Everyone has a before and after moment. For some, it’s something wonderful like having children, for others it’s something horrible, like an accident. My before and after moment came while wearing this maternity shirt and sitting on a medical bed covered in white crinkle paper.

The last time I wore this shirt was four years ago, the day my doctor told me my son had a 99% chance of having Down syndrome. Months of grieving ensued. The way the doctor delivered the news led me to believe my son had a life not worth living, between his words and my own ignorance, I grieved as if a death had taken place.

I round up clothes once or twice a year to donate and I always come across this shirt. I’m done having children, there’s no need to keep an oversized maternity top, and yet I can’t part with it. It clothed who I was before and reminds me of how far I have come.

There are things I wish I could go back and change about that day and the following weeks. But I can’t. And I guess that’s how life goes. Sometimes we have to walk through the fire. If we walk around it, if we try to put it out and move on too quickly, there can be more heartache and little change. But when we walk through it, parts of us turn to ash, the parts that needed to die a long time ago. We emerge refined.

I don’t mean to be trite. Many people’s before and after moments are too dark, no amount of new perspective from their moment will wrap their misfortune in a nice package the way some expect. But for many of us, the before and after moment is not all bad, nor all good, but both. It is unquestionably powerful. It has the power to destroy and transform.

I can’t part with this shirt because it is the turning point of my story. The day the blaze sparked, I prayed for my son to be healed, but it took months of walking through the flames to discover I was the one in need of healing. This shirt holds my past, present, and future. This shirt reminds me that thanks to the flames and subsequent love, I am forever changed.