A year of grief after the loss of our baby

There is just no way but through.

Over the past year we experienced all the “firsts” without William. Through this blog, we’ve touched upon some of them. They say it is the hardest year to get through. Of course, if you’ve been following our journey, you may have witnessed some of our experiences from intense pain and heartbreak to slowly finding joy again and healing. We are sort of astonished that it’s been one year without our little guy. We never thought this is where we could be.

In the beginning of this year, when we thought of William we usually imagine his cute little smirk. But there were also heart wrenchingly sharp images that made their way into our minds. We wish they didn’t. Watching our baby fight for his life, the look on the NICU resident’s face when we gave the OK to stop resuscitation. Handing our baby to the nurse and watching as she left with him in her arms, knowing we’d never see him again. They are seared into our minds. Even auditory triggers, the monitoring noises from the NICU when we were losing him. The long beep on his heart monitor that followed. The decisions we were faced with in the days after his death. The image of his little white coffin, the feel of it - covered in soft embossed felt - it is something we will never forget.

But we’ve found that if we push these sharp images to the back burner, there will be more room to remember him in all the beautiful ways in which he existed.  The feel of his head on our lips, the touch of his back, the clench of his hand around our index fingers, the way he would kick the moment we started reading to him in bed while pregnant. These are the memories we push to the front and try and focus on when remembering our sweet William.

Many friends and family have stuck by our sides this year. Some relationships have lifted us up in ways we never expected. Some of you simply have the capacity to deal with it. Call it courage, call it empathy - we call it love. We feel extremely lucky that you all have stuck with us and it is so heartwarming to hear that you have been strengthened through William’s story.

We have also turned to God this year. He’s the main reason we believe we’ve healed the way we have. Yes, we still have questions, but we are learning to focus not on those questions (why, why, why) - those are the questions that will only haunt us. We instead give it up to God. Even if we did know why, would it make us feel any better? Would it change the fact he died? We know he is with God and that brings us peace and comfort when sometimes nothing else can.

Over the past year we sold our house and moved closer to the city, setting off on a fresh start. We traveled too. All we wanted was to run away and we were set to make it happen. The more we tried to escape it all, the more we realized that grief follows you wherever you go. And comes back with a vengeance crashing over you like a wave. You cannot escape it. We found that out time and time again. No matter where we were, whether it be on a train, in a cafe, on our hotel's balcony, we could be swept up in tears anywhere.  We're learning to live with grief and even embrace it as it becomes a part of us.

We remember thinking, after a long trip to Europe, that maybe we’d come home and it would all be a dream, a nightmare we would wake from. The hospital would alert us they have William, safe and sound, there was some sort of confusion, they were terribly sorry, and we could pick him up. We’d strap the carseat in, go get him, and start our lives up again, the lives we should have had. Ridiculous, we know. That’s how this year felt sometimes. Totally, impossibly, unbelievable that he wasn’t living anymore. That we never got to bring him home. That his outfits remain unworn. His little feet never even touched the ground. Yesterday, we baked a birthday cake for our baby knowing he would never be able to sink his fingers in and make a complete mess.

Somehow we find solace by facing these truths and are discovering a newfound courage to accept them and move forward toward a bright future.

Over the past year we loved hard. Each other, our family, friends, especially our William. Without knowing what tragedies someone may be experiencing, we have tried to be kind to everyone we met and treat others as we wanted to be treated. We’ve noticed how much we have grown this year. In ways we feel ancient having experienced this loss we were never prepared for. We’ve also noticed a change in all of you. The way we are able to slip his name into conversation during family gatherings - it speaks volumes.  We were so afraid he wouldn’t be considered part of the family or that people would forget him. We know now this could never happen. You guys won’t let it. We want you to know that your thoughtful actions never go unnoticed. Thank you.

Happy 1st Birthday, William

Dearest William,

We would have given you the whole world. But instead you have the entire universe at your fingertips. How we wish we could come visit you in heaven, give you kisses and big hugs, play together, open presents and eat cake. We will someday be together, William. For now we feel your playful spirit soaring all around us. We’ll have cake down here and sing to you, our child. So many people who love you are also thinking of you today, you are so special to us and make us so happy. We love you very much.

Happy Birthday.

