On January 29, 1997, I received my greatest gift. Taylor Renee McCulloch was the name we chose to give her. She was lovingly named after her aunt, my sister, Therese Renee. I can still remember the first moment that I held her in my arms. It was precious because it was just her and me. I had endured an exceptionally long labor surrounded by her daddy and our family. It was decided, after 19 hours of labor, to take her by c-section. By the time that I was coherent enough to know what was happening, everyone had gone home to get some rest. So, there I laid, in my hospital bed looking down at the sweetest face I had ever seen. I could not have fathomed in that moment that I would outlive her. I did not know that she would only have 8,818 days on this earth. January 29, 1997, was her entrance into this world and March 22, 2021, the day that changed me forever, was her entrance into Glory.
When I was asked to write this story and to speak of how I have survived the most traumatic loss that can happen to a Mama, I was quick to say yes. It is an easy answer really, the answer is one word, one name, the sweetest name ever to pass my lips, His name is Jesus. It is HIM and only HIM that I can sit here today and share not just my story, but hers. Yet now that I am staring at a screen, I realize that this may be a tougher story to share. I will share it though, I will share all the light and, unfortunately, the darkness too.
When Taylor was born, her daddy, Jeff, and I were married. There is no doubt in my mind that we loved each other the day we married, the day we had her, and oddly enough, the day we were no longer married. By the time Taylor turned three, we were separated and heading towards divorce. I will take the blame for that season of life. I was young and it seemed easier to step away than it was to work on what was wrong and what was missing within me. I am sharing this part of my story because I understand now with the benefit of hindsight that when you bring a child into the world, every decision you make is no longer just for yourself, but for this life that God has entrusted you with. I realize that because I was choosing to live my life for myself, not for her, not for her dad and certainly not for God, my sins would have consequences on my life and on hers.
Jeff and I did a decent job at co-parenting. It was bumpy in the beginning, but as time went on and forgiveness became part of our story, we found ourselves caring about each other and what was happening in each other’s lives. We found it natural to celebrate for one another when life brought us joy and leaning into one another when life knocked us down. When Taylor was five, I married who is still the love of my life, Jim. Through him, Taylor and I gained a beautiful new family. She was now the little sister to Carolyn and Nancy and the aunt to Nancy’s son, Stephen. Our family has grown since then as well, by the time Taylor went Home, she had three more nephews by Nancy and a brother-in-law, Carolyn’s husband, Keith. We have lived our lives as a family, choosing to drop the word “step” because it just does not fit. I have had and continue to have a good relationship with Carolyn’s and Nancy’s moms and Jim always had a good relationship with Jeff. Eventually Jeff would also remarry to a beautiful, Godly woman, Michelle. Through her, Taylor again became the little sister to Jessica and Amanda and later, their husbands, as well as becoming Aunt Tay-Tay to their little ones. I was also blessed as Michelle became more than my daughter’s “stepmom,” but she became my co-momma and my friend. We naturally chose to live life together because that is what was best for our children. As I look back now, however, I recognize that the Lord gifted us these beautiful relationships because He knew there would be a day that we would need each other greatly.
I was raised in a home where church was a place we would go each weekend, and I went through all the ritualistic programs expected as I grew up. But my personal salvation did not happen until I was 29 and Taylor was 4. Taylor came to know Jesus as a young girl. I remember asking her when she was about seven if she understood what it meant to ask Jesus to be her Savior. She answered me as if I were crazy as she said, “of course, Mama, I already asked Him.” She was active in our church’s children ministry and on into youth ministry. She was always seeking and asking questions. As a child, she enjoyed singing and performing in church plays and as she grew into youth ministry, she loved to help with the children younger than her. I remember thinking how much better she would have it than me because she was learning young what it would mean to know and follow Jesus. I had prayed fervently that she would not fall into all the pits that I had. I told her many times to not have a testimony that others would pay to hear. I prayed she would ask Jesus to save her and then live a life glorifying Him.
It was in high school when we began to realize that Taylor was struggling. Her grades were falling, her attitude and behavior were changing, and she was beginning to deal with anxiety attacks. Although Jeff and I tried to be unified, having parents divorced is never ideal and I believe this life that I chose for her all those years before was now having a negative effect on her. She continued to deal with anxiety all the way up to the day that changed me forever. Just days before, she called me to let me know that she had found a therapist to speak with. I was so incredibly proud of her because she had done this on her own. We joked often about having to “adult” and this was the biggest “adult” decision that she had made and followed through without any help from what she called, the “adultier adults.”
