Lana Lowe

There won’t be a day that goes by for the rest of my life that I won’t remember my baby girl. From the very beginning, she filled our home with laughter, warmth, and a kind of love that can only come from a child who feels completely safe and cherished.

Every morning, Lana greeted the day with excitement. It didn’t matter whether it was Mommy or Daddy who walked into her room, she would stand up in her crib, stretch her arms as wide as she could, and wait to be scooped up. If her big sister, Meadow, was home, she would burst into the room announcing, “Hello Lana!” like a morning news anchor. Meadow knew she needed to be loud because Lana couldn’t hear very well, and that only added to the enthusiasm and love between them.

Lana was incredibly affectionate. She gave the biggest bear hugs every single day, and I always tried to pause, even briefly, to soak them in before diaper changes. Sometimes she would protest diaper time by pulling me in for another hug, or on playful mornings, she would toss all her diapers on the floor just to see my reaction. She knew exactly what she was doing, flashing that mischievous smile that melted my heart every time.

She loved being held. During maternity leave, we spent countless hours cuddled together after nursing, watching Friends and The Big Bang Theory. I remember intentionally telling myself to savor those moments, knowing she would be our last baby. She loved cuddles with Daddy just as much. Though, with him, cuddles often turned into rough housing. She adored being tossed onto the bed, taking turns with Meadow. If Daddy took too long, she’d dramatically fall backward onto the pillows herself. Lana also loved her ‘Super Simple Songs’ and somehow learned to work the remote. If Daddy stood in her way, she’d peer around him as if to say, “Move, Daddy.”

Lana was full of personality and curiosity. She explored every cabinet she could reach, climbed onto furniture with a grin, and laughed when she knew she was pushing boundaries. When I told her “na ah,” she would smile, lift her leg like she was about to climb anyway, then laugh and reach for me. She had an arm on her and could throw. I always thought she might be our sporty girl.

Mealtimes were another joy. When Daddy was home, Lana insisted on sitting in his lap and eating from his plate often resulting in a second dinner. She also made sure to drop food for our two Labrador pups, who loved her dearly and still miss her sweet pats.

Bedtime was sacred. I would read to her while she drank her milk, and as she grew, she became more involved, pointing at pictures and feeling sensory books with her long fingers. I used to think she might become a piano player like me. After reading, I sang three songs every night: ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, ‘Twinkle Twinkle Unicorn’, and the ‘I Love You’ song. Sometimes she laid on me; sometimes she looked straight into my eyes, smiling. My favorite part was when she grabbed my face and gave me the biggest kiss. Before bed, I always checked on both girls and prayed for their health, strength, protection, and kindness.

On Lana’s last day with us, she wasn’t feeling well and had only a mild fever. I picked her up early from daycare, let her rest, kept her close, and we FaceTimed with Daddy. That evening, on her own and for the first time, she looked at me and said, “Mama, I love you.” We hugged, read Never Pop a Unicorn, and followed our usual bedtime routine. I didn’t know it would be her last bath, our last book, or our last goodnight. But I’m so grateful it was filled with love.

The next morning, I found Lana after she had passed away peacefully in her sleep while we were all sleeping. The pain of that moment is beyond words, the most excruciating pain I have ever known. Later, we learned from her final report that Lana passed away from aseptic meningitis, a viral form of meningitis, not the more commonly known bacterial type. Her pediatrician shared that she had never had a patient pass from aseptic meningitis and could not explain why Lana’s body shut down. Her passing was sudden. We have answers, yet so many unanswered questions.

Just days before, we celebrated Easter. Lana was happy and thriving, enjoying her very first Easter egg hunt. I still held her hand as she walked, since she was just beginning to take steps on her own. I never imagined it would be her last Easter, or that she would never get the chance to walk or run freely.

Lana was named after Lana Lang from Smallville, who once said, “Life is about change. Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes it’s beautiful, but most of the time it’s both.” That quote now carries a deeper meaning. It is beautiful to have faith and know Lana is in Heaven, and unbearably painful that she is not here with us. I miss her more than words can describe.

My family, friends, and faith have carried me through the darkest moments. A dear friend brought white roses the day we lost Lana and later shared a song, ‘If I Die Young’ by The Band Perry. When I finally listened, it felt like Lana speaking to me, reminding me that although her time here was far too short for us, it was exactly as God intended.

Lana’s life, though brief, was full, meaningful, and deeply loved. She will forever be our sunshine, our joy, our Sweet Potato and our baby girl.