This is a love story that is equally lovely and painful. When they first met, fell in love, and had a kid, Liz passed away in childbirth. Matt’s actions following her passing were really inspiring.
High school students Liz Goodman and Matt Logelin first crossed paths at a gas station one sunny afternoon. Both of them were raised in Minnetonka, Minnesota, but their chance encounter marked the beginning of a real love story.
Senior year of high school was when Liz and Matt met. Fireworks sparked when she walked up to Matt after he caught her eye; the two became inseparable… up till the start of college.
As graduation drew near, the high school sweethearts had to face the fact that they were attending colleges in different parts of the country! In contrast to Matt, who remained at the University of Minnesota, Liz was traveling to California.
For this couple, who persisted and stuck together throughout their studies, the distance was nothing. Matt continued on to get his master’s degree at Loyola University of Chicago. He was contemplating getting a Ph.D. when he realized he needed to follow his heart and not his mind.
Matt was aware that he could no longer stand to be so far from his love. In order to be with Liz, he moved halfway across the nation to Los Angeles in 2005, packing his stuff.
From then on, the two proceeded to enjoy their lives to the utmost. While traveling, Liz and Matt explored new places, made memories, and deepened their understanding of one another and the world they lived in. It was just a matter of time until Matt realized that this was it and got down on one knee in Nepal to ask Liz to marry him.
In front of their friends and family, they exchanged vows to love one another forever on August 13, 2005. Seeing these lovers grab life and their love by the horns was exhilarating. For the young couple, everything seems to be going great.
They were not just happier than ever in their romantic relationships, but also in their professional lives. Liz worked as a financial professional at Disney, while Matt was a project manager at Yahoo! in California. The two decided to buy a house jointly to take advantage of their newly discovered financial security. From then, everything just got better.
After two years of marriage in 2007, the couple decided to grow their family, and they were thrilled to find out Liz was carrying their first child!
Since many of Liz and Matt’s friends and family members reside in Minnesota, they were unable to accompany them on their amazing journey to parenthood. The soon-to-be parents made the decision to take action and launched a blog to inform their loved ones of Liz’s pregnancy progress.
The journey appeared bright and joyful for the happy couple as they anticipated their first child, but Liz had a tough pregnancy. The doctors advised her to spend a few weeks in bed since she had excruciating morning sickness.
Matt kept a close eye on her since he was anxious about his wife carrying his child. It was distressing to see Liz, who is often active and energetic, confined to her bed. After that, she was taken to the hospital and told to stay in bed for a few more weeks. Matt monitored their newly launched blog about being pregnant throughout the entire incident. He had no clue what he would soon publish on that specific website.
Since Liz’s pregnancy was considered high risk, she was brought to the delivery room twice, each time at least 7 weeks early owing to false alarms. The doctors kept a careful eye on her since they didn’t want to take any chances.
The baby’s arrival into the world was finally ready. Liz was still two months early, necessitating an urgent C-section. The lives of Matt and Liz Logelin were about to undergo a significant change on March 24, 2008.
The couple welcomed Madeline (Maddy) Logelin into their family after the surgery proceeded without a problem. When she was born, she weighed barely 3 pounds, 14 ounces. Since the new parents were thrilled, Liz only had a brief opportunity to see their beautiful baby girl (photographed). The medical workers hastened to get her to the newborn critical care unit since she was born early.
Due to Liz needing to be kept under observation for a further 24 hours after giving birth, she was unable to hold their daughter straight away. Once everything was through, Liz was prepared and eager to meet her baby girl who was now awake and well. She started to ride in a wheelchair to the ward.
Matt couldn’t wait to have both of his girls in his arms, so he was there to assist his wife in their stroll around the room before they entered the ward. They were about to have the mother-child quality time they had all been looking forward to. Disaster then struck.
When his wife slouched in his arms and muttered, “I feel light-headed,” Matt gently and tenderly helped her into the wheelchair. In an effort to calm Matt, the nurses explained that it was common for women to faint after giving birth.
Matt patiently recalled, “All of a sudden, there’s this ‘code blue,’ and people are running by me.” He broke down in tears. She would never be able to hold her kid since she would pass away in this hospital that day.
Only 27 hours, or slightly more than a day after giving birth to their daughter Madeline, doctors learned that a deadly clot had gone to Liz’s lungs and caused a rare, fatal pulmonary embolism. Liz passed away at the young age of 30, only hours after giving birth to a child, from a fatal embolism. Matt was left a widower one day after becoming a parent.
In only one day, Matt went from feeling on top of the world to fearing for his life. He was devastated. The pregnancy blog was meant to be filled with images of the growing family, but instead, his subsequent essay was only about melancholy.
The first several weeks were the worst Matt had ever experienced. Every Tuesday at exactly 3:11 p.m., his thoughts would return to that fateful moment when his life changed irrevocably because he couldn’t bear to take off his wedding ring. At times, he openly questioned how he would manage in his new life without Liz at his side.
