There are names you say casually.
And then there are names that live in your bones.
Our son, Emmett Leo, was born on May 19th 2023. He made me a mother. He made Danny a dad. He made our families bigger, louder, softer all at once.
And on July 22nd 2023, at just two months old, he gained his angel wings.
That sentence still doesn’t feel real to type.
Emmett was nicknamed “Da Nugz” and later emphasized as our Adventure Nugz, because from the very beginning, he felt like a little explorer. A tiny spark. The kind of baby who changes the entire trajectory of your life in 64 short days.
Two months is enough time to memorize someone forever.
Enough time to know the weight of him on your chest. Enough time to know which cry meant “I’m hungry” and which one meant “just hold me.” Enough time to plan an entire lifetime.
When Emmett died, we didn’t just lose our baby. We lost the future we had already pictured; first steps in our pasture, toddling around with our Pooter Pups on the farm, little muddy boots running through the homestead.
We lost the “normal” we thought we were promised.
And then we were handed a different path; Emmett’s true journey. One we never would have chosen, but one we now walk with purpose.
That’s where No Foot Too Small stepped in.
In the blur and chaos of a world that kept spinning when ours had stopped, they were there. Not with clichés. Not with empty platitudes. But with tangible love.
They made sure our son mattered.
They captured memories when we didn’t have the strength to think. They spoke his name. They treated him like the irreplaceable human he is, not a tragedy to be tiptoed around.
They reminded us that grief is not something to “move on” from. It’s something you carry.
No Foot Too Small didn’t just help us survive those early days. They helped us begin to heal. They connected us with other families who understood that loving a child who isn’t physically here anymore is still parenting.
We are raising money through Angels in the Outfield so other families, the ones who will join this club no one wants to be in, don’t have to walk it alone.
Because here’s the thing:
Loss parents will tell you we don’t need our babies remembered once a year, we need them remembered always.
Emmett’s life was short. But it was mighty. He made us braver. Softer. More intentional. He taught us that joy and devastation can exist in the same breath.
If you feel led to donate, know this:
You aren’t just giving money.
You’re giving a grieving mother the gift of hearing her baby’s name spoken.
You’re giving a father space to hold his child a little longer.
You’re giving families proof that their baby’s footprints — no matter how small — mattered.
And they still do.
Thank you for loving our Emmett Leo with us.
Thank you for helping us make sure no foot is ever too small to leave a mark.
— Krista & Danny