Close-up of a sleeping newborn baby with red hair, resting on white bedding, with eyes closed and hand near face.
A man holding a newborn baby in a hospital room.
A woman with post-surgery bruises and swelling holding a newborn baby with a swollen, bruised face.

The Waiting & The Miracle

Growing up, everyone warns you about the dangers of unexpected pregnancy. They make it sound so easy. What no one prepares you for is just how hard it can be to conceive when you are actually trying.

It took my husband and I five years to conceive Hudson. Five years of ovulation strips, basal body temperature tracking, doctor’s appointments, tests, and hundreds of negative pregnancy tests. It took a toll on me in ways I can’t fully put into words.

The day I found out I was pregnant with Hudson—December 12, 2024—was the happiest day of my life. I couldn’t believe it. After years of hoping, wishing, and waiting, it was finally happening.

A couple standing outdoors near a lake, holding ultrasound images and a baby onesie that reads 'Worth the Wait,' with a smiling dog sitting in front wearing a bandana that says 'Parenting me is getting me all human.'
A woman standing sideways in a black sports bra and black pants, smiling, with a red wall and framed photos behind her.

Loving Hudson

I loved being pregnant. It was easy in so many ways. I had no morning sickness and only mild symptoms. When I started to feel Hudson move, it became my favorite part of the day. I would watch him roll across my stomach in awe. He was already a little stubborn—he would only move for me, always hiding from his daddy.

Hudson had opinions, too. He loved ice cream and milkshakes. He did not like pork—especially pork loin—but he made an exception for bacon. And he loved fireworks. Every time I watched them, he would kick like crazy, like he was celebrating right along with me.

Three women standing together at a celebration, with a decorated backdrop featuring trees and text, one woman wearing a sash and a dress, the others in summer outfits.

July 13, 2025

On July 13, I met up with my friend Jen in Colchester, Connecticut. We were carpooling to another friend’s baby shower. It was an incredibly hot day. At nearly 35 weeks pregnant, I felt heavy, uncomfortable, and ready to pop.

We left the baby shower around 3:30 PM, laughing and chatting as we headed back toward my car. We were less than five minutes away when everything changed.

Around 4:15 PM, I heard a loud engine revving and noticed a vehicle driving recklessly. Before I could fully process what was happening, the car was coming straight at us.

We were hit head-on.

This was not an accident. The driver was severely impaired—under the influence of alcohol and multiple drugs—and traveling over 90 miles per hour in the middle of the day. A series of reckless, preventable choices led to that moment.

A silver car is overturned and crashed into a grassy area with trees, showing significant damage.

The Loss & Aftermath

My friend, Jen, was killed.

Hudson Antonio Loura, my long-awaited, deeply loved baby, also did not survive.

I survived, but with severe, life-altering injuries. The physical pain has been immense, but it is nothing compared to the loss. In a single instant, everything I had fought so hard for was taken from me.

Hudson was so close to being here. His nursery was ready. His life was just beginning. And then it was gone.

There are things you can never unsee. Moments that replay over and over, no matter how much time passes. The sound. The fear. The realization of what was happening—and the terrifying awareness that it was unfolding and I couldn’t stop it.

We were simply driving home.

Because of someone else’s choices, my son never got to take his first breath.

A woman in a hospital bed with medical equipment and an oxygen tube, holding an infant dressed in hospital clothing, while a visitor stands beside her, gently touching her hand.
A sleeping newborn baby with red hair, lying on a white sheet, curled up on their side with arms and legs close to their body, wearing a diaper.

Hudson’s Legacy

But Hudson’s story does not end here.

In the midst of unimaginable loss, I knew I could not let his life be reduced to the worst day of mine. Hudson is more than the tragedy that took him—he is loved, longed for and deeply cherished. He is five years of hope. He is every kick, every craving, every quiet moment we shared before I ever got to hold him in my arms.

Hudson’s Light was created to carry that love forward—supporting families navigating infant loss and those impacted by impaired driving, while raising awareness about the devastating consequences of impaired driving.

Close-up of a small child's hand gripping an adult's hand, with the adult wearing a silver ring.

Hudson’s Law

Hudson’s story is also driving change.

The driver who hit us was severely impaired—under the influence of alcohol and multiple drugs. But he was not alone. His passenger knew he was intoxicated and still allowed him to get behind the wheel. Under current law, that passenger cannot be held criminally accountable.

That is why I am fighting for Hudson’s Law—to hold people accountable when they knowingly allow an impaired driver to drive. If you choose to get into a car with someone who is drunk or high and let them drive, you are not just a bystander—you are complicit.

Hudson’s Law would also hold vehicle owners accountable if they allow an impaired person to operate their car. Handing over your keys is not a passive act—it is a decision that can have life-altering consequences.

Hudson’s Law is about accountability. It is about prevention. It is about making sure no other family has to live with this kind of loss.

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