Her dad and I would both say that there had been positive changes in Taylor over her last couple of years. She was working as a preschool teacher; she was renting a house with a friend and was just weeks away from moving into a condominium on her own that her dad and Grandma were renovating for her. There was lots of excitement brewing around her and I was, for the first time in years, beginning to breathe easier for her future. At 24, she was still living heavily in the “world”, but the conversations that her and I had about Jesus gave me comfort in knowing that He was still in the center of her as she was finding her way in this life. There were, however, still two areas that her and I continued to “butt heads” over. One being that she was in an emotionally unhealthy relationship and second was her “need” to smoke pot. We had many conversations about the second, and she said continually to me, “Mama, its ‘just pot,’ it helps me to sleep.” As for the first issue, I just kept praying that she would eventually find her worth in Jesus alone.
March 21, 2021, was a Sunday. Jim and I were having a rare Sunday with just the two of us instead of the family over for dinner. All the girls had something going on, so Jim and I spent the morning in church and the afternoon running around taking care of some errands. It was a beautiful, sunny early Spring Day and I remember being in an exceptional mood with the windows down and worship music on the radio. I had no idea that when I laid my head down on my pillow that night would be the last time that I slept whole.
March 22, 2021, I awoke as normal. I said goodbye to Jim, went to the basement to work out, drank coffee and read my Bible. Life was still normal. I took my shower and was getting ready for work when I received a text from Taylor’s boyfriend stating that he had not heard from her since Saturday, and he had finally told her that if she did not respond soon, he would reach out to me. My first thought was wondering what he had done to tick her off and that would be the answer to why he had not heard from her. I instantly sent her a text message with a question in need of a response. When I did not hear back quickly, I was not overly concerned as it would be a time at the preschool when the kids would be showing up and therefore, she would not be readily available. Yet, my Mama heart began to beat a little faster. I sent her one final text that started with, “I’m having a mama freak out moment…” I, of course, did not hear from her.
I reached out to my co-momma, Michelle. She said that Jeff had texted her over the weekend too and had also not heard back from her. This was not particularly alarming because she was notoriously known to not always text back as quickly as one would expect. At this point, Michelle and I were both concerned. I called her preschool and learned that, no, Taylor had not shown up and they were also concerned because it was so unlike her and they had also been unable to reach her. At this point, I made my way to Taylor’s and waited with Jeff while Michelle hunted down a key to the house. I remember sitting with Jeff in his car, both of us in a stunned silence. I finally quietly said to him, “I haven’t told Jim anything.” He responded simply, “there isn’t anything to tell.” Michelle showed up with the key and Jeff asked, no he insisted, we stay put while he entered in the house. Taylor’s room was in the basement and as he made his way to her room, Michelle and I stood in the driveway holding one another. Within moments, we heard the most guttural sound I have ever heard coming from a man.
This is the point of the story where I must speak of the darkness. A dad that found his baby curled up in her bed with no breath left in her. A mom that instinctively knew to not go to her bedside but instead stood at the bottom of the steps screaming and beating her fists against a concrete wall. From there was nothing but a whirlwind. 911 being called by Michelle. Me calling Jim, crying out that “she’s dead, Taylor is dead.” Uniform police, ambulance, detectives. Questions come at me faster than I can wrap my head around, much less find answers to. Seeing my sister step out of her car, running into her open arms and asking, “she was saved, right?” “Yes, absolutely she was.” Relief when I see Jim’s truck pull up, knowing he would fix everything, but then realizing this cannot be fixed, this will never be fixed. Watching him go into practical mode and began making all the calls that he knew I would be unable to do. His daughters, her sisters were the two hardest calls he had to make.
In those first hours I know I was nothing more than a shell of myself. My heart still beat, my lungs still breathed air in and out, yet I felt nothing but numbness. Once her body had been removed from the home she had known for just under a year, those that came in support began to leave. I had sent my sister ahead to our stepmom’s house to be with her because as I mentioned above, “step” does not fit our family. Sarah had come into our lives many years before after we lost our sweet Mama to complications from cancer. Our Daddy had joined her just three months before the day that changed me forever. Three months, I had not even had time to fully grieve that huge loss and the truth is, I still have not. This new grief still eclipses the loss of my sweet Daddy. Sarah had always been a part of Taylor’s life. Her “Nan.” Taylor loved her Nan and Nan adored her Taylor. Sarah was one of the calls Jim made, so I knew Renee was needed therefore than with me. Jim and I joined Renee at Sarah’s, and I remember sitting down next to my sister and laying my head on her shoulder. She moved me to look me squarely in the eyes and she said, “you are going to be okay; you that, right?” In that moment, something deep inside whispered “yes” in agreement.
