Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

My husband, Ryan, and I are blessed to have been raised in faith-driven families. Both of us attended Catholic schools, where we learned not only academics but also the values that would shape our hearts and guide our choices, including a wholehearted embrace of the truth that every life is a gift. Those lessons were no longer just ideals in the fall of 2004. That’s when we were faced with one of the most important decisions of our lives, choosing life for our own family.

Shortly after getting married, we were surprised with the news that a baby was on the way. Although we had only been husband and wife for a short time, we embarked on this unexpected gift with excitement, knowing it would be the beginning of our greatest adventure together. Around 10 weeks into the pregnancy, something didn’t feel quite right. Trusting my instincts, I made an appointment with my doctor. After the initial visit, I was sent to another floor of the building for further testing. I called Ryan and asked him to meet me; I knew something was off.

The ultrasound revealed concerns. The doctors suspected our son, Peyton, had Arthrogryposis, a condition characterized by joint contractures and stiffness in two or more areas of the body. They recommended an amniocentesis to confirm the diagnosis. A week later, it was official.

We were quickly ushered into a whirlwind of consultations. A team of medical professionals laid it all out on the table and prepared us for a broad spectrum of possibilities, from the best-case scenarios to the worst-case scenarios. Among those options, spoken almost clinically, was the choice to terminate the pregnancy.

Nothing can truly prepare you for that kind of moment. The fear of the unknown, the weight of risking your health for the life of another, the overwhelming uncertainty of what is the right choice. But for Ryan and me, there was no choice to make. Life was the only answer.
We threw ourselves into research, trying to learn everything we could about Arthrogryposis, supported by the prayers, love, and encouragement of our family and friends. Each month of pregnancy brought two doctor visits: one with my regular OB-GYN and one with a specialist. Even with all the monitoring and high-level care, there were still many unknown details the ultrasounds simply couldn’t show. But we kept moving forward, step by step, placing our trust in God’s plan.

During that season of waiting and uncertainty, Ryan’s mother, Mercedes Picou, heard about a priest nearby who held healing services. Without hesitation, she arranged a private appointment for us. That’s how we met Father Manny.

I remember that day vividly, sitting in his office, explaining our situation. He listened with such calm and compassion, then asked if he could pray over my belly. As he prayed, something extraordinary happened: for the very first time, I felt Peyton really move, a sign of life, of hope, of God’s nearness.

Before we left, Father Manny gave us an assignment: to pray together every night before bed. It was simple, but deeply grounding. That nightly ritual became a source of strength, a reminder that we were not walking this journey alone.

On March 29, 2005, we welcomed the greatest miracle of all, our son, Peyton Anthony Picou. With a head full of hair and the cutest chubby cheeks, we fell instantly and completely in love. We didn’t see a child with a disability. We saw God’s unconditional love wrapped in a tiny, perfect body.

The hospital staff moved quickly to tend to Peyton’s needs. Pediatric therapists were on hand to create custom hand and foot splints to help begin correcting his contractures. Appointments were scheduled, referrals made, and plans put in motion. But more than anything, we were sent home with a deeper mission: to walk a journey of faith, love, and perseverance to help Peyton become everything God created him to be.

Early on, Ryan laid down a ground rule in our home: “There’s no such thing as can’t.” That simple phrase became a powerful mindset not just for Peyton but for all of us. Every opportunity that came our way, whether it was occupational therapy, physical therapy, water therapy, or private sessions, we said yes. We committed to doing it all. We never wanted Peyton to one day ask, “Why didn’t you try this for me?” So we tried everything.

As Peyton grew, we continued to encourage him to pursue every dream that stirred in his heart. He wanted to play soccer? Absolutely. A children’s triathlon? Let’s do it. Join the swim team? We’re all in. Whatever the challenge, our answer was always, “Let’s try.”
Through his grit and determination, and yes, despite pain, therapy, surgeries, and setbacks, Peyton pressed forward. In high school, he participated in varsity sports, competing in swimming and serving as the manager of the baseball team. What he wanted most was inclusion, normalcy, and to be seen for who he was, not for what he couldn’t do, but for all that he could.

All of these experiences shaped the incredible young man he is today. He is entirely independent, driving himself, living on his own, and embracing this new season of life with courage and confidence. Rooted in a strong Catholic faith of his own, Peyton now attends Louisiana Tech University in Ruston, where he’s studying mechanical engineering. He’s deeply involved at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church on campus and ministers to his peers through his quiet witness and servant’s heart.

When Peyton moved away to college, someone asked me, “How are you not sad?” And I replied, “How can we be sad? We’ve worked so hard to get him to this moment and we are finally here.  We are so proud of him.”

Looking at the man Peyton has become, we are filled with overwhelming joy and the deep, abiding peace that comes from knowing we chose life and it was the most rewarding “yes” we could ever say.