My baby boy,

It’s my final time going to bed in my thirties. I never pictured a big party or anything for my 40th, but I pictured all four of my babies being here and present for it.

I wonder if you’d be making fun of me and telling me I’m “getting old” or just overly excited and asking what we are going to do to celebrate. Your siblings have already asked, but for the most part it’s just a normal day. I volunteer for Elijah’s kindergarten class tomorrow afternoon and then Ellie has hip hop class. Afterwards, we are going to eat a late dinner at Gma and Pap’s. Lucas keeps asking me what time I want to get up, as if I’m so excited that I need to wake up super early. I told him that everyone is free to sleep until their normal time and are still going to school.

I learned a lot in my thirties, but I don’t think I enjoyed it enough. I don’t think I appreciated everything enough. To be honest, I don’t think current life views all came until after we lost you. It’s like everything I knew and thought for the first 38.5 years just immediately got erased. The things I always worried about were pointless, the things I had previously cared about didn’t matter, and I was missing all of the best moments because I was caught up in what I needed to do next or what I was possibly doing wrong. Several times I day I would worry that I’m permanently screwing up you and your siblings and those mistakes would follow you and haunt you throughout your lives.

Seeing the boy you were before you passed away, hearing the stories, knowing the day before you went to cut the girl’s dress out of her bike, you were an amazing human. Watching your siblings all navigate this horrible loss and everything they’ve had to go through, they’re amazing. Regardless of the times I may have messed up as a parent, you all surpassed anything I ever was at your ages.

My only birthday wish is to get some kind of sign from you tomorrow so I know you’re with me on my birthday. Please? I love you more than anything, baby boy. Goodnight and sweet dreams.