Love, 
Mommy and Daddy

Giving Thanks

This is technically William's second Thanksgiving. But his first in heaven.

This year we give thanks for our sweet William, he has enriched our lives and made us so happy.

Happy thanksgiving,

Liz and Tom

Halloween in Heaven

We woke up this morning like usual, thinking of William and wondering if someone up in heaven would dress him up for his first Halloween, whispering to whoever was listening to take photos.

This time last year, William was growing well as evidenced by my swelling belly. We'd sing to him, one of our favorite songs - this little light of mine - but instead of "light" we'd sub in the word "pumpkin". Amidst the news from the doctors that there could be something wrong with him, we were still optimistic everything would be OK. And so we dreamed of his first Halloween, dressing him up in costume, thanking our lucky stars that it all turned out OK. Those were the days.

We still dream about dressing up future kids and cannot wait till we have that opportunity.

For now we send all our love up to heaven and wish we could send his R2D2 onsie up there too.

Happy Halloween, little one. We love you, pumpkin!

Xoxoxoxo

A Candle for William

We love lighting candles for our William. It's a way to honor him and there's just something so comforting about having that small flickering of light in our home. It's a symbol of the heavenly presence that surrounds us whenever we think of our little guy.

Over the summer, we were given the opportunity to reserve a perpetual candle for William at our local shrine, Saint Anthony's. How exciting, a candle that is lit all day, every day! The candle is located next to the Mary, Mother of God statue in the chapel. We've found that visiting his candle is a nice way to check out of the bustle of daily life and check in to see how he's doing in a nice, peaceful, sacred place. There, we can also ask Mary to send our prayers to heaven through the perpetual burning of William's candle.

PRAYER TO

MARY, MOTHER OF GOD

   

Holy Mary Mother of God,

Never was it known that anyone 

who asked for your protection, 

implored your help,

 or sought your intercession

Was left unaided.

Inspired with this conconfidence,

I come to you,

O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother,

To you I come.

Before you I stand, sinful

and sorrowful.

O Mother of the Word Incarnate,

Be open to my petitions,

And, in your mercy, 

hear and answer me.

Amen

Visiting his candle really does light up our lives. If you visit the city, we'd love for you to stop by the shrine to see it. You'll find it in the top row, right in the middle above the kneeler.

xoxo,
Liz and Tom

Mary, Mother of God Shrine, Boston MA

“…The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. … 

Those who live in a dark land, the Light will shine on them.” 

-Isaiah 9:2

William's candle shines bright :)

William's Mementos

Along this road of life after loss, we've accumulated messages and gifts from family, friends, even people who we've never met but were moved by William's story. It's pretty amazing. Our goal this month is to revisit all the beautiful cards and small tokens that have brought us comfort over the year. They mean so much to us.

You may wonder how we are doing. And it's easy for us to say "OK" or even "good" because sometimes it's just easier than explaining how we really feel. Most of the time there aren't any words but something has to come out. As we come closer to William's 1st birthday/anniversary of his death we feel like we are where we should be. It's hard to say we feel good, because well... sometimes we don't. Some say that you never really get over losing a child, you just learn to live with the pain. We find this to be true so far. We miss him everyday. But he also brings us happiness everyday with his cute little grin :)

We are moving forward and it just seems like it's time to reflect and continue healing.

The most important message for this post is to THANK YOU for all the support.

A collection of mementos to remember William, some gifted, some bought, all with love. A football toy, handmade burp blankets, personalized candle, angel ornaments, jewelry, rainbow art, handmade star, and many more beautiful gifts! 

Autumn angel I bought and wanted to share!

A special gift from Aunt Anne & Alex on display in our favorite part of the house, the kitchen.

Originally a baby shower decoration, I always thought I'd have this "twinkle twinkle" print on display in his nursery. For now it brings a little sparkle to my nightstand.  

There's actually more gifts stored away or in use around the house.  His most precious items have been carefully placed in his memory box and some in his special basket. We're looking forward to sharing these most special items with you when the time is right. 

Hugs,

Liz and Tom

William's corner in heaven

We've been meaning to share this poem for a while. It's been on our fridge since the week we came home from the hospital. We were at out lowest during that time. The poem came enclosed in a beautiful card from a family member, one of the first cards we received. We had no idea how many cards would follow...