The rest of the day moved in slow motion. Texts, calls, visits. Appreciative of it all, but I truly felt like I was walking through quicksand. I was grateful that it was finally just Jim and myself. My man, my rock, retired from the fire department, manly man, stoic and strong, yet I found him sitting on the floor in our living room with quiet tears streaming down his face. Beating himself up because just weeks before she had shared with him that she had fallen on the ice and hit her head. He was sure that she had died of a brain bleed, and he should have made her get checked out. My mind had gone to her high school issues of having high insulin, although she had yet to be diagnosed with diabetes. I was wondering if she had fallen into a diabetic coma because I was certain that diabetes would be a part of her life. It was less than 24 hours before we had a glimpse of what had taken her Home.
Jim and I were on our way home from our former church. We were no longer attending this church because we had moved to the country when we became empty nesters, but this is where Taylor met Jesus, and it was the only place that made sense to me to hold her celebration of life. As we drove home, I received a call from the coroner. He said words to me that did not make sense, words that I never dreamt I would hear about my Taylor. She had fentanyl in her system. No. Never. Not Taylor because remember, “it’s just pot, Mama.” I am only going to continue in the darkness for one more moment. For Taylor, it was “just pot.” I have since learned much about the fentanyl crisis in this country and how it is being laced into everything from everyday over the counter drugs, street drugs, children’s candy, and pot. It was “just pot” that took my baby Home.
The next few days went by in a blur. I did all the things, I semi-slept, I semi-ate, I showered, I dressed. I stood next to her casket and spoke to all the people, shared all the stories. I cried, I laughed. The whole week was just completely surreal. Yet in those first hours, first days, the darkness faded quickly. As we know, darkness is the absence of light. I can look back now and recognize that in those moments I could have retreated far into the darkness, but I found that the light would not allow it. HIS light began to shine on moment upon moment upon moment. Within days of placing her sweet body into the ground I began to write what I chose to call “God Moments.” He was making it clear to me that He was sovereign over every area of her life, of my life. His Word says that all our days are written in His book before we have lived even one. When He knitted her into my womb, He knew every one of her 8,818 days. It has now been more than 1,260 days since the day that changed me forever and He has been sovereign over every one of them. Although I know I will never be the same, I know that He is molding me into whatever He needs me to be. Just as I know that she was given her days for a plan and a purpose, I will live out the remainder of my days, however many that may be, shining His light for His plan and for His purpose.
You may be wondering why I chose to title her story “Chasing Beauty.” It was her youth pastor that presided over her funeral and those two words were how he described how Taylor chose to face life. He spoke of all the many ways that she chased beauty. She chased beauty in her expression through art, in her love of animals and her love of nature. She chased beauty through her students and her desire for them to see the beauty within them. She chased beauty in her relationships with friends and family as she had a deep desire to care for and to make sure that everyone around her felt beautiful, inside, and out. In fact, I can still see her walking into a room with a gigantic smile on her face and a “Hey, beautiful” on her lips. But what is most glorious about all that she chased after was knowing that in all that time, Beauty was chasing her. Beauty chases each of us and I am so grateful that beauty chased her right into heaven where her faith became sight. It brings me incredible peace to have the certainty in knowing that my Taylor has seen our Savior face to face. The hands that made her are the hands that she now holds. You cannot get more beautiful than that.
I am not sure why I find myself continually amazed at the many ways He has provided for me, but there have been many days that I just shake my head in wonderment. I can easily ask Him, “why me?” Why have I had to endure such a loss? Why am I not allowed to have a Mama or be a Mama? Why did you take her so soon after losing my dad? Why can I not see my baby marry or my baby have a baby? Why, Lord, why? But instead, I find myself asking, why, Lord, do you love me so much? Why do you continue to provide me with all my needs? Why do you keep putting just the right people in my life exactly when I need them? Why? Because just as He chased Taylor, He continues to chase me.
