Dear Andy,
I haven’t written a birthday letter to you for the past few years. I tried, but the words didn’t come easily. Today, on your 15th birthday, I thought I would try again.
I’m supposed to be working now, returning to the daily grind after a two-week winter holiday. It’s the last day of vacation for your little sister and brother, though Lucy has color guard practice and Will is busy playing outside with our neighbors. I’m sitting here with my laptop, thinking of how different today would have been if you were still here too.
We went to your garden today before Lucy’s practice started. Like always, your siblings blew bubbles to you, but no dragonflies came to visit us. It’s a cold day for Florida. It must have been chilly the day you were born as well, but I don’t remember the weather. I do remember how scared I was, waiting in pre-op for my c-section. The surgery was delayed for hours, and I was alone with my thoughts. I could not wait to meet you. I didn’t want my fear of surgery to overshadow the excitement of seeing your face. I just wanted it to be over and for you to be in my arms.
And soon you were. On January 8, 2009, at 11:52 AM, you arrived Earthside. You were 9 pounds, 14 ounces, and the nurses in the operating room called you “Mr. Big.” You were perfect. I held you against me and kissed your sweet face for the first time. Then Daddy scooped you up just as I got sick – not the best welcome to the world, I admit. It had only been minutes since you were born, and you already were teaching us lessons about how life can be simultaneously amazing and terrible.
I had an allergic reaction to the spinal anesthesia I was given, causing my body temperature to drop. I remember being so grateful that you were healthy, while terrified of what was happening to me. Thankfully, I was quickly stabilized, and together we went to our hospital room to meet Grandpa and Gigi.
You were so alert and strong, lifting your head the first time that your grandfather held you. I could not stop marveling at you – how sweet you were, how smart you were, who you looked like, how lucky I was that you were mine. Your daddy could not stop taking pictures. Then he snuggled us in the hospital bed, surrounding us with his love and protection. In that moment, our little family was all I needed, and all was right in the world.
The day you were born was life-altering. I thought I knew love before, but it was nothing compared to my feelings for you. I was – and I remain – so proud to be your mother.
I thought that I’d have a lifetime to experience with you, my firstborn son. First words, first steps, first adventures. I had so many dreams of the boy you would be and the life you would have. I thought I would have the privilege of watching you grow. I was naive, I know. I imagined so many scenarios, but never one in which I would have to let you go so soon.
The only birthday we had with you was the day you were born. Since then, January 8th is a bittersweet day for us. While your birthday is a day of celebration, it’s also one of reflection.
I can’t help but wonder what you would look like now as a teenager and who you would be. Would your eyes have stayed blue, or would they have turned to hazel like your sister’s? Would your hair still be curly? Would you love playing video games like your dad and brother or would you be a reader like me? What would your freshman year of high school be like? Would you be a class clown, or would you be shy?
Someday, I pray that I’ll meet you again at heaven’s gates and that I will finally get to hold you again. That I’ll get the answers to these questions. That my heart will once again be whole. Until then, I’ll share your story with your little sister, your little brother, and anyone else who will listen. I’ll keep looking for the dragonflies and learning lessons from you. You changed my life with your birth 15 years ago, and your legacy changed the world.
Happy 15th birthday in heaven, my angel. I miss you every day. I will love you forever and always.
Love,
Mommy