This poem has helped us imagine a happy William up there with other babies... an angel band. And it reminds us of how far we've come since leaving the hospital without him.

The poem reads:

To Mother and Father

(on the death of a child)

There's a corner up in Heaven

Where the little babies play,

And our Blessed Mother watches

All throughout the livelong day.

They're a happy lot, these babies,

Sure the reason's very plain;

For they've missed the world's contagion;

Came unscathed, without its pain.

'Tis an angel band, they call them.

And you both shall blessed be:

You're the parents of an angel,

Cause your baby's there you see.

Yes, and smiling down upon you

With an innocence sublime;

Waiting, watching for the parents

They will meet in time.

May you never be rebellious.

Rather looking to that Day --

When your little guardian angel,

Will come and lead you on the Way --

With faith that falters not,

Clasp each other's hand,

Pledge yourselves to meet your baby

In that better, Happy Land.

William in Mommy's arms

Yesterday, I took a lot of time to just be with myself and feel William's spirit. I took a long bike ride, listened to music, and I colored. It felt really nice being able to have some William time and express emotions in a different way.

While I was coloring, I took special attention when working on William's body. With each stroke I thought of the day he was born and how he laid just like that in my arms. It was the best feeling in the world. When I colored his hair, I remembered how the winter sun poured in through the hospital window and lit up his golden blond locks. I just kept kissing his head. I drank him in. The way he scrunched his nose and how even his eye brows were blond. Small patches of peach fuzz dotted his entire body, like on both sides of his back right below his shoulders. Our little lion cub. He had perfect feet with tiny little toe nails. And his hands, they were also the cutest tiny hands we had ever seen, his creases matched mine. I remember kissing his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

I used to think I may forget the way he looked to me. It really scared me. Yes, we had photos - that I'm hugely grateful for - but those were moments captured in time. I wanted to remember it all. The way he felt when I touched his skin, the warmth we shared, the way his baby scent made me drink him up, the weight of him, the way he melted our hearts. Now, I understand that I could never forget. These details are ingrained into my memory. 

So I'm sharing this beautiful image, a little tribute to me and my William, I'm happy that every time I think of him I smile. And I'm wishing everyone a nice day. 

xoxo, Liz

William in Mommy's Embrace

~ Thank you to Carly Marie for sketching this memory and sharing ~

Wave of Light

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.

After experiencing the neonatal death of our son, William, we were changed forever. We grieve hard but have faith that we will meet him again. Even so, our sadness is immense. What we've learned is that life goes on, as cruel as that sounds. And it pains us to know that we'll never kiss his sweet fuzzy head again, or dress him in a football outfit on Sunday, or snuggle him when winter comes - we'll never get the chance to photograph him at a pumpkin patch, or hold his little hand, or watch as he digs into his first birthday cake. With all those thoughts, we feel that he was robbed of a beautiful life.

We also have the happy memories and inspiration our little boy has given us - and that is pure love.

Some people think that infant death and stillborn death are to be kept silent. No one wants to go there. But it happens and it happened to us. For all those who have experienced a death of a baby, we wish you well and hope you find peace. And remember, it's OK to cry.

Tonight we joined others in a candle lighting ritual called the Wave Of Light.

Please join us in lighting a candle for William and all babies who left this world too soon.

xoxo
Liz and Tom

...one set of footprints

Do you all know this poem? My sister and bro-in-law have it displayed in their house. I read whenever I visit. It has never had such an inspirational impact on me as it does now and so I'd like to share.

FOOTPRINTS

One night a man had a dream.
He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD.
Scenes from his life flashed across the sky.
He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
one belonging to him and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life had flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand. 

He noticed that certain times of his life,

the saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it. 

"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,
 you'd walk with me all the way.
 I don't understand why, when I needed you most, you would leave me."

..."My precious child,
I love you and I would never leave you.
      During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only
                         one set of footprints in the sand...
... it was then that I carried you."

I refuse to believe that William's death had something to do with God's plan. I do believe he has a plan for him now. And I believe he has a plan for me and Tommy and our future. Sometimes I feel like God is placing me back down on the ground to walk on my own, but it's the most comforting thought to know I can lean on Him.

