Dear Lucas and Caleb,
Well, boys, today is your First Birthday. I am sure you are surrounded in Heaven by your friends and lots of birthday cake. (Happy Birthday to your friend, Jacob, also) We miss you down here, and I hate that we're not getting you ready for your birthday party.
We have a lot of things planned in your memory today. I am excited to share pictures. That's right, I wrote excited. You see, the past week has been really hard building up to this day. But we have so many wonderful ways to celebrate your short little lives, that I feel some peace. I know that there will be tears today (they're trying to come out now), but there will also be some good memories made.
I can't believe it has been a year. I remember not being able to think past a day or two, let alone a month. But I've survived a year with you in Heaven, a year on this grief journey. The two of you have changed me in ways I can't even begin to explain. I am so proud to be your mommy.
As each special time passes, a little bit of weight leaves me. At 8:30 when we learned you were gone, Lucas. The flashbacks hit so fierce, then just disappeared. I will never forget the look on Dr. M's face. Then again at 12:54am. I replayed scenes for about 20 minutes before. The hustle, the fear, my mom and sister coming in, and them cutting of my bra for surgery. (I know that is a funny detail.) I remember being terrified of your Daddy not being there and not getting to tell him that I love him. Having him by my side last night was more comforting that I could ever describe. Now to make it to 2:36am tomorrow. I am sure more weight will leave and I will find a new peace, a little bit of closure.
This time last year I was lying in Labor and Delivery, holding your body close, Lucas, trying to show him off to anybody who walked through the door. I don't know how many people came in that day, and how many left a little unsure. The pride of a mom is always there, and I was proud of my baby boy. Caleb, you were fighting for your life in the NICU. I hadn't seen you yet, but Daddy and Grandpa Tim had. I would get to meet you shortly after 5, when I was able to get up and into a wheelchair. It was hard to see you there so still, hooked up to so many wires and tubes. But the nurses were gentle with you.
Many are thinking of you today, boys. Just as they were last year. You have touched so many people's lives in so many ways. You are so loved and so missed every moment of every day.