He chased me through a marriage that has only become stronger in our shared grief. He chased me to a church where I have gained new beautiful relationships that although they never knew Taylor, they love her through me. He chased me into a deeper desire to know Him and His Word in a way that I had never desired before. But I did not see the place where I find myself now. Soon after Taylor went Home, Jim and I made the choice for me to quit working outside the home. It was not just because I was grieving, but it certainly played into the decision. Not long after that decision was made, we found out that Carolyn was pregnant with her first child. I remember busting into tears because there had been some infertility issues, so this was a huge answer to prayer. But I also know those tears fell for Taylor as well. I know she would have been so excited for Carolyn and would have been ready to spoil this newest addition to our family. What I did not know was He was beginning to answer a prayer that I did not even know I was asking. April 3, 2022, Maverick Jace came into this world. There was lots of joy and excitement from the entire family as the last baby that came into the family was Nancy’s youngest, ten years prior. Maverick breathed new life into us all. But, especially into me. Carolyn has the blessing to work as a PRN, which gives her the opportunity to choose how much and when she works. She had been checking into part-time daycares but was not having too much luck. I told her that I would be happy to help until she was able to find a more permanent solution. The prayer that I did not know I was asking became their permanent solution. I became not just Maverick’s Memaw, but I am “nanny” too. He has used Maverick to be the salve that my heart so needed.

I recently began to write a blog that I titled “Chasing Beauty in Our Darkest Moments.” I realized that the God Moments that I had been posting on Facebook would not reach as large an audience as a blog may. I have since been attempting to get all my God Moments moved into this blog. I would like to end my story by sharing just one blog that also has the tenth God Moment that I wrote…
God Moment #10 that I will share below was written on a rainy day. I remember that day well. It was just weeks after my Taylor went Home and we were in that season between winter and summer. It was time to change over my closet from cold weather clothes to warm weather. I had music playing, the rain was falling, and I remember about every 10 minutes I would just sit down and cry. Of course, I cried most days as I was amid such fresh grief. But those rainy days would get me every single time. It was as if the weather was mimicking the way I felt inside. I would watch the rain drops slip down the window in time to the tear drops slipping down my face.
Over the last three years I have learned, sometimes the hard way, that we must allow ourselves to feel grief. I am learning for myself that there are days that I must sit down, allow myself to cry, scream, curl in the fetal position, if needed, whatever it takes to feel it. If you are on a grief journey, please allow me to urge you to not run from your grief. When you feel it coming, lean in. It is the healthiest thing you can do. Do not let anyone else, especially those that have not experienced tragic grief, tell you differently. Grief is healing. But I will admit, weeks like this when it has rained day after day, I tire of feeling sad. So, I go into a fake it till I make it mode because I get on my own nerves which makes me wonder if I am also on everyone else’s nerves too. Thankfully, my loving Father gives me such sweet gifts in moments such as these. Allow me to elaborate…
From the very beginning of Taylor’s life, I always loved to play music, hold her in my arms and dance. As she grew from an infant, to toddler, to preschooler, this was something that she enjoyed too. We would do this often, up to the point when I just could not carry her anymore. It was one of my sweetest memories with her. I have done this also with Maverick. Sometimes it is with music playing and sometimes I will sing to him. Over this last week when I have had music playing, Maverick, without any prompting from me, wraps his arms around me and puts his sweet head on my shoulder, and we dance. We dance, and I quietly weep. Tears of sadness of memories long past, but also tears of pure joy because of the blessing that has been given to me through Maverick.
Our Father is the giver of perfect gifts. Every day I am thankful for the perfect gift of His Son. It is only for that gift that I have the certainty of what my eternal future holds, and that future will include an eternity with Him and with Taylor.