Peace, love, and faith,
Liz

This time last year

We just have to share more ultrasound photos of William. These photos were taken at a time when we discovered that something may be wrong with William. A turning point. Before this time we lived each week happily oblivious that something could ever go so wrong, we grew more and more confident that we were "out of the woods", odds were so low that anything bad could happen after 20 weeks.

Then our whole world turned upside down. We transferred to a high risk hospital and high risk specialists. We told our family.

We were still hopeful that everything may change, ultrasounds weren't 100% after all, maybe the next ultrasound would look better...

We like to think that these ultrasound photos represent how beautiful a growing life can be - how incredible that it unfolds for a little baby growing in the womb. We love looking at his scans and comparing them to his actual photos at birth. Every time we look, we see something new. 

With love,

Liz and Tom

3D scan of William with his hands over his face

He looks like he's sleeping in this one, cute little nose and lips and chin

5 little fingers up near his nose, his mouth is slightly open

Hand up by his head, his strong little heart can be seen in his chest, and his pudgy little belly underneath. A full bladder and cute little leg tucked in nice and cozy

Hope

Hope was a constant theme of our pregnancy with William. We always had hope. Even before we knew anything was wrong, we hoped for a normal pregnancy. Then at the first indication that something may be wrong, we hoped the doctors were mistaken. When we knew the doctors were probably right, we hoped he'd become better after birth.

We hoped our hearts out the day he was born.

Even hours later when William's doctor said, "It's come to that time..." - even when we knew he was dying we held onto it.

Hope did not vanish all at once. It lingered. I remember Tommy handing me our little guy and placing him on my chest. He wiggled and squirmed right into me. A nurse later told me that he looked content, like he was back where he felt most comfortable. Kate told me that he opened his eyes a bit :)

Were we in shock? Maybe. But we were still hoping that by some miracle of unwavering, parental love - a power only we could give him - he'd pull through.

It was in between that special time we had holding him that we loosened our grip on hope and let the grace of God shine down on us. It's hard to explain everything we felt. Loss for words, drained of energy, we sort of felt like everything was over; his struggle, our pregnancy, the waiting, the worry. But not everything was over - we know now that his life wasn't truly over, he lives on.

We poured all our love over him. He gave it right back. We believe this exchange of love is intertwined within every molecule of our body. We've never felt more connected with any other person. We are a trio.

Now, we hold onto a new hope. It's too scary to think we could lose another baby. So instead we will continue hoping for a healthy baby.

We'd like to share a little poem with you today and a photo of his perfect little foot.

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops - at all

                                      Emily Dickinson

William's little foot, the most perfect foot we've ever seen

Love to all,

Liz and Tom

A walk with William

It's been 9 months since William was born. It's also been 9 months since I kissed him goodbye. I feel like with all the sadness that comes with losing a baby, sometimes I have to remind myself of how much goodness he's spread and to celebrate that.

Today, while walking through the park, I came upon a street performer playing "Twinkle Twinkle" on accordion. This is not the first time one of William's songs played at the exact moment as I passed by. It's actually happened three times this summer. Once, outside of the subway a violinist played "Colors of the Wind" and I've heard "You are my Sunshine" on guitar in the same spot as today. We listened to these songs all the time when he was in my belly. I think he liked them.

Maybe the angels have brought these songs to me as a source of peace and comfort, another way to connect me with William. And that makes me happy.

As I walked on, I imagined him giggling at all the ducks and swans and squirrels. It made my day :)

xoxo
Liz

peaceful day in the park

angel sculpture in the public garden

9 months in heaven

There is a certain happiness that William gives us. It’s unlike any other happy feeling. We're glad to have this platform to share that happiness with you.

Happy 9 months, little boy! 

xoxo

Mommy and Daddy

Honored to be his parents

Loving him was the easiest thing we've ever done. 

Losing him was the hardest. 

But to have him part of our lives has been the single 

greatest privilege of all. 

