Hello, Again
Happy heavenly 7th birthday, sweet girl! We have the cupcakes for dessert already picked out and Lora is looking forward to singing happy birthday to her big sis tonight. We thank God every day that we were given you, that we were chosen to be your parents.
Seven years ago today, Norah made her expectation-shattering entrance into the world. She was born with Trisomy 13 — a rare genetic condition causing multiple significant physical differences. Often written off as ‘incompatible with life’, lifespans of those with T13 actually range anywhere from mid-pregnancy through teen years; Norah lived for 5 days before the challenges of her condition ultimately ended her life.
Hello, Norah began as a way for us to update friends and family throughout the pregnancy and Norah’s brief life. After her death, writing became a way to process grief, honor her legacy, and connect with fellow loss families. As life moved forward, though, I wrestled with how to incorporate new chapters of our story into this space I had originally created just for Norah. Would sharing about the siblings that followed her, about new joys and new heartaches somehow dilute this space we had created to carry her memory?
After Norah, we walked through several more life-altering experiences, each powerful stories in their own right:
The same week that we buried Norah, we found out my mother had stage 4 lung cancer, and she died within the year.
In 2019 we gave birth to our second daughter, Lora, on the day before Mom’s birthday. She is our miraculous and wild 5 year old.
In 2020 I miscarried our 3rd child, August, at 9 weeks.
In 2022, after 1.5 years of secondary infertility, I became pregnant again. Unfortunately, we lost our daughter, Ava, at 6 weeks.
A few months after Ava, I was pregnant again. This time, we made it to the 20 week ultrasound before hearing the words ‘there is no heartbeat’. Our daughter Zoe, was the second child we’ve had to steward through a funeral home. Zoe died of complications of Trisomy 18 – yet another rare genetic condition. (And yes, we’ve done genetic testing between Lane and I to learn that all of our losses and the genetic conditions have been true scientific flukes. We’re just walking statistical anomalies.)
After Zoe’s death I needed a break. I needed to begin to process what it meant to carry all these experiences without breaking and losing myself. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share any of it any more. For a while the words stopped coming.
Honestly, my soul was exhausted.
Now, after taking nearly a year off, I finally feel ready to evolve Hello, Norah. I feel confident in the way we choose to honor all of our children in heaven, and how we choose to live the beautiful life in front of us. Because, the thing is, death may play a big role in our family’s story, but it doesn’t define it. Not even close.
We’ve spent countless hours praying, begging, and pleading with God only to be met with the sting of His ‘No’s and ‘Not Yet’s. But we’ve also been blessed with many of His ‘Yes’s — beautiful, joyful moments found right alongside impossibly heartbreaking ones.
We’re in no way more equipped to handle this ridiculous life than anyone else; I promise our day-to-day is just as uniquely chaotic as yours. But at this point we have a cabin in the valley of the shadow of death. Maybe you’ve found yourself here too. So stop by. Let me pour you some coffee while rest your feet a minute. Our stories might have more in common than you think.
Hello, Norah isn’t intended to be your source of hope — that’s a job for the Holy Spirit to tackle. But I will be here as a friend in the valley, pointing out the flowers that bloom in the darkest places. Showing you how we live the word ‘and’ every day: heartbroken and joyful, grieving and celebrating, hurting and healing. Sharing how we survive.
Your experience, your life, your faith journey all will be different than ours, and it will evolve as uniquely your story does. But maybe our story will encourage you to take your next step forward.
Hebrews 12:1 says “Run with endurance the race set before you.”
Let’s keep going, friends.