There were challenges in getting back home. There were sour reminders of Liz everywhere Matt turned. When guests asked about the baby’s mother, Matt would frank and openly reply, “She passed on the day after the kid was born,”. Even leaving the house was tough.
The only consolation Matt felt in those early days as a widower was the knowledge that his young daughter needed him and the notion that a portion of his cherished wife lived on in Madeline.
Matt was determined that he would give his daughter the finest upbringing possible despite his sadness. He’s seeking for a way to express his feelings of dread and anguish. He started posting on a parenting discussion board hosted by his hometown newspaper, The Minnesota Star Tribune. But it didn’t end there.
Maddy Logelin turned 10 years old on March 24th, 2018. Ten years had passed since her mother Liz’s terrible death at the same anniversary. Her father, family, and friends have done all in their can to encircle her with love and happiness despite her horrific history.
Matt has made his blog’s details more private as Maddy has aged. The instant Madeline shouts “stop,” it is over. “The plug will be pulled,” he would always guarantee. Over the years, Maddy has learned about her mother via stories and pictures, and her interest in her has only increased.
One day she naively questioned, “Daddy, did you grasp my mommy’s hand when she died?” She frequently asks her father questions about the activities he and her late mother used to do
Despite his best efforts to be honest and explain things to his little daughter, Matt remarked, “What I said will never take away what happened that day.” After the talk, Maddy remarked, “Daddy, I love you,” which Matt later said she understood precisely what he needed to hear. I also love you, Maddy,” he said.
My MIL Kept Bringing Her Towels and Sheets to Wash at My House – What I Found Out Left Me Speechless
My mother-in-law is obsessively organized, but when she started hauling her towels and sheets to wash at my house every week, something didn’t feel right. I was annoyed, and I knew she was hiding something. But what I discovered upon returning home early one day left me rattled.
I’m Claire, and at 29, I thought I had my mother-in-law Marlene all figured out. Four years of marriage to Evan taught me a lot, but nothing could have prepared me for what I discovered about his mother that day.
A distressed woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
First, let me tell you about Marlene. She’s always been… well, intense, is putting it mildly. She’s the type who shows up unannounced at your doorstep, armed with homemade lasagna and an endless supply of opinions about everything from how I fold my laundry to the way I organize my spice rack.
“Claire, dear,” she’d say, barging in with her signature apple pie, “I noticed your garden could use some attention. And while we’re at it, have you considered rearranging your living room furniture? The feng shui is all wrong.”
I gripped my knife tighter, counting to ten in my head as I chopped the carrots. I’d grown used to her surprise visits and constant criticism, but that didn’t make them easier to swallow.
A senior woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
“Oh honey, is that what you’re making for dinner?” Marlene’s voice drifted from my kitchen, where she stood inspecting my half-chopped vegetables. “You know Evan prefers his carrots julienned, not diced.”
“The diced carrots are for the soup stock, Marlene,” I explained, my voice tight with forced patience.
“Well, if you’re making stock, you really should roast the vegetables first. Here, let me show you—”
“I’ve got it under control,” I interrupted, stepping between her and my cutting board. “Don’t you have plans with Patrick today?”
An annoyed woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
She fidgeted with her pearl necklace. “Oh, your father-in-law’s busy with his golf tournament. I thought I’d stop by and help you get organized. Your linen closet could use some attention.”
“My linen closet is fine,” I muttered, but she was already halfway down the hallway.
“Goodness, Claire!” she called out. “When was the last time you properly folded these sheets? The corners aren’t even aligned!”
It’s exhausting, but Evan adores her, so I’ve learned to bite my tongue and smile. After all, she’s his mother, and I’d rather keep the peace than start a war I can’t win.
An annoyed senior woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
But things took a strange turn about two months ago. That’s when Marlene started showing up weekly with garbage bags full of towels and bed linens.
She’d breeze past me like it was perfectly normal, saying, “Oh, I thought I’d use your washer and dryer today. Mine aren’t working quite right anymore.”
Two weeks later, it started getting worse. I was sipping my morning coffee when the doorbell rang. There stood Marlene, clutching three large garbage bags loaded with dirty laundry.
“My washing machine’s acting up again,” she announced, pushing past me. “You wouldn’t mind if I used yours, would you, dear?”
Three large garbage bags loaded with dirty laundry | Source: Midjourney
I blinked at her retreating form. “Your washing machine? The one you just bought six months ago? You said you were going to fix it, right?”
“Oh, you know how these modern appliances are,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “They make them so complicated these days.”
I watched her disappear into my laundry room, my coffee growing cold in my hands. Something felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
That night, I brought it up to Evan. “Don’t you think it’s weird? Your mom showing up with laundry every week?”
An anxious woman sitting on the bed | Source: Midjourney
He barely looked up from his laptop. “Mom’s just being Mom. Remember when she reorganized our entire garage because she thought the holiday decorations were in the wrong boxes?”
“This feels different,” I insisted. “She seemed… nervous. Like she’s hiding something.”
