What Happened to Hazel?

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 would ever be able to carry another baby and bring them home. So when we finally realized this pregnancy was really happening — that we were actually going to have another baby — it felt life changing. And when we found out she was a girl, it honestly felt like a dream come true.

Don’t get me wrong, we absolutely adore our boys. But both my husband and I were so excited to welcome a little girl into our family. Hazel was so deeply wanted, prayed for, and loved before she ever even entered this world.

When she was born, everything felt surreal. Along with the normal stress of bringing home a newborn, there was this overwhelming feeling of gratitude because I truly had reached a point where I didn’t think this would ever happen for us again. Every moment with her felt special.

As my maternity leave started coming to an end, we began figuring out childcare. Our son was already enrolled in a daycare that we absolutely loved...and still love to this day, it's the same daycare our youngest son Owen attends now...but it was extremely expensive to have two children there. Since our 8 year old (4 years old at the time) son, Lucas, had thrived in an in-home daycare when he was a baby, we thought maybe that would be the best option for Hazel too.

I posted in a local Facebook childcare group that many families on the west side of Cleveland use, it's how we found Lucas's babysitter, and eventually found a woman with an opening... who had great recommendations. We met with her, toured her home, and everything seemed fine. She appeared organized, experienced, legit and caring, so we enrolled Hazel to attend three days a week once I returned to work. My dad would watch her the other two days, just like he had done for Lucas.

Very early on, though, we realized Hazel wasn’t adjusting well there. But if you ever had the chance to meet Hazel, you know she was incredibly attached to her people...which included me, her daddy, her brother, her grandma and her papa. She didn’t warm up easily to anyone. Her babysitter reassured us constantly that this was normal, that she would settle in with time. And to be fair, there were some good days. But there were far more difficult ones.

About 1 month after she started there, we made the decision that we needed to get her into the daycare Lucas was attending. At that point, we didn’t care about the cost anymore...we just knew in our hearts it was the right move. We were placed on a waiting list and told she’d be able to start that September. It was only a couple months away, and we truly believed we just had to hold on a little longer.

The week of July 16–23, 2022, we took a family trip to Corolla Beach OBX. Looking back, I am endlessly grateful for that week. We made beautiful memories with our sweet girl, and I hold onto those moments so tightly now. But deep down, I knew returning home and getting back into the babysitting routine was going to be hard for Hazel. She struggled anytime her routine changed, and I knew going back would upset her.

That ended up being the last week of Hazel’s life.

On Monday, July 25th, just before noon, I got a phone call from her babysitter. Immediately, I knew something was wrong because she had never called me during the workday before. I was working from home at the time and was actually on a one-on-one video call with my boss. I muted myself and answered the phone.

On the other end was complete panic. She was hysterical, saying Hazel had stopped breathing, that paramedics were there working on her, and that I needed to come immediately.

It was every mother’s worst nightmare.

I was home alone, completely frozen and confused, trying desperately to understand what was happening. I kept asking questions but couldn’t process any of the answers. And honestly, it was in that exact moment that my life changed forever.

A police officer at the scene...someone we still know to this day, whose children attend school with ours and who supports our golf outing every year...got on the phone and explained what was happening. Hazel had been put down for a nap. The babysitter went to check on her and found she wasn’t breathing. Paramedics were attempting to revive her.

I called my husband. I called my dad. I called my mom. Everyone came running. My husband rushed home to get me, and we drove to St. John’s Hospital in Westlake.

Walking into that hospital felt like stepping into a nightmare you can never wake up from. There were more than 20 people surrounding our daughter. The emergency entrance was blocked off. CPS was there. Child advocates were there. A priest was there. Doctors, nurses, investigators — everywhere. It was chaos and heartbreak all at once.

They worked tirelessly to stabilize Hazel so she could be life-flighted downtown. When they finally got her stable enough, my husband went with her in the helicopter while I drove with my parents behind them.

And then we waited.

Deep down, I think I already knew. Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew before the doctor ever walked into the room. When they told us she had gone too long without oxygen, that her brain had severely swollen, and that she was essentially brain dead, it confirmed what my heart already feared.

But nothing prepares you for hearing those words out loud. Nothing.

At the same time we were trying to process the unimaginable, investigators were asking questions and the babysitter’s home became an active crime scene. In the end, though, no one was held responsible. Hazel’s death was classified as a sudden infant death.

But if I’m being honest, that explanation has never sat right with us.

Hazel passed away on July 26th, 2022, just shy of 7 months.

After her death, extensive testing showed Hazel was perfectly healthy. There were no underlying conditions. My husband and I underwent genetic testing ourselves and nothing significant was found. We pursued a wrongful death case, but without enough evidence, it couldn’t go anywhere legally.

As her mother, I constantly have questions lingering in my heart. I believe Hazel was extremely upset that day. I think she was crying intensely, feeling overwhelmed, and wasn't comforted as she needed. I believe she was laid down for a nap in that state, and I think she was so distressed that it became difficult for her to breathe or catch her breath. The idea that she might have felt frightened, alone, or neglected in her final moments is something that haunts me every day.

I have never publicly mentioned the babysitter's name, nor have I revealed her identity or spoken to her since. This is partly because I need to preserve what little peace I have remaining. However, both she and her husband were present that day, and there are details that will likely never make sense to us. It is unbelievably infuriating. I believe that someday I might attempt to have a conversation with her, discussing the topic from one mom to another. However, I don't feel strong enough for that now, and I'm uncertain if I ever will be.

What I carry most now is guilt. The unbearable kind. The kind that replays every decision over and over in your mind. I wish so badly we had moved quicker to take her out of that environment. I wish we had trusted our instincts sooner.

When people ask what happened to Hazel, this is the answer: something unimaginable happened to a little girl who was deeply loved, deeply wanted, and should still be here. And for the rest of my life, I will carry both the love we have for her and the heartbreak of losing her.