Angela’s Legacy of Hope- Legado de Esperanza

10/16/2026

You do not need to hide your grief to make others comfortable.

You are allowed to say your baby’s name.

You are allowed to cry.

You are allowed to talk about what happened.

You are allowed to celebrate their birthday, due date, angelversary or any day that carries meaning for you.

Your grief is not something you need to apologize for. 🤍

10/16/2026

Today, in honor of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day,

I'm lighting a candle in memory of my daughter Angela and for all those babies gone too soon.
Let's "say their names" in the comments below: share the name(s) of the little one(s) you are missing today.

10/07/2026

Hosting this event this Sunday

Please share the names of your babies in heaven in the comments! We want to hear their names, hear their stories, and remember with you!

¡Por favor, compartan los nombres de sus bebés que están en el cielo en los comentarios! ¡Queremos conocer sus nombres, escuchar sus historias y recordarlos junto a ustedes!

10/03/2026

Angela’s Legacy of Hope would like to invite you to this event to honor your baby gone too soon.

Please find the information here.

Say their name

I hope to see you there.

10/02/2026

Halfway through her pregnancy, a young mother learned the baby boy growing inside her would not survive outside her womb.

She carried him for another four months knowing that for as long as he remained inside her, she could keep him safe.

Peter James Raridon was born September 11th.

His mom Anna and dad Eli, a rookie tight end for the New England Patriots, learned during their 20-week anatomy scan that Peter had anencephaly, a fatal condition affecting development of the brain and skull.

Instead of preparing to bring their first baby home, they spent the remainder of the pregnancy loving him while knowing their time together would likely be painfully short.

Anna says she is grateful she got to love Peter, protect him and be his home for nine months.

Then she wrote the words that absolutely broke my heart:

“I have loved you every second of your life & will miss you every second of mine.”

Anna and Eli are leaning heavily on their faith, believing their son’s life had meaning regardless of how brief it was and that their goodbye is not forever.

One of the images they shared shows Peter’s tiny footprints inside a Bible. 🕊️

A reminder that this little boy was here, he was deeply loved, and he will always be their son.

Please pray for these young parents and for every mother and father who understands the heartbreak of loving a baby they never got to bring home.

10/01/2026

“El esplendor de la rosa y la blancura del lirio no roban a la pequeña violeta su olor ni a la margarita su simple encanto. Si cada pequeña flor quisiera ser una rosa, la primavera perdería su belleza ".

- Santa Teresa de Lisieux

09/24/2026

Baby Savannah 💜

WARNING!! Long read! If you get to the end...you're a real one!

8 years. 3 hours. 51 mintues.
But who's counting?
Grief is without a doubt one of the most complicated things a human can go through. When I lost Savannah, I thought I would be sad forever. Then I found myself grieving at the fact that I didnt think I was grieving the right way because there were days where I didn't feel the sadness of her absence. Then there was the time it dawned on me HARD that she had been gone far longer than she got to be here. That one hurt. A lot.
There are days where the thought of her makes me smile from ear to ear. There are days where I'm angry because she's not here to share moments with us. There are times where I know she met her purpose here on Earth and the work was done. But then...I'm irritated because I dont understand why it couldnt have taken her just a little bit longer. So she could stay. Just a little bit longer.
There's sadness around all the things I feel like she has missed. So many people who have come into my life that I love and I find myself feeling so limited on what I'm able to share with them in regard to her. Not because there's anything that needs to stay hidden, but because there's only 2.5 years to share. But then there's the math that comes along with grief. Time they were here, minus how long they've been gone, minus the amount of memories grief was willing to let you hold onto, minus the natural progression of memory loss as time passes, and then that equals the amount of "stories" you're able to tell. Spoiler alert...it's not much. Not when it was only 2.5 years.
That time with Savannah was majestic. Quick. Painful. Rewarding. Jam packed with a never ending amount of fierce love. After 8 years though...sometimes that thought is just something that I know to be true and not necessarily something that I can always backup with a bunch of stories and memories. And that makes me sad. When you realize all the pictures you have are all that you'll ever see...that's hard. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing ANY pictures or videos of her! Any piece of artwork or even paperwork! But that doesn't mean I don't notice that the pictures are always ones I have seen a million times and I'm always secretly hoping to stumble upon one that I haven't seen before or that maybe I haven't seen it in so many years that it feels new to my brain.
This day used to feel so sad, so heavy. It doesn't feel that way anymore. Which is great. I never want sadness or anger to wrap itself around her name. But oddly enough, there is sadness around no longer feeling sadness. Make sense?! If I don't feel sad that she's gone, am I not honoring her enough? Am I not talking about her enough? Am I just used to her not being here? Have I grown accustomed to an immense amount of sadness, a pain that I used to find so significant that I thought it was going to kill me...is that now my baseline? Am I immune to pain of that level? Does this mean that she's become less important to me?
The list I create in the depths of that rabbit hole could go on for miles.
But when I crawl out of it and I'm covered in the thoughts that will never serve me, tattered and emotionally bruised... I think this...
I am not grieving the wrong way. I'm doing it exactly the way I was meant to. She will probably always be an occasional topic in therapy, a good cry on a fast pace day, a song that comes on and punches my heart right in it's face. I will always miss her. I will always grieve her. In one way or another, loud or quiet, alone or in good company...I will grieve her every single day. I will carry that grief until my dying day and not until I'm with her again will I get to put that bag down. And I'm ok with that. I know that I'm able to now. In the beginning, not so much! I knew that I had to carry that bag around and it felt like a weight. A weight I would never be strong enough to carry. But I know I'm strong enough and I carry the bag in honor of her. And I'm proud to carry it.
Most days I'm great. Some days the bag feels heavier than others and sometimes feels like I'm going to drop it. But I've got great family and friends who are always there to put a hand underneath it and make it feel just a little bit lighter. And we all keep moving forward.
I know I'm not the only one who misses her, who loves her deeply, who wish she was still here. The people I love, who never got to meet her, I do my absolute best to tell them everything I remember, show them every picture or video that I stumble across, and point out every location we drive by where her presence hopefully still lingers. I made her a promise that I would never turn away from. The promise to tell the world about her. That for as long as I live, I would speak her name, keep her safe, teach her lessons to others, spread awareness, spread kindness, and through her memories, spread joy. I have yet to fail her. That much I know.