“Claire,” he sighed, finally meeting my eyes. “Can we have one evening without analyzing my mother’s every move? It’s just laundry. She’s always welcome to use our washing machine. Maybe she’ll stop once she gets hers fixed.”
But it didn’t stop.
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Every week, like clockwork, Marlene would appear with her bags of laundry. Sometimes, she’d wait until I got home, and other times, she’d use her emergency key — the one we’d given her for actual emergencies, not impromptu laundry sessions.
“Found more sheets that need washing?” I asked one Wednesday, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
“Just a few things,” she replied, hurrying past me. Her hands were trembling as she loaded the washer.
A smiling senior woman standing near a washing machine | Source: Midjourney
I called Evan at work, my frustration boiling over. “Your mother’s here again. Third time this week.”
“I’m in the middle of a meeting, Claire.”
“She’s acting weird, Evan. Really weird. I think something’s going on.”
“The only thing going on is you turning this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” he snapped. “I need to go.”
I was deeply concerned by Marlene’s erratic behavior.
A suspicious woman in a laundry room | Source: Midjourney
The truth finally surfaced on a fateful Friday that week. I’d left work early, hoping to surprise Evan with a home-cooked meal. Instead, I was the one surprised when I saw Marlene’s car in our driveway.
The washing machine’s hum guided me to the laundry room as I quietly entered the house. She was frantically transferring wet linens from washer to dryer, her perfectly manicured nails catching on the fabric in her haste.
“Marlene?”
“Claire! I… I didn’t expect you home so early!” She screamed, spinning around.
A senior woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
“Clearly,” I said, taking in the scene. That’s when I saw a pillowcase with distinct rusty red stains. My stomach lurched. “What is that?”
“Nothing!” She reached for it, but I was faster.
“Is this BLOOD?” My voice shook. “Marlene, what’s going on?”
“It’s not what you think,” she whispered, her face draining of color.
My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. “Tell me the truth right now, or I’m calling the police.”
A suspicious woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
“No!” She lunged for my phone. “Please, I can explain!”
“Then explain! Because from where I’m standing, this looks really fishy.”
“I’ve been…” She sank onto the dryer, her shoulders slumping. “I’ve been helping injured animals.”
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. “WHAT?”
“Strays,” she continued, tears welling up in her eyes. “I find them at night… cats, dogs, even a baby raccoon once. I wrap them in towels and take them to the emergency vet. Last night, I found a little puppy. He was curled up near a dumpster. Poor thing was hurt.”
An emotional senior woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
I sat down on a chair, trying to process this revelation. “But why all the secrecy?”
“Patrick,” she said, twisting her wedding ring. “He’s severely allergic to animal fur. If he knew I was bringing strays into our garage…” She shuddered. “Last year, I tried to help an injured cat. He was so angry and threatened to cancel our joint credit card. Said I was wasting money on ‘worthless creatures.’”
“So you’ve been secretly saving animals and washing the evidence at OUR house?”
She nodded miserably. “Last week, I found a dog with a broken leg behind the supermarket. The week before, it was a cat trapped in a storm drain. I couldn’t just leave them there, Claire. I couldn’t. Those poor things.”
A compassionate senior woman holding a tabby cat | Source: Midjourney
“How many animals have you helped?”
“Over 71 since January,” she whispered. “All of them found homes, except for the ones that were too far gone to save.” Her voice cracked on the last words.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I gently squeezed her hand.
“Everyone already thinks I’m controlling and obsessive,” she wiped her eyes with a damp tissue. “I didn’t want to give them another reason to judge me.”
An emotional senior woman wiping her tears | Source: Midjourney
“Judge you? Marlene, this is amazing.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“I think you’re brave,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it. “And I want to help you.”
“You do?”
“Of course. But no more sneaking around. We’ll do this together, okay?”
She hugged me then, something she’d never done before. “Thank you, Claire. You don’t know what this means to me.”
A young woman smiling warmly | Source: Midjourney
That evening, after helping Marlene fold her now-clean linens, I heard Evan’s key in the lock. I quickly wiped away the tears we’d shed while she told me stories about all the animals she’d saved.
“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing the laundry basket. “Mom’s washing machine still broken?”
I thought about the kitten Marlene had described finding last evening, barely alive in a dumpster. About how she’d stayed up all night feeding it with an eyedropper. About this whole other side to the woman I’d misjudged for so long.
A man in a room | Source: Midjourney
“Actually,” I smiled, “I think her washing machine’s not gonna work for quite some time. She can feel free to use ours. I don’t mind!”
“Really? I thought you were—”
“Let’s just say your mom has her reasons,” I said, thinking of our new shared secret. “And they’re better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
I left that conversation with a new understanding of the woman I’d thought I knew. And while our relationship would never be perfect, I learned that sometimes the most beautiful truths hide in the most unexpected places… even in a pile of crimson-stained laundry.
A cheerful woman holding folded laundry | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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