We look at all the good that has come from William and his life and all it's done for us and we feel so honored to be his parents :)

Cherubs look after him

Four months after William died, we found ourselves in the Vatican surrounded by world treasures and some of the most exquisite paintings one would ever see. Rare pieces, like the two shared below, took our breath away. They are frescoes painted in 1480 by Melozzo da Forlì. The exhibition struck us because it pictured darling little angels praying over a small child with blonde hair :)

The art was titled simply as "a group of cherubs" - but to us, it meant so much more. They were a beautiful vision of what heaven felt like. Little baby bear, surrounded by light and love, being cared for by angels just like these, all snuggled up in the clouds.

To think that 500 years later, through wars and weather, after being torn from their original fresco wall, transported and restored, these painting would meet with the gaze of two grieving parents and speak to them like no other art ever could...

We hope you enjoy these paintings as much as we do and we look forward to sharing more of our favorites soon.

xoxo,
Liz and Tom

Love at first sight

We wanted to share his second ultrasound photos with you all, taken about this time last year. They bring us back to such happy times. Baby was growing well and there were no signs that anything was wrong. We were still on cloud nine.

It's nice to remember the good times.

xoxo,
Liz and Tom

perfect little arms and tiny little fingers

cute lil nose

you can see his leg and two lips in this shot

one of our favorite scans of William sleeping so peacefully :)

his hand giving a little fist bump

rolled over on his belly, face down, silly baby bear ;-)

Beach star for William

The infant loss online community has been a huge support for us. We've found quite a lot of comfort out there. It's there where we were able to acquire this stunning photo of William's name written in the sand at twilight. The artist, Carly Marie, is a mother of three, her first child, her first born son, died and her daughters live on with her and her husband. She has found healing in helping other parents through grief. After writing his name in the sand and saying a small prayer, she captured a beautiful photo right after the first star appeared in the sky. It makes us feel peaceful.

We love you, William - you make us so happy, our little star :)

The summer after William

This post is inspired by a women who documented every day in the month of July, dictating life as it happened, a genuine account of daily thoughts and actions. She called it “Letters to July”.

I thought I'd try it out, so here is my letter to my month of July, a rambling that I thought I’d share.

Dear July,

I love you, July. I don’t want to say “but” after that statement. But, there is. I hate that there is. I was expecting you to bring me incredible happiness, July. There were good times, don’t get me wrong. But a certain kind of happiness, well... it was simply impossible to experience.

We were going to start you off by watching the parade, stocking up on sunscreen, buying a tent for the beach. It was going to be just like last year - only THIS July, we’d have baby William. It was going to be his coming out month. Those golden curls. Everyone would just eat him up. We were suppose to be on the beach tip toeing in the water with him in our arms, holding on tight so he wouldn’t slip from all those soft baby jelly rolls.

He’d be 7 months old. We are accepting the fact he died, but it’s a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes we may just be kidding ourselves.

We’re finding comfort in your sunshine and warm breezes. But - there it is again - all those characteristics of yours, the sun and the warmth - they remind us of some alternate life, one where he survived, one that is perfectly amazing. One where he’d be riding with us through life in his green stroller sporting his little sunglasses. You were good to us, July. But it would be a totally different July if he was here.

I thank you, July. For all the summer days and memories made. We’ll see you next year. Hopefully we’ll have another, happy little reason to soak in your sun. 

xoxo

Our Sweet William

Sweet William is a cute nickname we call our baby but it is also a type of beautiful wild flower. We just love them. They are a biennial variety and bloom with clusters of white, pink, and purple blooms.

We were happy to offer sweet william seed packets to guests during William's memorial reception. If you could not attend and would like a packet, please comment below or email me and I'll send you one!

Mementos and basket of sweet william seeds on display for the memorial

• Simply sprinkle the seeds in a sunny spot, wildflowers are tough and adapt to different types of soil. 
• Sow shallow, compressing directly into bare soil, do not cover. 
• Water and keep soil moist until sprouts are 6-8" tall. After that, wildflowers prefer minimal care.
• Mow down in the fall with a mulch setting to disperse seeds.
• Be patient, sometimes sweet william wait till the second year to bloom but they are worth it!

colorful row of sweet william

We actually enjoyed these flowers even before William. They just popped up randomly in bunches in our yard every summer. We never knew what they were called until Kate suggested using them to decorate for the memorial service, since they shared the same name as babybear. They are extremely hardy, lasting long after being cut and put into a vase. You can also plant them in containers, see our mini garden featuring sweet william here. 

happy gardening :)

Learning more about William

We've had many meetings with doctors over the last year. With each one we learn a little more about our baby bear. Naturally, these meetings are pretty hard to get through. They are always located in the hospital, which can be a bit overwhelming in itself. But they can also be nice, something we actually look forward to. The sights, the sounds, the smell - they bring us back to the days we still had him.

