Sometimes I find myself wondering what Hazel would think if she could see all of this. Not the foundation paperwork. Not the countless emails. Not the late nights planning events or organizing fundraisers. But the people. The community. The love. The impact. The legacy. When Hazel was here, she was only with us for six short months. Six months of smiles, snuggles, milestones, and memories that somehow feel both impossibly distant and vividly close all at the same time. Like a

Before Hazel died, I thought I understood motherhood. I thought being a mom meant protecting my children, loving them endlessly, making memories, showing up every day, and doing everything possible to give them a beautiful life. And while all of those things are true, grief changed motherhood for me in ways I never could have imagined. Some painful. Some beautiful. Some impossible to explain unless you’ve lived it. Before losing Hazel, I worried about normal parent things. Sc

When people think about nonprofit organizations and memorial foundations, the first thing they usually think about is fundraising. Golf outings. 5Ks. Events. Sponsorships. Donations. And trust me — those things matter. They matter a lot. The support we receive through fundraising helps us continue honoring Hazel’s life while supporting causes that mean everything to our family. It allows us to partner with organizations like Lifebanc, support safe sleep education through Crib

The story honestly starts long before we lost Hazel. It started before she was even born. I’m Hazel’s mom, Jamie, and I’m writing this blog because so many people ask what happened...and while it’s incredibly painful to talk about, I also know how many families are searching for answers, understanding, or simply trying to make sense of something so unimaginable. Before Hazel, I experienced 9 miscarriages. Nine. By the time I got pregnant with her, I truly didn’t know if I wou