Sam-Day

Today is Sam's fifth birthday. For those who may not know, Sam is our first child, and he passed away just hours after his birth due to complications from an umbilical cord accident. He was a truly beautiful baby, and to get a sense of what he looked like you can look at either Clara or Jonathan. They are all triplets born years apart!

This birthday feels like something of a milestone, which has made today and the weeks leading up to it both difficult and peaceful. I have not quite felt like myself lately, especially for the last week, and for all of you who are familiar with grief--which is just about everyone!--you have probably experienced periods after an acute loss, even years later, where you recognize yourself going through various stages of mourning all over again. That's how I've felt this week. But when I woke up this morning I somehow felt happy, and now that I'm thinking about this and writing about it I have to believe that Sam's spirit is nearby and is having a comforting effect on our home and family.

Many of you knew me and Jeremy when Sam was born. We are still comforted and touched by remembering the outpouring of love and prayers and kind words you offered during those first difficult days, weeks, and months. I am especially grateful for my family and Jeremy's family who have always been wonderfully sensitive and have taken care to think of Sam and to visit his grave in Provo. I also do not think I would have made it through those initial months without the selfless support of my wonderful friend Stephanie. Steph and I had been good friends for several years, and when Sam was born we worked together at UVSC. Stephanie was pregnant with her own first baby boy, and despite the anxiety my experience caused her about her own baby's health, she selflessly talked with, listened to, and cried with me. I really don't think I could've done it without you, Steph.

As the years have past and our family has grown, the meaning of Sam's Day has continued to evolve. This year we're looking at it as a celebration of our family and a recognition of our blessings, and we're celebrating with a special family dinner complete with a ridiculous cake I'm making for Jeremy. (Those of you who know me well probably know that I almost never make dessert, so the fact that I am making--and I kid you not--an eight-layer yellow cake with this off-the-hook frosting that has actual chocolate, actual cream, and actual butter in it will seem really surprising. That is just how much I love my husband.) Other than our special dinner it's a pretty low-key day. Jeremy is working, our kids are sleeping, and I am left to myself to bake cake layers and to reflect upon my happy life. There were times early on that all I wanted was to wake up after five years had passed so that I could be spared all of the hurt and heartache that greeted me each day. Now that I've woken up this morning, I can safely say that never would I trade even one of those days. To paraphrase what someone once said under very different but very difficult circumstances, I am grateful even for Sam's death, because it enabled me to have the absolute knowledge that God lives, because I became acquainted with him in my extremity.

So here's to Sam, who lived the life he was supposed to live. I know he continues to touch our lives, and I also know of at least one family whose lives are different because of Sam: Two years ago we learned that Sam's pulmonary valve was given to a 4-month-old boy in Massachussetts in 2005. Sometimes I like to think about that little boy and his healthy heart. And when I do, I always smile.