family – Amelia's Floral Footprints

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.

A little over two weeks ago it was your birthday, again. Your third birthday among the stars. And we celebrated you the way we always do, by sending a balloon to you with our messages and lighting your birthday candle for some time afterward. This year our balloon temporarily became stuck inside a tree…which was a surprising turn of events… but in the end it all worked out and somehow as soon as we gave up and looked away it found its way out and on the way up to you! It made me laugh to think that all we had to do was look away after spending 10-15 minutes staring up at that big tree, willing your balloon to move without any luck. And while we would’ve loved to watch that balloon go up, up, up all the way to you- we know that sometimes things just go the way they are going to and this seemed to be the way this Birthday was supposed to go! It’s not always easy but we are learning to lean into moments like these that don’t work out quite as we had planned.

Three years. Three years to me feels like both a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once. How it’s been three years since we met you and said goodbye, I don’t understand. Our world was turned completely upside down three years ago and it seems almost unreal now that we are here, today. It’s becoming more difficult to imagine who you would be now… our three year old little girl. It’s more difficult to imagine what you would look like… what your personality would be. The gravity of our loss continues to impact us, but our life is in such a different place now than it was three years ago. Your Daddy and I are standing on solid ground once again with our loss and you weaved delicately into every fiber that makes us who we are. Every fiber that our family is built on and continues to build on, you are weaved within. While our family evolves and time heals some of our pain, your presence in our life remains.

I can still feel you in the warm sun on my skin and see you in the flowers that grow. I hear you in the wind chimes and birds chirping in the trees above. Although your new garden has yet to be planted, the Texas wildflowers have been in bloom for some time now and when I see them speckling the sides of the roads as I’m driving along I always smile and think of you. I always feel you near. The small bright pink flowers that seem to return each year in the pot next to your garden after completely dying off in the winter remind me that even when something is not physically visible here on Earth, it is still with us, just in a different way. Just like you.

On your third birthday, we wrote our messages and helped Benji and Daisy create messages of their own. We went to our usual spot in front of the house and set up a camera to take our photos and video. And while we were taking our photos a kind neighbor stopped his car to help us. He congratulated us at first, seeing the pink balloon. But he must’ve noticed the messages as he then asked what this was for. As we explained to him how we lost you and celebrate you every year, a familiar look came over his face. He shared that he, too, lost a daughter over 40 years ago. He shared that this type of loss never leaves a parent, something I am coming to realize to be true.

Sometimes the universe sends us little messages. I can’t help but wonder if this neighbor was placed there at the right time so that we could share a common connection and know that we are less alone in this world than it seems.

Once we realized your balloon had left the tree without us looking your Daddy and I laughed a little and we went inside for dinner. Before our night became business as usual with your little brother, we lit your birthday candle and had a moment, just the four of us, as a family. A moment I look forward to all year long.

We love you, Amelia, and look forward to seeing how you will weave into the fibers of this family for years to come. Happy Birthday!

Love, Mommy

Tag: family

Your 5th Birthday in the stars

Your 3rd Birthday among the stars