The hospital is an overwhelming place but also a place that houses such incredible memories and a strong connection to him. We remain hopeful that one day we will be back in the same hospital giving birth to our second child, William’s spirit right there ready to meet his little brother or sister. It makes us so happy to think about that day.

Last month we had a pretty big meeting with his doctors. It's difficult to verbally express to people what happened, so we thought we'd share on the blog.

The meeting went well overall. We learned that William’s anemia was likely due to a form of ineffective erythropoiesis where William was able to make red blood cells but was unable to use them properly. We listened patiently as the doctors explained how all the clues and characteristics of William led them to believe he had a rare red cell disorder - one that doesn’t fit into any category they have seen before. There is probably a genetic cause linking it all together, either recessive and passed down or “de novo” and seen for the first time in William.

One specialist used the whiteboard to draw how William’s red cells appeared under the microscope compared to how normal red cells look. They answered all of our questions and showed us compassion and care. It was clear that everyone involved investigated his case vigorously with much effort. They shared the pain of losing him with us, expressed how sorry they felt, and that takes courage.

At the end of the meeting we were the last to leave the room. We walked out clutching onto each other, emotionally exhausted, and just cried right there in the middle of the hallway until we were ready to walk again.

Although we wish we had a clearer picture as to what happened and more importantly why, we consider ourselves lucky in a way to have known about him on another level, to know how special he was.

He continues to amaze us. 

We also consider ourselves lucky to have so many experts as part of our team. We trust them and most importantly, we realized that they are not giving up. 

One of the doctor’s wrote to us after the meeting saying what a privilege it was to be of help. And one of the doctor’s promised to follow up in the future. We may be able to enter one or more research pipelines where scientists will look again, and again, until they find more patients with similar phenotypes as William’s and then reevaluate his case to learn more.

One doctor who took care of William after he died, told us in 25 years she has never seen any baby as unique as our little guy. We’re not sure what to think about that - we just know how much we love him - how much happiness he’s given to us.

We are now waiting for more specialized testing. Odds aren’t great, but maybe we will find a clear cut origin of his anemia. Maybe not. We will update everyone when we know more, most likely late fall. For now we are enjoying summer as best as we can and wishing fall would get here faster.

Thank you so much for all your support and hugs and prayers!

We are happy to be visiting more with family this summer and moving through grief one day at a time - with all of you right there with us.

xoxo
Liz and Tom

Sweet Baby Angel

We'd like to share a remembrance poem for William that has brought us much comfort. We displayed this poem during William’s memorial reception but did not have time to read it aloud. It is a beautiful message that paints a picture of what heaven is like for our William. It's called Sweet Baby Angel.  We hope it brings you comfort as well.

Sweet Baby Angel

You’re dancing with the angels now our precious little boy...

The heavens are rejoicing and angels’ hearts are filled with joy...

One angel in particular... she has the kindest face

We see now she’s the angel in charge of Heaven’s Crèche

She takes you from the others and she sits you on her lap

And she sings to you a lullaby as you snuggle for a nap

She’s whispering so softly that it’s hard for us to hear

But if we listen carefully the words become quite clear...

She’s telling you we love you from the bottom of our hearts

That we’ve loved the very thought of you right from the very start

That we wish that we could cuddle you and never let you go

And cover you with kisses so that you would always know

How precious were those moments and how blessed we feel to be

The mommy and the daddy that you chose to come and see

She’s telling you how sad we are that you couldn’t stay and play

And that we understand how tired you were...

That you’ll play another day...

Another day you’ll see us... a lifetime we will wait...

Then you’ll be there to greet us just inside of Heaven’s gate

You’re smiling at the angel and you seem to understand 

And then we see you blow a kiss with your tiny little hand

We close our eyes to catch it... feel it land upon our cheek

And we thank you precious darling...

