This is a love story that is equally lovely and painful. When they first met, fell in love, and had a kid, Liz passed away in childbirth. Matt’s actions following her passing were really inspiring.
High school students Liz Goodman and Matt Logelin first crossed paths at a gas station one sunny afternoon. Both of them were raised in Minnetonka, Minnesota, but their chance encounter marked the beginning of a real love story.
Senior year of high school was when Liz and Matt met. Fireworks sparked when she walked up to Matt after he caught her eye; the two became inseparable… up till the start of college.
As graduation drew near, the high school sweethearts had to face the fact that they were attending colleges in different parts of the country! In contrast to Matt, who remained at the University of Minnesota, Liz was traveling to California.
For this couple, who persisted and stuck together throughout their studies, the distance was nothing. Matt continued on to get his master’s degree at Loyola University of Chicago. He was contemplating getting a Ph.D. when he realized he needed to follow his heart and not his mind.
Matt was aware that he could no longer stand to be so far from his love. In order to be with Liz, he moved halfway across the nation to Los Angeles in 2005, packing his stuff.
From then on, the two proceeded to enjoy their lives to the utmost. While traveling, Liz and Matt explored new places, made memories, and deepened their understanding of one another and the world they lived in. It was just a matter of time until Matt realized that this was it and got down on one knee in Nepal to ask Liz to marry him.
In front of their friends and family, they exchanged vows to love one another forever on August 13, 2005. Seeing these lovers grab life and their love by the horns was exhilarating. For the young couple, everything seems to be going great.
They were not just happier than ever in their romantic relationships, but also in their professional lives. Liz worked as a financial professional at Disney, while Matt was a project manager at Yahoo! in California. The two decided to buy a house jointly to take advantage of their newly discovered financial security. From then, everything just got better.
After two years of marriage in 2007, the couple decided to grow their family, and they were thrilled to find out Liz was carrying their first child!
Since many of Liz and Matt’s friends and family members reside in Minnesota, they were unable to accompany them on their amazing journey to parenthood. The soon-to-be parents made the decision to take action and launched a blog to inform their loved ones of Liz’s pregnancy progress.
The journey appeared bright and joyful for the happy couple as they anticipated their first child, but Liz had a tough pregnancy. The doctors advised her to spend a few weeks in bed since she had excruciating morning sickness.
Matt kept a close eye on her since he was anxious about his wife carrying his child. It was distressing to see Liz, who is often active and energetic, confined to her bed. After that, she was taken to the hospital and told to stay in bed for a few more weeks. Matt monitored their newly launched blog about being pregnant throughout the entire incident. He had no clue what he would soon publish on that specific website.
Since Liz’s pregnancy was considered high risk, she was brought to the delivery room twice, each time at least 7 weeks early owing to false alarms. The doctors kept a careful eye on her since they didn’t want to take any chances.
The baby’s arrival into the world was finally ready. Liz was still two months early, necessitating an urgent C-section. The lives of Matt and Liz Logelin were about to undergo a significant change on March 24, 2008.
The couple welcomed Madeline (Maddy) Logelin into their family after the surgery proceeded without a problem. When she was born, she weighed barely 3 pounds, 14 ounces. Since the new parents were thrilled, Liz only had a brief opportunity to see their beautiful baby girl (photographed). The medical workers hastened to get her to the newborn critical care unit since she was born early.
Due to Liz needing to be kept under observation for a further 24 hours after giving birth, she was unable to hold their daughter straight away. Once everything was through, Liz was prepared and eager to meet her baby girl who was now awake and well. She started to ride in a wheelchair to the ward.
Matt couldn’t wait to have both of his girls in his arms, so he was there to assist his wife in their stroll around the room before they entered the ward. They were about to have the mother-child quality time they had all been looking forward to. Disaster then struck.
When his wife slouched in his arms and muttered, “I feel light-headed,” Matt gently and tenderly helped her into the wheelchair. In an effort to calm Matt, the nurses explained that it was common for women to faint after giving birth.
Matt patiently recalled, “All of a sudden, there’s this ‘code blue,’ and people are running by me.” He broke down in tears. She would never be able to hold her kid since she would pass away in this hospital that day.
Only 27 hours, or slightly more than a day after giving birth to their daughter Madeline, doctors learned that a deadly clot had gone to Liz’s lungs and caused a rare, fatal pulmonary embolism. Liz passed away at the young age of 30, only hours after giving birth to a child, from a fatal embolism. Matt was left a widower one day after becoming a parent.
In only one day, Matt went from feeling on top of the world to fearing for his life. He was devastated. The pregnancy blog was meant to be filled with images of the growing family, but instead, his subsequent essay was only about melancholy.
