3 Years Without Hazel

It's hard to believe that it's been 3 years since we last saw our sweet Hazel. Some days, it feels like just yesterday, while on others, it seems like an eternity has passed. Our lives have changed dramatically since that day 3 years ago. I'd love to take this moment to reflect on the past 3 years and share some of the coping strategies we've used to improve our mental well-being. Let's be honest, nothing—absolutely nothing—can prepare you for the loss of a child.

I recall sitting in the waiting room after Hazel was airlifted to downtown UH Rainbow Babies & Children, feeling deep down that she wasn't going to survive. I remember the doctor entering the room and informing us that she had no brain activity, and at that moment, it felt like I couldn't breathe. It was as if everything in my body shut down, or at least that's how it seemed. That day remains a blur. Sean and I reflected on it often, and it's remarkable how the mind tends to block out traumatic experiences. It's as if it understands that you don't need to dwell on those terrible memories.

For the next 24 hours, I struggled to comprehend living the rest of my life without my daughter—the daughter we fought so hard to have and the only one we'll ever have. I realized we had no choice but to stay strong for Lucas and Jackson, and for everyone else. The strange thing about this grief is that everyone around you is also falling apart, and you feel like you have to be the strong one... at least, that's how I felt. When strangers across the country are crying for you, you feel compelled to be strong and reassure THEM that everything will be okay. In hindsight, that seems quite absurd.

We are not unique. Although it may feel like you are completely alone during these times, we are not unique. One thing I have learned through this process is that MANY people have experienced the loss of a child. There is an entire network of individuals who have been in our position, who have lived through the same nightmare we have... and some have faced even worse. It's truly difficult to comprehend that such things can occur and how unjust life can be. It challenges your limits as a human, as a parent, and as a spouse.

The past three years have truly challenged us. Honestly, if we didn't have the other children, I'm not sure we would have made it through. Facing such profound grief while needing to remain strong for your other kids is quite an accomplishment, to be frank. We are now at a stage where Lucas is beginning to ask numerous questions about what happened. Simply knowing that she died isn't enough for him. He struggles to understand how she was with us for only six months and how she could pass away at such a young age. The hardest part is that we don't even know exactly what happened. We just keep telling him that she went to sleep one day and never woke up.

It's difficult to accept that Owen will never meet her. She will remain a part of his imagination, a story we continue to share with him. Through the foundation, I am glad we can preserve her memory and name in our hearts and in the hearts of others, but it still doesn't feel sufficient. I am certain Lucas will keep talking to Owen about Hazel, even as his memories inevitably begin to fade.

There are many common topics and situations that deeply affect me, tugging at my emotions and leaving me with a deep sense of sadness.

• Family photos

• Observing fathers with their daughters

• First dances at weddings

• The inquiry, "how many children do you have?"

• Seeing brothers with their sisters

• Girls' clothing in stores

• Mother and daughter bonds

Just to name a few....

The truth is, I understand that our lives will never return to what they once were. I realize this is something we will contend with for the rest of our lives. However, it's remarkable how much we've grown since that tragic time three years ago. As time goes on, it genuinely has gotten easier. The cries and outbursts have become less frequent, which I wholeheartedly welcome. We've now reached a stage where we feel guilty for actually being happy, but honestly, that's the best place we could be.