(From God Moment #10) ~ Rainy days are the hardest. My mood matches the weather. As I sit and watch the rain drops run down the window…I feel as if it is not just a window, but a mirror reflecting my soul. Grief, especially grief of losing a child, has so many layers. The first layer is most definitely mind-numbing shock. For days I felt as if I was walking through someone else’s life. I did not sleep, and I only ate when I was reminded. I walked through those first few days in a daze. The next couple of weeks I felt like I drifted from shock to disbelief. Now I think I have reached the layer of reality and it…well, it plain sucks. Trying to wrap my mind around living in a world without her feels impossible. How will I survive my first Mother’s Day, birthday, Christmas…I cannot wrap my head or heart around it. How many more Tuesday family nights at Sarah’s will I look out the window and expect her to walk by, flipping her hair at me with that mischievous smile or Sunday dinner with her sisters and nephews waiting for her to walk through the door with that “the party is here” attitude. Oh, how I miss her. Her laugh. Her smile. Her hugs. Sometimes I can sit quietly, shut my eyes, and feel her with me. It is a gift from my Father in heaven. He reminds me that she is not gone. Her body may be in the ground, but she is at Home with Him. One day, I will be too. One day her and I will be resurrected again to live eternally. What a beautiful promise. What hope. How grateful I am, that on this rainy day when my heart is full of sorrow and tears that match the rain, I can sit by His promise that this is NOT our home. She may have gone before me, but I know she is already Home, and one day I will follow her there.
Hope & Helps
Scriptures I clung to on the hardest days/nights:
There are so many over these last three years, but the one that will always stand out the most is Proverbs 3:5-6 ~ Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your path straight. ~ This verse was on the back of Taylor’s graduation announcement along with the picture I’ve included with her story. It was a verse I prayed over her many times, but it wasn’t until she was called Home did that verse leap off the pages. Her path most certainly was not straight here on earth but because of His loving grace and mercy, when her time came, her path straightened right into heaven. The picture, along with the verse, will forever be my image of her walking into Glory.
Helpful things people did to minister to me:
- Be willing to sit in the quiet. I remember one sweet lady that I did not know all too well, sat down next to me at the church and quietly held my hand. I could feel her strength pour into me.
- Finding out the gift Taylor had as a preschool teacher. Parents and coworkers alike told me story upon story of how Taylor loved her students. In fact, the school shut down the day of her funeral. That spoke volumes to me.
- Not only receiving sweet gifts and cards right after my loss, but at milestone moments as well.
- Allowing me to speak of her. Especially to those that have come into my life since her death. I have such a great need for new friends to know my Taylor and they have all been so gracious in that need.
What you should NOT say to someone in a similar circumstance:
- If it is a sudden, tragic death, especially of a young adult, don’t ask the question of “how.” We (her parents) were not ready to speak of it right away and it became exhausting fending off those questions.
- I have lost both my parents, and they were heartbreaking losses, but they do not come close to comparing to the loss of my Taylor. Please do not say, “I know how you feel, I lost my…fill in the blank… Unless it is your child, you do not know.
- Do not compare your grief or anyone else’s grief journey to the person you are trying to comfort. All journeys look different, allow them to grieve in their own way and in their own time.
Hymns or songs that comforted me:
- 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redmon
- Into the Sea (It’s Gonna Be OK) by Tasha Layton
- Dancing in the Sky by Dani and Lizzi
- Hold Back the River by James Bay
- Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me by CityAlight
The hope Jesus has given me through my loss of Taylor:
My God Moments that I began writing shortly after her death and more recently, my blog, helped me to see how brightly He was shining His light down on me. It wasn’t just what was happening around me after her death but looking at how He was providing for me long before she was called Home. As I think of losing my Daddy just three months prior, I recognized His sovereignty in protecting my dad from a devastating loss. And even better yet was the fact that he was there to welcome Taylor Home. When I think back to those first days, I can see so clearly His hand in working all the details out so beautifully. My second God Moment told a story that happened two weeks before when Taylor and I for the first time in a long time had an argument, but it was in those moments after that I see Jesus so clearly and what a beautiful gift He gave me…This is an excerpt from that God Moment…Thankfully, our “blow out” quickly shifted to a deep, healing conversation where we were able to get a lot off our hearts and minds. My sweet chick felt bad for saying things in the heat of it and we spent 30 minutes hugging over and over again. I’ll never forget those moments as this is where God spoke loudly through her. As she hugged me, she kept whispering in my ear how good of a Mama I am. She told me that I was “perfect” for her. Repeatedly she told me not only that she loved me, but how much she loved me. But the biggest thing I will carry for the rest of my life is this…she said to me several times…”I don’t want to leave you, Mama”. Taylor knew me well, she knew I would carry the hurt from the fight with me…which is why she kept saying she didn’t want to leave me…in that moment, for that night. However, I know now, it was the Holy Spirit speaking through her…I know she would not have willfully left me. I know she loved me very much, but it does not compare to the love I feel for her, and I hope she knows just how “perfect” she was for me.