The first several weeks were the worst Matt had ever experienced. Every Tuesday at exactly 3:11 p.m., his thoughts would return to that fateful moment when his life changed irrevocably because he couldn’t bear to take off his wedding ring. At times, he openly questioned how he would manage in his new life without Liz at his side.
There were challenges in getting back home. There were sour reminders of Liz everywhere Matt turned. When guests asked about the baby’s mother, Matt would frank and openly reply, “She passed on the day after the kid was born,”. Even leaving the house was tough.
The only consolation Matt felt in those early days as a widower was the knowledge that his young daughter needed him and the notion that a portion of his cherished wife lived on in Madeline.
Matt was determined that he would give his daughter the finest upbringing possible despite his sadness. He’s seeking for a way to express his feelings of dread and anguish. He started posting on a parenting discussion board hosted by his hometown newspaper, The Minnesota Star Tribune. But it didn’t end there.
Maddy Logelin turned 10 years old on March 24th, 2018. Ten years had passed since her mother Liz’s terrible death at the same anniversary. Her father, family, and friends have done all in their can to encircle her with love and happiness despite her horrific history.
Matt has made his blog’s details more private as Maddy has aged. The instant Madeline shouts “stop,” it is over. “The plug will be pulled,” he would always guarantee. Over the years, Maddy has learned about her mother via stories and pictures, and her interest in her has only increased.
One day she naively questioned, “Daddy, did you grasp my mommy’s hand when she died?” She frequently asks her father questions about the activities he and her late mother used to do
Despite his best efforts to be honest and explain things to his little daughter, Matt remarked, “What I said will never take away what happened that day.” After the talk, Maddy remarked, “Daddy, I love you,” which Matt later said she understood precisely what he needed to hear. I also love you, Maddy,” he said.
My Grandson Didn’t Speak Until He Was 5 Years Old – His First Words Shattered Our World
A thoughtful young boy | Source: Freepik
Danny never spoke a word until his fifth birthday, when he uttered a chilling confession, “Mommy has a secret.” As his grandmother, I’d always known there was more to Danny, but nothing could’ve prepared us for the truth his first words would reveal — or the chaos they’d unleash.
There’s something special about Danny. I’ve known it from the moment I first held him in my arms, long before the doctors had their say.
A newborn baby | Source: Pexels
See, Danny is five and doesn’t speak. The doctors say his development is delayed like it’s a simple thing, but I’m his grandmother, and I can feel it in my bones: Danny is different. Not broken, not wrong, just… different.
I look around the living room, brightly decorated for Danny’s fifth birthday. Despite all this, Danny is sitting in his usual spot by the window, tracing the lines of the carpet with his fingers.
I can’t help but smile. That’s just Danny in his own little world.
A boy examining a carpet | Source: Midjourney
Louise, my daughter, is fussing over the cake. She’s been more distant lately but wears her motherly face well. Her husband, Albert, is on his phone in the corner, probably answering work emails.
Albert loves his family. I know that much, but sometimes love isn’t enough when you’re stretched too thin.
I sip my tea, keeping my eye on Danny. Just as I’m about to look away, he stands up and marches toward me. His small hands clutch the sides of my chair, and for the first time in his five years of life, Danny lifts his eyes to meet mine.
Close up of a boy’s face | Source: Midjourney
“Grandma,” he says softly. My heart stops. “I need to tell you something about Mommy.”
The room goes silent. Every head turns. Louise, pale as a sheet, drops the knife she was using to cut the cake. It clatters to the floor, but no one moves to pick it up.
I smile down at him, even though my hands are trembling. “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need to tell me?”
Danny’s voice is calm, almost too calm for a child his age. “Mommy has a secret.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Louise steps forward, her face tight with fear. “Danny,” she stammers, “why don’t you go play with your toys? We’ll talk later.”
But Danny doesn’t budge. His eyes never leave mine. “She’s not going to be around anymore,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact, like he’s discussing the weather.
The air in the room turns cold, suffocating. I swallow hard, my voice barely a whisper. “What do you mean, Danny?”
A shocked and concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
He looks at me, his face expressionless, and repeats himself. “Mommy’s leaving. She told someone on the phone.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Louise’s hands fly to her mouth, and Albert finally looks up from his phone, confusion twisting his features.
“Danny, that’s enough!” Louise’s voice cracks. She moves towards him, but I hold up a hand, stopping her in her tracks.
A woman holding up her hand | Source: Pexels
“No, let him finish.” My voice is steady, though inside, I’m unraveling.
Danny blinks, unaware of the chaos he’s caused. “I heard her tell the man on the phone,” he says. “She said she didn’t love Daddy anymore and something’s wrong with me. She said she wants to run away from both of us.”
Louise lets out a sob, crumbling where she stands. Albert, still in shock, stares at her as if seeing her for the first time. The room is spinning, the once joyful decorations now mocking us with their false cheer.