Happy 8th year in Heaven, my sweet love. We miss you, we love you more, and we'll always save a space for you.

Mom

09/12/2026

The sight of a tiny casket is one of the most profound and heartbreaking realities a parent can ever face. It is a weight no family should have to carry, especially when the little life inside it was loved so deeply.

Today, we honor sweet baby Maristella, who lived 13 precious days on this earth.
Thirteen days may sound so short, but in those 13 days, she was surrounded by something immeasurable: agape love.
She was held, cherished, prayed for, and loved deeply by her family and by everyone blessed to know her story.

As Catholics, we believe that every human life is a precious gift from God. Maristella’s life was not too short to have meaning. Her life was a beautiful gift, entrusted to her family for a sacred season. Though her earthly journey was only 13 days, the love she gave and received will continue far beyond those days.
I feel incredibly blessed and humbled that God allowed me to be part of Maristella’s story and to walk alongside her family during such a sacred and painful time.
There are moments in this work when you realize you are not simply supporting a family, you are being invited into a holy space where love, faith, grief, and God’s presence meet.

A sacred moment when heaven meets earth.

This is why Angela’s Legacy of Hope exists.
Because no family should have to face a life-limiting diagnosis, the loss of a baby, or the days after a child’s death feeling alone.

Because every baby deserves to be known by name, loved, held, remembered, and honored.

Because sometimes our calling is born from our deepest pain, and God can transform that pain into a mission of love and hope for others.

Maristella, your life mattered.

Your 13 days mattered.
Your name matters.
Your story matters.
And the love surrounding you will never end.

May the Blessed Mother, who knew the agony of watching her beloved Son Jesus suffer and die, wrap her mantle around your family and accompany them through this valley of grief.

May Jesus welcome sweet Maristella into the fullness of eternal life, where there is no suffering, no pain, and no goodbye, only the eternal love of God.

Until we meet again, precious Maristella.

Loved for 13 days.
Loved for a lifetime.
Loved for eternity.

Angela’s Legacy of Hope - honoring every life, no matter how brief, and walking with families through diagnosis, loss, grief, and hope.

Baby Saint, Maristella, pray for us!
Baby Saint Angela, pray for us!

06/27/2026

Angela’s Legacy of Hope is currently supporting two families who received a prenatal life limiting diagnosis for their unborn baby.

Angela’s Legacy of Hope is hosting Celebration of Life events to shower them with love and prayers as they continue to embrace this painful journey.

Please join to support this mission, every donation helps. Also, we have some volunteer opportunities, please reach out if you are interested in learning more.

A Shower of Hope is a special gathering created for families who have received the heartbreaking news that their baby is expected to pass away before or…

06/02/2026