I get it. It’s confusing when you see posts celebrating the heavenly birthdays of babies born that we lost.
You think we’re living in the past.
You think we’re trapped by sadness.
I get that we don’t celebrate Christmases with them and you don’t see us in pictures doing normal family things.
So, you wonder and inappropriately say out loud, “It’s just weird to me that four years later, she’s still remembering that day.”
But if we can celebrate the birthdays of Lucille Ball and Elvis Presley, along with other famous and loved ones lost, why are our babies any different?
“How will you explain this to your son?” is a real question I was asked.
The answer is this: The exact same way I will explain death to my son, an unavoidable, and unavoidably sad part of life.
I will explain the loss of his sister to him the same way I will explain all these delicate pieces of life to him – with a lot of following my heart and with God.
“But, won’t he be tainted with this tragedy at too early of an age?”
Unfortunately, we don’t get to decide when grief hits us, only that it most certainly will.
In raising my tiny human, I will use his sister’s story to teach him lessons of finding joy, amid grief, and of resilience.
I will tell him how exactly we “pushed play” every day, from the day we lost her until today.
And, in our commitment to live out hope and our future, this means we accept and embrace the fact we will bump up against hallmarks and holidays.
But, instead of feeling sad for what we lost, we will celebrate what we had.
It won’t be “weird” when we celebrate her heavenly Sweet 16 — it will be sweet.
Because I will be demonstrating a very critical life lesson to my son, while also offering remembrance to a very special human that was once, and always will be, a very special part of us, our story and our family.