Sweet baby William... time to sleep xx

                                                                                       

© Written by: Sheila Knaggs

Aunt Anne sings for William

This post features a very special video of Somewhere Over The Rainbow, sung by William's Auntie Anne during the memorial service celebration.

William, did you know you have thirteen great-aunts? They all love you so much.

I grab hold of any connection I can to William, and I believe music is one connection. It moves you and pulls you into different emotions. It was hard in the beginning to listen to music, but we are starting again to discover the joy that music offers.

It makes me happy to think that maybe William listens to beautiful music too. Perhaps lullaby's like this one that you could listen over and over again. Thank you, Auntie Anne for your beautiful singing and Grandma Schneider for catching this on video!

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh why can't I?

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why, can't I?

Acts of Kindness for William

We feel that being kind is a simple but powerful way to honor our little boy. Acting kind to others and to ourselves is a way for us to stay positive while grieving. We like to call it “grieving in the light”. We invite you also to pledge to be kind, to give a bit of yourself away to someone else. It might be to love more. To tell your family member how much you love them. It could be a donation of some sort. It might be as simple as lending a helping hand to someone in need.

Showing compassion inspires others to do the same and so it creates a ripple effect. It would mean so much for you to keep William in your heart by thinking of him when you spread kindness.

The Random Acts of Kindness Foundation is dedicated to this exact cause. There, I found all kinds of ways to be kind :)

Please feel free to download and print random act of kindness cards by clicking here. You can carry these in your wallet. When opportunity strikes to perform a random act of kindness, you may leave a card behind in memory of William.

Kindness Ideas:

Tom and I are smiling more, going on walks, and eating healthy. We also paid for the person’s coffee behind us in the Dunkin Donuts drive through. And tip extra for hard workers. It feels really good to be kind. And it’s contagious. We’d love to hear your acts of kindness.

Go ahead and pay it forward!

Love is stronger than death

We love Pope Francis and would like to share some of his words below as they are comforting and relevant to us during this time.

"The loss of a son or daughter is like time stopping altogether:  it opens a chasm that swallows both past and future.  For parents, surviving their own children is particularly heartbreaking; it contradicts the fundamental nature of the very relationships that give meaning to the family.  Death touches us and when it is a child's, it touches us profoundly.   

Our loved ones are not lost in the darkness of nothing:  hope assures us that they are in the good and strong hands of God.  Love is stronger than death.  

Thus, the way is to let love grow, make it stronger, and love will guard us until the day that every tear shall be wiped away, when 'death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more' (Rev 21:4)...

All our loved ones who are gone, the Lord will give them back to us and we will be together with them forever."

~ Pope Francis (General Audience, St. Peter's Square, June 17, 2015)

Father's Day 2015

I don't know what William is thinking about today but I know he loves you, Tommy. 

His love for you is undeniable. 

He's walking right along side of you, looking up to you - I know it. Because you're his hero. You've held our family together and stayed strong even though your heart is broken. We love you :)

Happy Father's Day

Love, Mommy and William

William in daddy's arms

Lost love is still love... 

It just takes a different form, that's all. 

You can't hold their hand...

You can't tousle their hair...

Or move them around a dance floor. 

But when those senses weaken another heightens. 

Memory. 

Memory becomes your partner. 

You hold it. You dance with it.

Life has to end.. Love doesn't. 

                                                      -Mitch Albom

Happy Father's Day to all fathers who know the pain of losing a child, they are still fathers, the bravest of fathers. 

William Bear

Shortly after William died, desperate for something to help us feel better, we found Molly Bears online. Molly Bears is a company dedicated to providing teddy bears to families whose baby has died. Molly Bears was founded by a family who lost their sweet angel, Molly, at 34 weeks gestation. Molly Bears are special because they weigh exactly the same as your baby.

So we requested a bear and waited. The wait list is very long, like 3,000 bears long.

When we received our William bear last week, it was the first time we felt the weight of our baby since he died. It brought tears to our eyes. We love our William bear! We are very impressed with the quality and comfort our bear has given us already. And we think that William bear will bring happiness to our future children as well.

Every bear is handmade and personalized. For us, it was incredibly moving to know that someone out there wanted to give us support, wanted to fill our empty arms, and wanted us to remember.