Birthday cake and decorations | Source: Pexels
Albert’s face is a mask of disbelief, but the hurt is starting to creep in. “Louise,” he whispers, his voice trembling, “is this true?”
Louise shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, no, it’s not like that, Albert. He doesn’t understand. He… he must’ve misheard.”
She stumbles over her words, reaching out towards him, but Albert takes a step back, his eyes narrowing.
A couple having an emotional conversation | Source: Midjourney
“Misheard?” His voice rises, echoing off the walls. “He just said you told someone on the phone you didn’t love me anymore. That you wanted to run away from us! How do you mishear something like that, Louise?”
“I was upset,” she stammers. “I said things I didn’t mean, Albert. You’ve been so distant, and I felt lost.”
Danny, standing beside me, watches his parents with that same detached calm as if he’s not the one who dropped the bomb that’s now tearing them apart.
A calm boy | Source: Midjourney
I can’t take it anymore. I pull Danny into my arms, holding him close.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” I whisper, though I know nothing about this is okay.
Albert turns to Louise, his voice low and cold. “Who was the man, Louise? Who were you talking to?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Her silence says everything.
A speechless woman | Source: Midjourney
He nods slowly, the realization sinking in. “So it’s true. You’re leaving. You don’t love me anymore.”
Louise collapses into a chair, her body shaking with sobs. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she cries. “I’m lost, Albert. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
The room is thick with tension, every breath heavy. I keep Danny close, shielding him from the worst, but I know he’s absorbing every word. He’s always been more perceptive than anyone realized.
A woman holding her grandson close | Source: Midjourney
Albert’s voice is softer now but no less pained. “And what about Danny?” he asks. “You were going to leave him too? You said there’s something wrong with him?”
Louise shakes her head violently, her hands trembling as she grips the edge of the table. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I love him, Albert. But it’s so hard. He never talks, never looks at me, and sometimes I don’t know how to reach him. I feel like I’m failing him.”
Her confession hangs in the air, raw and exposed. For a moment, there’s only silence.
A woman hanging her head | Source: Midjourney
Albert looks at her, his anger slowly giving way to something sadder, something more broken.
“I’m going to take Danny upstairs,” I say quietly, sensing that this is a conversation they need to have without an audience.
Danny doesn’t protest as I guide him towards the stairs. He walks beside me, calm as ever, his little hand slipping into mine.
A boy walking down a corridor | Source: Midjourney
The days after Danny’s birthday feel like the aftermath of a storm. The air is heavy with the weight of everything said, and nothing feels the same.
Louise tries to explain things to me when Danny’s asleep. She tells me she’s been feeling trapped for years, that she never wanted to be a mother in the first place but did it because it was what Albert wanted.
“I don’t know how to be Danny’s mother,” she confesses one night, her voice small. “I’ve tried, Mom. I really have. But I just… I don’t feel it.”
A woman speaking with her daughter | Source: Midjourney
I don’t know what to say. How do you comfort your daughter when she tells you she’s failing her child? How do you forgive her for wanting to run away? I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Albert, on the other hand, has moved swiftly. He’s filed for divorce, his heart too wounded to even try to mend what’s broken between them. I sit with him one evening after Danny has fallen asleep, the silence between us heavy.
“I don’t know what to do, Brenda,” he says, his voice rough with exhaustion. “I thought I knew her. I thought we were in this together. But now… I don’t even know who she is anymore.”
A sad man | Source: Midjourney
I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Albert. Sometimes people just… drift apart. And sometimes they break.” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “But you still have Danny. And he needs you. More than ever.”
Albert nods, though his eyes are far away. “He’s been talking more,” he says suddenly. “Not much, but sometimes. It’s like… he was waiting for something.”
I pause, letting his words sink in. “Maybe he was.”
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
It’s been months since the divorce was finalized. Danny has started to speak more often, though his words are still few and far between. He prefers to observe and take everything in before sharing what’s on his mind.
I’ve learned not to push him. He’ll talk when he’s ready.
One evening, I tuck him into bed, his small body curling into the blankets.
“Grandma,” he says softly, his voice still carrying that calm that unnerves me sometimes. “Do you know why I didn’t talk for so long?”
A young boy | Source: Midjourney
I blink, taken aback by the question. “Why, baby?”
He looks down, picking at the corner of his blanket. “I was waiting for the right time.”
My heart clenches. “The right time for what?”
“To tell the truth,” he says simply.
A young boy in bed | Source: Midjourney
I sit there, staring at him, my mind spinning. He’s only five, yet sometimes I feel like he sees more than all of us combined.
I lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Danny.”
He doesn’t say anything else but turns over in bed, ready to sleep. I sit there for a long time after, watching him. His quietness is not a burden, I realize now. It’s his strength. His way of understanding the world. And, in a way, it’s brought us all closer to the truth.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
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