She had only been gone a few days. I took the big kids to the zoo in a desperate and hurried attempt to do something. Anything. It seemed like something “normal people” and “regular families” would do? The corner of Children’s Hospital suddenly jarred into my line of vision as we crossed the pedestrian bridge to the main entrance. I wanted to curl up in a fetal position, ball up in a heap against the fencing and just CRY. But instead I clenched my jaw together, quickened my pace to match the racing of my heart and looked the other way. The big kids, oblivious, walked beside me trying to decide which exhibit to visit first. It’s not that I’m in the habit of concealing my sadness from them – but there’s a time and a place nor did I want to project my negative connotations of the hospital on them.

It turned out to be a nice day, all things considered. We ebbed back and forth from spells of laughter to walking along in the new and indelible sadness that was now a part of us. As we sat eating lunch my thoughts drifted off to Shouldawouldacoulda Land. I had such dreams to bring Nora to the zoo. I reminded myself that my starry-eyed expectations undoubtedly were a far cry from the likely reality of it. Nornor was very much a “homebaby”. She tolerated her trips out here and there, but she was always happiest and most content in her “nest” in her familiar living room. Meanwhile, back in reality, a little piece of milkweed fluff drifted down in front of my face and landed right in the middle of my pizza. I really didn’t think anything of it at first, but it was definitely odd that it landed THERE — and so obviously. “It’s FUZZ!!!!!!!!!” Greta exclaimed. “Fuzz” was also the endearing term we used for Nora’s fuzzy hair.




We loved to sniff her fuzz and rub our cheeks in it. It was so so soft and smelled absolutely delicious. I smiled through the tears that welled up in my eyes, and that’s how it began. From thereafter we began seeing the fuzz in obvious and sometimes unlikely places, but always with perfect timing. It’s not just limited to milkiesweed. It can also be thistle down and dandelion fluff. One of my favorite instances was in a park. I saw the “fuzz” first, and then 2 small children saw it and started laughing and chasing it. Our Kelly even had a piece hover in front of her IN the house right as a song came on that reminded her of Norns.

This piece drifted into my car window while at the cemetery ~

A tickling of the silky filaments across my nose and lips can evoke the sweetest of memories… what it was like to love her, to breathe her in, her precious smell, her soft perfect babyness, the beloved texture of her own sweet fuzz!

2014.07.017 008a 2014.07.017 009b

And then the more I thought of it, these little fuzzy reminders are analogous to that fuzzy little baby in more ways than just their fuzziness. Each encounter, story, video, picture, etc. of Lady Baby had a metaphoric little seed attached to it. Little seeds that took root in so many hearts. I look out across the field, my cheeks sparkling with tears at all of the beautiful flowers that Nora has left behind. Renewed faith in God, new friendships, heightened friendships, inspired pregnancies, and the heartfelt prayers that sustain us — THOSE flowers.

This is a cute and seemingly random shot of little Greta from the maternity photo session back in April 2012 shortly before our own fuzzy little dandelion graced this world with her presence, scattering sweet seeds all over the place ~


We had fun with some milkiesweed pods in the backyard that we discovered in early November on a warm afternoon.







For just as the ground produces its crops and a garden yields its produce, so the sovereign LORD will cause deliverance to grow, and give his people reason to praise him in the sight of all the nations.
(Isaiah 61:11 NET)

7 thoughts on “Fuzzy

  1. Love hearing about her fuzz and how you are experiencing it everywhere!! And these pictures of precious Nora are such a blessing to see on here! 🙂 xoxo

  2. I wanted to write as I have not for sometime. Thank you for continuing to share your life with the world. I am so sorry for the pain all of you have to endure. I think of you often. I realize now when we traveled in June 2013 from WA to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital we were probably staying so close to you. I wish I had arranged a meeting. Sadly, we may have to travel back there at some point for my son’s medical condition. If that does happen I would love to meet you. When we were there we went to the zoo. As you described your experiences there I felt as if I was walking along side of you. I began to cry also. You are so inspiring. I was having a a challenging morning caring for my 4 children, 3 of them have intense medical and/or special needs. My oldest has had a life threatening condition this past year. I had to leave the rest of my children to be with her in Denver in November for her care. My youngest is little Mary who has Trisomy 21. You helped remind me this morning to turn to God more and your strength gives me strength. Thank you for that! I will keep all of you in my prayers.

  3. I saw you posted over the weekend while I was at my daughters’ dance competition, but chose not to read it yet bc I always want to soak in what you write. I just read it today, and the timing was perfect. It has been a rough day on a lot of levels–but seeing Nora’s face, as well as your other kiddos, and remembering the love and faith she brought into this world is what I needed. Thank you!

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