Last Friday marked the solemn anniversary of my first son’s passing, and that made me think of something. In my family, late January/early February always felt special because my mom’s birthday and mine are just five days apart. Growing up, those days in between became extraordinary times to celebrate, ending with my own birthday on Groundhog Day. For a long time, this represented the happiest moments of my life.
But in 2003, everything shattered. On January 30th, I had to take my son off of life support. He died in my arms—an experience so harrowing that it redefined my entire world. His viewing fell on my birthday, followed the next day by his funeral.
I truly believed my birthday would always be a horrific reminder, and for years I didn’t feel like celebrating, instead re-experiencing that trauma and bracing for impact every time Groundhog Day rolled around.
But life has a strange, magical way of turning the soil when we least expect it. Years later, I got pregnant with my last baby. She made her grand entrance on February 1st—thirty minutes before my birthday.
My mom remarked on how incredible the timing was. Within that tiny window between her birthday and mine, the universe had tucked both the date of my son’s death and the date of my daughter’s birth.
I'll never forget sitting in that hospital bed the day after Indy was born. Nurses walked in with a cake and sang “Happy Birthday” while I held my precious newborn baby—and the moment took my breath away.
The very day once a monument to grief had now been reclaimed by new life.
People often say that time heals, but although time doesn't take the loss away, it does change things. When I look back now, the sharp, jagged edges of loss have softened. I don’t just remember the sorrow of my son's death; I remember the warmth of holding him…and the love.
So, last week, on the sobering anniversary of when he died, I fully realized that, yes, life is filled with both shadows and light, but if you are in a dark season, it's worth it to hold on because you never know what miracle could be right around the corner if you have the courage to just keep moving forward.
