Free One Light Still Shines: My Life Beyond the Shadow of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting by Marie Monville

good or bad. So as Charlie and I compared names we liked, I researched their meanings. We decided to give each of our children a middle name from someone in our family, a perfect way to honor our family heritage and carry that legacy into the future.
    I felt pretty sure I was carrying a girl, and the ultrasound confirmed it. As we chose to name our unborn child Elise Victoria — Elise meaning “pledged to God” and Victoria after my sister, meaning “victorious” — we felt one step closer to the reality of holding her. Everything was going just as it should. I was healthy; our baby was growing. It felt like perfection.
    I soon discovered the special bond among women when it comes to the experience of pregnancy — a knowing nod from a woman who has been there, a shared laugh as we ask questions of one another that we’d never known to ask before our bodies began to change so drastically. I was enjoying sharing every aspect of this journey, not only with my mom, but also with some friends at church. That is when it first occurred to me: Where were Charlie’s friends?
    When Charlie and I began to date, he, like most men I knew,didn’t have a large group of friends, just a couple of solid relationships with guys he trusted. As our life had shifted toward marriage and his friends remained single, those friendships fell away. The activities they’d previously shared as singles weren’t as appealing to Charlie as a newlywed. Now that he was going to be a father, where were the friends with whom he could share this experience?
    “Sure, sometimes I miss my old friends,” Charlie said when I asked him about it. “Maybe I should give a few of the guys a call one weekend.” Though he spoke about rekindling the fading connections, he never actually sought out or replaced those relationships. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. But looking back, I can see that his lack of deep, meaningful relationships became detrimental later. He had no “brother” to lean on, no shoulder to cry on, and no one to confide in, aside from me. Only years later would I discover the disastrous consequences of this choice.
    At the time, since it wasn’t worrying Charlie, I decided it shouldn’t worry me. After all, it was common for friendships to come and go throughout the years. Young and living in our idealistic little world, we both assumed that we’d quickly establish new relationships with other couples with children.
    I took some comfort in knowing that Charlie greatly enjoyed his construction work and seemed to enjoy the guys on the crew. Though he never socialized with them outside of work, he’d fill me in on the events of his days and the lives of his coworkers.
    Charlie also started talking about his interest in becoming a milk hauler like my dad. Secretly, I’d cringe. I would change the subject of conversation. I’d grown up with my dad often working seventy to eighty hours a week, over holidays and weekends. I didn’t want the same for my new family.
    In late September (right around twenty weeks of pregnancy), life took a frightening turn.
    “Charlie!” I called early one morning from the bathroom. “Something’s wrong!”
    Hearing the panic in my voice, he instantly leaped out of bed and came running. “What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but some. Something’s wrong.” Afraid, I started to cry.
    Charlie stayed calm. In a comforting voice, he said, “Marie, you’re going to be fine. Don’t panic. Let’s get you into bed and call the doctor.”
    We saw our obstetrician that day, who sent me for testing. The tests couldn’t determine the cause of the bleeding, so I was put on bed rest until the bleeding stopped or the baby was born. I had to stop working — in fact, I felt I had no connection to the outside world. It was a frightening time for both of us. Although I showed no signs of being in labor, there was a risk that our daughter could