Dear Simon,

Dear Simon,

It has been six months. Six whole months. How can it be so? I expected to live my lifetime with you, I expected to be a witness of every minute of your life, instead I live every moment thinking about you. Thinking about who you would have been and what you would have become. Thinking about your eye color.  Your hair color. The sound of your giggle. Thinking about what traits you would share with your big brother and your differences. Nolan started crawling at 6 months. Would you have been as active? Would you have been cuddly? Would you have liked sports? Music? Theater? Would you have liked to read book after book after book like your brother? Simon, I want you to know how much I love you. I want you to know that we will never move on without you. We will take you and the memory of you with us wherever we go.  There are people that don’t understand us and think that we should just “be over it.” Let me tell you this, they clearly have not lost a child. They have not lost their future. They have not lost a piece of their entire life’s puzzle that will always remain empty. You don’t get over this. You don’t get over the death of your child. Dear Simon, I will never be over you.

It kills me that you are not here with us. I am so sorry. I am so sorry you never got to meet your brother. I am so sorry you never got to meet your grandpa.  I am so sorry you never got to meet your aunts, uncles, and cousins. There are so many other people that were excited about your arrival and I’m so sorry you didn’t get the chance to meet them either. I am so sorry it happened this way.  I will never understand why. Believe me when I say, we did everything we could do to get your here safely. Oh Simon, I am so sorry.

I want to thank you for teaching me things that I didn’t even know I needed to learn. You have taught me that if it won’t matter in 5 years, it sure as hell doesn’t matter now. Like folding laundry.  Folding laundry is a waste of time. Clothes can fit in the drawers unfolded just fine. You have taught me that spending my Sunday mornings at the grocery store is not worth it. There’s an app for that. Yeah, it costs a bit more money, but my sanity and my need for fresh air and trees is more important. You have taught me to do everything I can to live in the present moment. This is NOT easy for me, but I’m trying. You have taught me to be more kind and gentle to myself. Today I called in sick. I went and sweat my ass off at hot yoga.  I got a pedicure. I sat outside enjoying fresh air at the coffee shop. If we could only win the lottery, we could spend everyday doing just this. You have taught me that I married the perfect man for me.  He doesn’t want to be strong everyday, but he is. He cares so much for Nolan and I, and sometimes I just don’t know how he does it. He loves you so much too and misses you more than you will ever know. You have taught me that it is about time I find myself. It is time for me to live my life. You have taught me the value of alone time as I now cherish those small moments I have to myself. You have showed me that some of my relationships weren’t as strong as I thought they were. And at the same time, over and over, you have showed me which relationships are worth holding on to. You have taught me how much I crave talking. You have taught me that I may actually know how to write and am grateful for these opportunities to set my thoughts free, especially when I just can’t talk. You have taught me to advocate for myself. I used to struggle saying no.  Now, it’s easy. Sick day, sure. Party, no thanks. Baby shower, nope. There is enough guilt in this world and enough guilt on my plate that I am done adding more if possible. I know myself better than I ever knew myself before and for that, I am thankful. You have taught me that my first instinct is to “flight” when I always thought it would be “fight.” I know that I still have so much more to learn, and I thank you for continuing to teach me in little ways.

Simon, one day we will make a plan to move forward.  One day we will hope for another child. Please don’t worry, this child will not replace you. We hope that you are on our side and help us in anyway possible. We will tell them all about their perfect big brother.  They will know all about your smile and the many people that you have helped smile.  I couldn’t wait for you, I couldn’t wait for a son named Simon, so don’t worry, your name will forever be spoken daily.

I look for you everyday. I see you in the sunrise.  I see you in the sunset. I see you in the occasional rainbow.  I see you in the kindness of people. I see you in other people’s smiles. And most of all, I see you in the sunbeams. Everyday I look for you.  I can’t wait to see you everday.

I love you Simon. I will love you always and always.




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