Happy 10th birthday, Noah!

 Dear Noah,

Happy 10th birthday, my love! A decade. I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about this milestone. Life has been so busy lately that it has kept me from really thinking about it which is probably a good thing, because it is a little hard to swallow. But, being a mom is one of my favorite parts about my life, and it started with you all those years ago. YOU made me a mom first, and I will always be grateful for you no matter what.

Wow, life sure is different 10 years in. I remember those early days of going to grief groups, and seeing other parents that have lost children who were 10 years in. They seemed to have it together, and it gave me hope. I don’t like to use the word “acceptance,” as in what they refer to in that last stage of grief. I will never accept that you are gone. I suppose I am just used to it. I understand where and how you exist in my life now, and though it isn’t what I choose, it’s what I make of it, and I feel you there in your own quiet way each day.

We are two peas in a pod. Our life goals were very tied, weren’t they? A yin and a yang. You lived and died in such a specific way that highlighted ways in which we all need to do better. Then, it was my turn to jump in and make the changes that needed to be made – to tell your story again and again to the right people to encourage change. We’ve changed three laws now, and helped with a few others. There’s more on the horizon, and I intend to be there to help and spread your legacy that much farther. Other babies live thanks to you. Other moms and dads get to fight the good fight to keep their sick kids healthy – something I would have given anything to do for you. I wish that our story could have turned out different – that we could have just been ignorant to all of this, and just been an ordinary son and mom, but those weren’t our choices.

If this is the way life has to be, thanks for sending me on all of the adventures. I have stopped and pinched myself when standing in Washington D.C., getting ready to speak in-person to people I have only ever seen on the news, and known that I was there because of you. What a network of incredible people I have met along the way that give me so much faith in the good in this world.

10 years in, life is full with our family. After we lost you, I kept asking the question “what now?” How on earth do you rebuild your life after losing a child? How could we possibly dream a better dream than the one that brought us you? A few months in, the answer was clear. We needed Aaron. We cleared our lives, preparing to be parents, and not having a kiddo after all of that was just so empty. He has been a blessing (understatement), and given us a strong path forward. Katie too, when she came a few years later. Filling our days being carpe diem with them, not taking a second of their lives for granted is very rewarding. I do look at our family out doing fun things and imagine in my mind what it would have been like to have all three of you there. You and Aaron would be close in age, and seeing two little brown haired boys exploring something in life together, with a little sister in the middle, wanting a piece of whatever her big brothers were doing would have been something to see. I know you are still there in your own way.

It's interesting how our grief has changed over the years. What felt comforting in the beginning, we no longer need, and other traditions take their place. For example, where I depended on the wisdom and understanding found in grief groups at first, now I feel like I know and am comfortable with what’s “normal” in the abnormal world of living beyond your children. I don’t need permission to recognize you in my life. We’ve been doing it for so many years now that it no longer feels weird. Though we’ve let go of those comforts we needed at first, it doesn’t mean that we’ve forgotten you in the slightest. I know you want us to go on and live our lives and be happy, and we are doing our best to do just that.

I love you. I am thankful for all the ways you have helped us get through these last 10 years. I hope we have made you proud. Thanks for ALWAYS being there for us in ways that we can see and not see. Happy 10 years to my sweet son! We think of you daily and miss you lots.

Love,
Mom