On August 19, 2021, Will and I became parents. Our identical twin girls, Isla and Carter, arrived after six days of contractions and hospital visits, six days of trying everything we could to keep them in a little longer, to help them grow. They were only 35 weeks along.

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Four days before the scheduled c-section everything changed. At this last check-up appointment Carter's heart stopped. With some quick tests I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome, and doctors performed an emergency c-section. Because of the syndrome and my low blood count, I couldn't have an epidural which only left general anesthesia.  This meant Will and I weren't able to see the birth, hold our girls in those first moments, or even hold them in the same room, the moments every parent imagines long before their babies arrive.

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Isla was rushed to the NICU, where she spent the next week of her life fighting to grow stronger. We're endlessly grateful that she is doing well today. Once I woke from anesthesia the hard realization set in, Carter was gone. We were given a short window of time with her... minutes we have held onto every single day since.

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That short window with Carter is something no amount of words can really hold.  On the labor and delivery floor, surrounded by happiness and babies crying, we were handed our silent and still little girl. She was ours completely, even in stillness, wrapped up and held and already so loved. In the time since, we've learned to carry two things at once: grief for the daughter we lost, and love for the daughter who lived. If we could go back and change one thing, it would be to have more minutes with her.

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That short window with our daughter is part of why this foundation exists. More time with her, even a few more hours, would have meant everything. A CuddleCot gives grieving families that time. No parent should have to measure their goodbye in minutes because a hospital didn't have the equipment to give them more.