My baby boy,

One thing I’ve struggled with is battling with myself in my mind around if I’m coping correctly. Should I really still be writing to you and posting these letters? Should I at least be able to gauge and know my own emotions and what’s going to come up? Shouldn’t I know how to “help myself”?

It sounds absolutely ridiculous when you think about it, but for whatever reason I worry I’m not “grieving correctly”. There’s no instruction manual on what to do when you lose a child. What are you supposed to do when one of the worst possible things becomes your reality? There’s no way to move through it, but in the back of my mind I’ve been making notes of what I’m doing and wondering if it’s “correct” or not.

Just yesterday I got to talk to a mom who lost her child a few years ago. You guys were born around the same time. I looked at her Facebook page and just saw myself in everything she posted. She’s still talking about her child, still celebrating her child, still having other people celebrate her child. Seeing just this one person doing this, who is a few more years into this nightmare than I am, gave me so much peace. I realized that whatever I want to do, whatever brings me joy, whatever I need to do to get myself through each day with your loss, I can do it.

I don’t need to explain to people why I’m celebrating you every May 31st, I don’t need to be concerned about how much I talk about you, I don’t need to feel weird about giving random people your candy from the elves or treats from your Easter basket. Each one of those things makes me smile and feel closer to you, so I’m going to do them. Connecting with just that one person yesterday lifted this huge weight off my shoulders that I put on there myself.

Sunday is actually the child’s birthday, so we will make sure we do an act of kindness for them. Each one of you got taken away much too early and had so much to give the world, but you’re all continuing to give.

I love you more than anything, my baby boy. Goodnight and sweet dreams.