This morning I saw the sunrise and it brought me back to that first morning with you- March 9th, 2021. I held your tiny lifeless body in our quiet hospital room as the sun rose outside the window. I sat there with a strange calmness before a tsunami of grief. Just me and you and the sunrise while your Daddy was resting. These were some of the last moments before we said goodbye and let them take you.
Today, it’s your birthday. March 8th, 2026 and my glimpse of the sunrise was filled with trying to rock your little sister back to sleep (thank you daylight savings) and taking out some trash through the backyard. Not much time to sit and reflect… but for a moment I was right back in that hospital room with you.
It’s your fifth Birthday in the stars. Five whole years. It feels like another lifetime and at the same time I don’t know how we made it this far. Each of your previous birthdays in the stars have been gloomy and cold. Today it is finally sunny and warm, and it feels fitting for this milestone birthday. I’m so thankful for the sun today! Although your garden has yet to be planted, I do spy some little pink flowers blooming both in the small pot at the base of your flower bed and on our Amelia Rose Azaleas. It feels like you are here to say hello and that everything is okay wherever you are.

Five. What would it be like to have a five year old? I often see the girls you would’ve been friends with and it’s so hard to imagine you with them. What I do know is that we see bits of you in both your brother and sister. Without even knowing exactly which parts are just like you, we know they are there. And I feel so lucky to know this.
This morning we focused on family. We spent time at a new-to-us playground that your brother just absolutely loved. I climbed up into this giant structure, lifting him up and nudging him along the entire way because, at three, this place was a bit out of his league. I imagine if you were here, at five, you would’ve scaled this place and maybe you’d be the one nudging him up to the tallest parts. For a moment I could imagine seeing you at the top waving down to me saying “mom, watch me!” And as your Daddy helped him across the zip line I imagined you zipping right across, all on your own and so proud. It would be so lovely to have you here. To have the privilege of watching you grow. Instead, I will imagine you in these moments.
This afternoon we did what we always do. We sent a balloon full of messages to you! Olivia is too little to understand much more than the fact that there’s a balloon to play with. And Benjamin found it difficult to understand why his big sister is in the stars, but loved that you share the same last name. For the first time I could see how this tradition will have a profound impact on who your brother and sister become as they grow up. In five years this tradition has evolved with our family. I can imagine the evolution of the next five years and beyond as they truly learn the meaning of March 8th.

My hope is that they grow up with an understanding and empathy for this type of loss that so many families face. An understanding that nobody is immune to tragedy and each precious day with those we love is an absolute gift. I hope you have an impact on who they become like you have had an impact on me. I’m a better person because of you. I believe they will be better because of you, too.





I had too much trust in your brother to hold the string of the balloon before letting it go, but the quickness of his release left me giggling while we watched your balloon go up and up and up into a crystal clear sky. This was the first year we could watch it for more than five minutes and still see it. What a cool thing to witness!

After the balloon launch, we added a new tradition- singing happy birthday with some cake! We found some beautiful floral cupcakes and sang to you like we would if you were here.


Happy 5th birthday in the stars, Amelia. We hope you are able to feel a fraction of the love we have for you on this day and every day. We love you so much. Forever and ever.
