Today is my son’s birthday.  James.  He would have been 11 this year.  He was born 19 weeks premature, and died during the delivery.  You would think that after 11 years you “get over it” but the sadness is still there.  Not as strong.  Not every day.  But I will never forget.  It will never be the same.  There will always be a hole in my heart where James should be smiling.

A few days ago he should have been getting on the bus, off to 5th grade.  I should be washing his soccer uniform getting it ready for his games this weekend.  I should be breaking up a fight between him and his older brother over who ate the last of the Oreos.

But instead I will drive to the cemetery, and place a small teddy bear on his gravesite.  Although he would have been 11, I remember him as the sweet baby I held in my arms, dressed in pj’s, wrapped in one of my mom’s quilts.  I will try to only remember him today but I will not be able to.  I will be reminded of the loss of his brother, Jacob, who lies next to him.  Two tiny graves next to each other.  We lost Jacob 9 months before James was born.  He was born at 24 weeks old, he was in the NICU for three weeks before he died from complications of NEC.  Jame’s Birthday today will always remeind me of Jacobs and vice versa.

So today the grief will be great.  But this weekend the grief will be put aside to enjoy the blessings of the children that are with me here on earth.