On August 24, 2025, we learned that our precious Ava Jane had gone to Heaven. The following day, at 35.5 weeks, exactly one month before her due date, our beautiful daughter was born sleeping.

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Ava never knew anything but the warmth of my belly, the love of her Mommy and Daddy, and the perfect, pure love of her Savior. While we ache every day to have our daughter here with us, we are deeply grateful that she has only ever known the fullness of the Father’s love.

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Ava was our miracle through embryo adoption. Throughout my pregnancy, we had been told she had blonde hair and blue eyes. When she was born, she had beautiful brown hair just like me. She also had a tiny little scrunched up toe that looked just like one of mine. DNA or not, there was never any question that Ava was and is completely and unmistakably ours. Those precious similarities felt like one of the many tender gifts God gave to us in the midst of our worst nightmare.

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Because I was born with Spina Bifida, my options for delivering Ava were more complicated. Ultimately, I had to make the devastating decision to be fully asleep during a C-section for her birth. One of the hardest parts was knowing I would not be awake when my daughter was born, and Ryan could not be in the room with us. Before surgery, I asked that Ava be placed on my chest for skin to skin. I knew she was already safe in the arms of Jesus, but I still needed to have my baby girl against my chest, even if I was asleep. Our nurses understood the weight of that request without needing it explained. 

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For the four days that we were in the hospital, our nurses cared for Ava as well as us with such tenderness, making sacred, uninterrupted space to be her Mommy and Daddy. Those four days we had with our daughter are the most treasured days we now carry. During the most horrific and devastating time of our lives, our nurses stepped into our grief with tenderness. They carried compassion, unwavering love, and extraordinary strength. They cared for Ava with dignity. They protected our time with her. They cried with us, advocated for us, and helped us create the most precious memories we will cherish for a lifetime. They could not make what happened less heartbreaking, but they made sure we did not have to walk through it alone.

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I'll never forget the day. I sat in the hospital holding Ava, and I looked at my nurse and told her that because of them, I was going to start Ava's Army. At the time, I did not know exactly what that looked like. I only knew that the people who walk so closely with families through loss deserve to be seen, supported, and cared for too.

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One year later, Ava’s Army now exists. To honor and care. To walk alongside deep, gut-wrenching grief, while offering hope, and community. To remember. Ava’s Army was born out of grief and grew from a heart filled with deep gratitude for the community of nurses and Mamas I have built over the past year.

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Ava's story cannot be told without telling Jesus. He is the ONLY reason my husband and I are still standing today. He has revealed Himself to us deeply and unmistakably, walking with us through EVERY step of Ava's story. From triage until even now, showing us His kindness in ways He did not have to, but so graciously has.

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We are still grieving our daughter deeply, but we do not grieve without hope. Because of Jesus, this separation is temporary. Ava is whole. The only scars in Heaven are on the hands of Jesus, and one day, for the first time, I will be able to run. To my daughter, and to my Father in Heaven. Until that day, we will continue to build Ava's Army. We will continue asking God to make beauty from the ashes through our precious Ava Girl’s story—for His glory, and for our good.