01/27/2026
We were just days away from witnessing a radical and world-tilting miracle, something so profound that would leave us wholly changed. Something so wild and untamed and eternal that could neither be explained nor quantified that would serve as a reminder of impossible redefined. And I don’t even necessarily mean the miracle that Zev survived—but the miracle that we *all* did.
And yet. When I look at this photo, I see sweet Zev, fighting so hard to live, so hard to just stay alive for one more day. His weight down to a pound, all his systems struggling to continue functioning in any capacity, his lungs on the verge of giving up for the last time. The grief is so tender, the ache so deep, the sorrow so pronounced, even now, even when I know the miracle is close at hand, even though Zev is here today.
The vast range of emotions, the humility and the gravity and the gratitude wrapped up in a moment like this in the NICU journey is almost impossible to describe unless you’ve lived it. They are at times quiet and pensive. They are at times completely overwhelming.
For our families who hold and know these unique feelings—both the grief and the glory of it all—as you reflect at the same time as you move forward, as you approach the emotions that come alongside your own miracles whatever they look like, know that you are safe to feel them and that you are not alone.
Even Jesus wept before he raised Lazarus from the dead. So can you, even if you know the miracle’s coming. ❤️
