A letter to My Son

Dear Brady,

It has been 4 years since you were born. You were the son we knew only through your kicks and rolls and ultrasound waves, and through the two Polaroid pictures we have of your gorgeous little face. But you have had such an impact on my life. It often feels socially unacceptable or awkward for me to talk about you, which makes me sad. So, on your birthday – its about you, whether I make people uncomfortable or not.

4 years ago, the rug was pulled out from under us. Losing you was tragic. The grief has gotten easier – people always say time has a way of healing, and it is true. But time doesn’t make me forget. I’ve had the great fortune of meeting some tremendous parents over the years, all who have angels like you – and what I have learned is that you never forget.

Today is a day to tell you that I think about you every day. Honestly, I do. Whether it’s when I look into your sisters eyes and think that you guys look alike…or when I see a kid around your age and am amazed how big you would be…or when I see Brooke looking at the ceiling and wonder if you are here watching over us…or when I wish I had a son in the house to play with his beautiful sisters.

You taught me a lot though, and some day Reilly and Brooke will have you to thank you for that. You taught me how to be a better parent – one that I couldn’t have been without being your mom. You gave me patience, perspective, appreciation and the ability to live in the moment. That is worth repeating. Patience. Perspective. Appreciation. Live in the Moment.

You also made me strong and showed me what a bond your daddy and I have.

I remember my pregnancy with you like it was yesterday, the excitement of finding out we were expecting…the way your daddy cried the first time we heard your heartbeat…the first time your daddy felt you kick…the moments you and I shared alone together…the names we picked out for you…watching daddy paint the nursery yellow (Reilly’s favorite color)…putting together your stroller…washing your clothes…walking to start labor…the last time I felt you move…the pain of being told by the doctor that you were dead….36 hours of labor…and letting your ashes go. What a range of emotions.

I wish you were here to celebrate your birthday with us. But, I can honestly say…if I had the choice to have never had you as part of my life…I wouldn’t choose that. Whether you are in my arms or not, you are in my heart, and you are forever my little boy.

I love you,
Mommy




Two stories about Brady: 1 and 2