything looked great, though she added a cautious note that nothing is ever guaranteed. I left reassured, believing all was well.
The months flew by, and we lovingly called him Cinco or Number 5 as we awaited his arrival. Around 34 weeks, I measured a little large, so we went in for an ultrasound to check on him. My husband accompanied me, and our beloved ultrasound tech joked, “I think this might be your biggest baby yet!” In hindsight, it was ironic.
The measurements initially seemed fine, but when my doctor came in, he said something unexpected: Louie’s legs were measuring very small—1st percentile—while his head and torso were above the 97th percentile. We were shocked. Could it be an error? I called my husband, barely able to speak through my anxiety. Over the next few days, I tried to reassure myself that it was probably nothing, even hosting a small baby shower that weekend, insisting to everyone—and maybe myself—that all would be fine.
A week later, at the specialist, the truth became undeniable. The technician’s detailed measurements, from his head to his pinkie finger, began to confirm our fears. The doctor gently explained, “I believe your son might have Achondroplasia, the same condition seen in little people on TV.” There was no history of it in our families, as most cases are not inherited. He emphasized that kids with this condition lead full, healthy lives. And yet, we sat in disbelief, struggling to process the news.
Leaving the clinic, we were swept into a whirlwind of appointments—genetics, neonatology, orthopedics, pulmonology, neurology, ENT. My heart broke, yet a deep sense of peace filled me: Louie was chosen. This was part of God’s plan, even if it was difficult to understand.
Louie arrived on March 9, 2018, via c-section. Holding him for the first time, we were awestruck. He was perfect. At first, his differences weren’t obvious, but then we noticed his tiny, starfish-like hands—a beautiful reminder that Louie was unique. By six weeks, we had the formal diagnosis of Achondroplasia, and we began countless appointments and procedures—blood draws, MRIs, sleep studies, x-rays, surgeries—all to ensure he stayed healthy.
Through it all, Louie has been nothing short of a warrior. His determination, joy, and laughter radiate every day. Babies with dwarfism often face delayed motor milestones, yet our little guy, spurred on by his four big siblings, has surpassed expectations. Last month, at 18 months, he achieved the milestone of walking, and the joy in our home was overwhelming.
Now, 20 months later, Louie’s tiny hands are a daily reminder of God’s perfect design. They wrap around ours, blow kisses, give the sweetest high-fives, and remind us every day that this journey—though unexpected—is nothing short of miraculous.
If I could go back to that moment staring at the ultrasound, I would whisper to my anxious, uncertain self: “It will be okay. In fact, it will be better than okay. Louie will be precious, life-giving, and heart-melting. He was intricately designed to bring glory into your family. Yes, the journey is different, but it changes nothing about the love that surrounds him. This was always meant to be.”
