In April of 1977 I went through one of the hardest trials I have ever had to endure in this life.

My husband and I married in 1965. After it seemed we could not have children, we became foster parents. We tried to adopt our first foster child, but were told it was against the rules and regulations. When we surprisingly discovered we were expecting our first child, we finally persuaded the agency to allow us to adopt our daughter Tonya. Her adoption was finalized the same month our first son was born. She was almost three by then. Two years later our second son, Brent, was born.

I was happy and delighted to learn two years later, we were expecting again. I had been two weeks over due with the first two boys, so I was not surprised when I was late again. I was going to help a neighbor's daughter, who was our baby-sitter, as she called with a problem and could not find her mother. Ironically, I passed her Mom on the main road only blocks from our home. She told me, "Haven't you had that baby yet?" which you hear a lot when you are overdue. She told me she would get her daughter and I should go home. I turned around and went to get some ice-cream for the other two boys who were with me. We were so close to home that I allowed them to sit up front with me, which I never did. Somehow just before we got to our driveway, the ice-cream I had on the seat for my husband slipped, and when I turned my head, I must have turned the steering wheel. The next thing I knew we had hit a telephone pole.

The boys were both injured and I was bleeding badly from my mouth. Only two driveways from our home. My husband was the first to arrive at the accident. When I got to the emergency room, I begged them to deliver the baby cesarean. They were more interested in stitching up my mouth. Travis Wade Thompson was born by regular delivery later, after I had been told by the nurse in the ER that she'd heard a heart beat. Then enduring the frustration of an obstetrician who simply told me, when I finally reached labor and delivery, that I should not have any hope that the baby was alive.

He was right. Travis looked perfect. A beautiful ten pound baby boy with a head full of curly blondish hair, and the only problem was he was not breathing. Things have come a long way since the 60's and my experience. They never let me hold him and discouraged me from dressing him when we got him to the funeral home. I have always wished for a photo of him.

Our Bishop was in Washington, DC and he rushed home to be with us. He looked as distraught as I was when he entered my hospital room. My first question to him was, "Do I name this child?"

He said "Yes, by all means, you name this child."

The doctor had thoughtlessly said, "Don't put yourself through any more than you have to, let us dispose of the baby for you." I asked my husband, who was at my side, to please call the funeral home immediately and have them take our Travis out of the hospital. I had injuries myself and was grateful that the boys' injuries were not severe. They went home. One with a broken leg at age two, and one only four, with his eyebrow embedded where his forehead hit the dash.

It has been 23 years, this past April, and I relate this to admonish others. Don't be complacent. Don't let your children ride in the front seat, use the child seats and restraints they say to use. I am still dealing with some feelings of "What if," even this many years later. If I could have fit the seat belt around me, if I had just not driven so late in the pregnancy, and on and on. We had another son born September, a year after our loss, and the Lord blessed us with another healthy child.

There is no question that Travis is guaranteed the Celestial Kingdom. If we want to be worthy of this, we must endure and follow the Lord's instructions to us.

I went for many years up and down on a roller coaster as I was told conflicting stories of stillborn children and if there was a spirit for this child. Of course there was. When Mary told Elizabeth her news that she was carrying Christ, did not John, who was still in his mother's womb, leap for joy? They both already had their identity before they were delivered. So did my son. I can know him again, I know this with certainty. He would be 23 now, and even with our daughter now 31, and our three sons ages 28, 25, and 22 I still miss him.

I am so happy for others that hospital staff are seemingly so much more compassionate and work with the families who endure the tragedy of the loss of a child. I left the hospital against doctors' advice, and we had a small grave side service for our son. My brother conducted the service for us. He did a beautiful job and one of the scriptures he read from, Luke Chapter 1 verses 39-45, gives me great comfort. I hope it will for those of you who are experiencing the tragic loss of a child before having a chance to know them in this world.

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