Molly Bears staff volunteer their time to the making of the bears. If you are looking for a new way to give back, we urge you to please consider donating to Molly Bears.

We just donated in honor of William, you can too :)

xoxo,
Liz and Tom

This time last year

This time last year we found out we were pregnant. Our first baby! If you have ever been pregnant, you know how it feels. There's a common thread in the thoughts of the newly expecting, surprise most likely tops the list.

When we found out, we laughed and cried and hugged. I remember looking at myself in the mirror, jaw dropped, already noticing a difference. All the food cravings and fatigue I’d been experiencing the weeks before quickly made sense. 

It was the happiest day of our lives. 

Everything was going to change. But it was perfect and we felt on top of the world.

A week later, during the first ultrasound we held our breath. The sonographer warned us, “You may not be able to hear the heartbeat since it’s so early”. But sure enough right as the wand hit belly, we heard what would become our favorite sound. Whoosh whoosh whoosh. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

Here he is, one year ago, such a cute lil peanut with his arm buds already formed.

tiny little baby bear at 6 weeks

Letter to William

(William’s Special Day Part 10)

We ended the memorial service with a letter to our sweet angel.

Dear William,

On December 13, 2014 we met you - and it was the best day of our lives. You’re our everything. You filled us with more love we ever thought was possible. We are forever blessed to have gotten to hold you. We kissed your fuzzy blond head and we amazed by your beauty. We could have cuddled you forever. That is something that we struggle with, not being able to cuddle you. And all of those earthly hopes and dreams we had for us, well, they won’t unfold the way we imagined. But they will still unfold, just in a different,  special way. Your heavenly presence - which we feel all the time - will be with us as we live our lives.

We waited a long time for you, William.  When we found out you were a boy, mommy cried in the hallway of the hospital and we immediately knew what to call you.  We already had a name picked out.

We named you, William Patrick after your Daddy and your uncles. Along our journey together, we gave you nicknames like little peanut, baby bear, and our little star. We read to you and sang to you and our hearts grew larger every day because of you. We traveled with you and swam in the ocean and dreamed of our lives together.

Your kicks were so strong, William.  Your first kick was felt the first week of the football season while watching the patriots on TV.  We were so excited that you were already a fan and couldn't wait to take you to games.  You have more patriots onesies than any other kind.  We wish we could send them to heaven for you.

We saw your strength early on - from the first time we heard your heartbeat at just 6 weeks old. Your heart beat was perfect, our favorite sound. As the weeks went on we noticed that your heart kept beating strong but something was causing it to work harder than it needed - your heart was perfect, little one. But something - something we still don’t understand, something that we couldn’t have prevented, was taking place beyond our control. We know you tried your very best that’s why we call you our little warrior. William, we tried our best too, to solve the mystery. We are still trying. You’ve inspired many people, including your doctors who were amazed by your fight- and will not stop until we find some answers.

William, you have shaped us.  We love you so much.  You are our whole world.  We believe you are with God now and your great grandparents.  We believe you are happy.  But we miss you terribly and look for signs that you are around.  Thank you for all the signs you’ve already sent.

There has not been one single second of time when we wished we could forget what happened. All we want is to go back and relive it. You made us a family and you made us a mommy and a daddy. We are so proud of you little one.

As we count the days, the moments in life that we wish you were here, we also know that we are that much closer to meeting you again, our sweet angel.  We promise to lead our lives with peace and love, protecting each other, and living through your inspiration.  When we do go to heaven, the first thing we'll do is run to you.  For now we’ll hold you in our hearts, and find you in our dreams until we meet again in heaven.  

You are the first thing we think about when waking up.  And this, William, is an incredible gift because that means that every day starts in a wonderful way.  We start our day with you, our little piece of heaven.

Whenever we see sunbeams shining through the clouds we think of you. Whenever we see the stars we think of you. Our little star, we miss you so much. You made us so happy and we are so glad we had months of time to bond with you in my belly and were able to meet you. I wish I could give you a million kisses to tide you over until we meet again. For now, I’ll give Daddy kisses on his forehead for you. I first kissed you on your forehead. It was the best kiss of my life.

We love you, William, our beautiful baby boy.