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Drops of Hope

When we found out we were expecting a baby we started shouting from rooftops; telling family, friends, co-workers, bank tellers, and everyone we saw. There was a joy that filled our hearts. We were blissful with the expectation of a new life.

After confirmation from the doctor, we anxiously waited to hear our baby’s heartbeat. In a routine ultrasound, instead of hearing a little drum beat, there was nothing. We never knew silence could be so loud. We would not be expecting a baby to come home with us after all. Leaving the doctor’s office we felt empty, an echo of silence in the womb.

Rather than a joyous hospital visit, with the promise of new life, we rushed to the hospital fighting for Rebekah’s life with complications from the miscarriage.

A family outside in a field. The husband is holding the baby and the wife is looking at the baby. There is a rainbow in the background.

We noticed, as we grieved, friends and family started reaching out saying, “me too.” We found that so many have experienced the devastating pain of miscarriage, stillbirth, death of an infant, or are struggling to have children. We heard so many stories of loss and hope deferred.

Through our cloud of grief, we saw the drops of hope in the form of a garden set to memorialize the babies who are always with us and yet not close enough to hold. The Lancaster Garden of Hope is a place for families to find refuge from grief, providing name plaques for those babies. When a friend gave us the gift of a place to put our baby’s name, we knew we wanted to give the same gift to others. The Drops of Hope fund is our way of doing just that, with the hope of expanding to families who are struggling to have children. 

In honor of Rain Noel Abreu. The legacy of our unborn child.

Oak Daveed, the Abreu’s rainbow baby, will help carry on the legacy of his sister as a successor to the fund. 


Our Little Drop Of Hope

Her eyes, the stars, they twinkle above,

Her heart, the Earth, it beats below.

Her tears of joy rain down on us,

When it rains, we dance in the water show.


A father holding balloons to remember,

A mother gripping his arm beside.

Together, questions left unanswered,

Emotions raging crashing like ocean tide.


Hinged on the word of a hopeful speaker,

A melody she strikes the stark air.

Pushing into future healing,

Past what you thought you could not bare.


She braved the dark night of the soul,

The place where most run from.

And dared to bring a pearl of hope,

That would heal more than some.


A plaque of death and wings of doves,

Silence ushered in the role call.

Babies names said one after the other,

Mother, Father hear, and hearts fall.


Courage mustered up within to hold on,

Letting go and watching balloons soar.

Holding on to the strings of hope,

Letting go of wanting more.


She’s a gift of life just like each one is,

She is perfectly fit in time and space.

I’ll let her memory be what it is,

Until I see her face to face.


Her eyes, the stars, they twinkle above,

Her heart, the Earth it beats below.

Her tears of joy rain down on us,

When it rains, we dance in the water show.