









Our Story
Our story is one of profound love, loss, and an unwavering belief in the power of hope. It’s far too long to fully capture in this small space, but I’ll share what I can. After three years of heartache and longing, we finally saw those two pink lines on the test—proof that the child we had prayed for was on her way.
But the joy was quickly tempered by fear and uncertainty. As the pregnancy progressed, we learned that our precious baby had serious complications. The doctors gave us little hope, even suggesting we consider abortion. But deep down, we felt that this little miracle was meant to be ours—no matter how difficult the road ahead might be. We didn’t have the answers, but we trusted that there was a reason, even if we couldn’t understand it just yet.
On October 22, 2016, our sweet Harlow Jean Scott was born. Our miracle was here. But with her arrival came more challenges than we could have ever imagined. Harlow was diagnosed with lissencephaly, a rare condition where the brain doesn’t develop its normal folds, known as a “smooth brain.” Along with this came epilepsy, optic nerve hypoplasia, cerebral palsy, spasticity—and the list grew longer with each passing year.
We were told we were facing a road full of uncertainty, but we made a choice: we wouldn’t let fear or the weight of the diagnosis define her—or us. Every day became a journey of learning, adjusting, and finding joy in the moments we had.
As Harlow’s mama, I became her everything—her nurse, her voice, her advocate, her biggest cheerleader. I couldn’t work a full-time job anymore, but that didn’t matter. My heart and hands were full. I knew that in order to help my husband with the mounting medical bills, we needed to find a way to share our story, raise awareness, and keep hope alive. And so, Hope for Harlow was born.
For six beautiful years, that shop became a beacon of light—spreading Harlow’s journey, her courage, and our family’s unwavering belief in the power of hope. But then, on February 25, 2022, we faced the most devastating loss imaginable: Harlow passed away after a long and fierce battle with seizures.
I cannot even begin to describe the depth of that pain. It shattered me in ways I didn’t know were possible. I broke in a way I couldn’t fix, and everything that had once held meaning felt hollow. I had to close Hope for Harlow. It was too painful to continue, and in that moment, I couldn’t bear to keep going.
But over time, the grief, though still heavy, started to shift. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot—but in the quiet of that pain, I began to hear something else. I realized that I wasn’t finished. I wasn’t ready to let go of the people Harlow had touched, the hope she had inspired, or the legacy we had started together.
After much therapy, healing, and time spent simply surviving, I found the strength to begin again—this time, as Harlow’s legacy. It hasn’t been easy. The grief still lingers, a constant companion, but I have come to understand that Harlow’s journey wasn’t just hers—it was meant to be shared with the world. Her courage, her story, and the hope she embodied continue to live on, not just in my heart, but in the hearts of everyone who has walked alongside us.
This space, this shop, is now a place to honor her memory and share that hope with others who need it. Thank you for being here. For taking a moment to listen, to remember, and to keep Harlow’s light shining. Your support means everything to me, and I know that by keeping her legacy alive, we are carrying forward the hope she inspired in all of us.