Each month after Audrey was born I wrote her a letter. I have so enjoyed going back and rereading those letters this last year as she approaches 2 and seeing the things that she was doing and what particular things were the “big deal” moments in her interactions with Adam and me. I will forever cherish those letters and a part of me thinks she will too. 

Today, George Mason would have been one month old. March 10,2017 should have included taking pictures with a sticker on his chest and something for size reference stuffed gently next to him. Today should have been a reflection of the last 4 weeks; of our exhaustion and our joy, and all those moments with my precious baby that make those sleepless nights, sore body, and left over baby weight worth it. Instead, today I don’t have an update to write or a month to remember with fondness, I have a month of grief and tears and inexplicable pain. My son’s 1 month anniversary of his birthday is also the 1 month anniversary of his death. 

February 10, 2017, holds the place of two very, very special days. It was the day Adam and I met our son, his birthday, but it was also the day he entered into glory, his heavenly birthday. I wish those two occasions were 90 years apart from each other. I wish that he had grown up in our house, played sports on Saturday mornings and cheered on the ‘Noles & Mountaineers on Saturday afternoons. I wish that he could have met the love of his life. I wish that he could have experienced the joy of having children of his own. I wish he had grown to be a grumpy old man who loved his grandchildren. I wish so many things that sometimes I can barely breathe. So today, instead of writing a letter for my son to cherish as he grows old, I’m writing a letter about how much he is missed and how much he is still so very loved. 


George Mason,

Today you would have been one month old. It hurts so much to think about that. It has been a month of sadness for us here on earth without you. Those of us who are still waiting to meet Jesus miss you incredibly. Your big sister talks about you all the time. We look at pictures and videos of our short time with you. We talk about all of your boo boos and how you don’t have them anymore. We blow kisses to heaven and say we love you each night at bedtime (and many more times throughout our days). Audrey makes sure that I know how soft your skin was and that you had fingers, eyes, and a mouth just like she has. 

I imagine that you would have been a very strong willed little man. You were such a fighter while I was pregnant with you, it seems fitting for that to have carried on into your life outside my womb. The doctors in the NICU even told us that you had a will of your own and they only knew you so very briefly. I can remember those first weeks after your sister was born and just how immediately and deeply our hearts were taken by her. It was the same for you, my dear son. From the minute we heard your sweet little cry as they passed you through the “McDonald’s” window (that’s what the NICU doctors called the passage window between the OR and the NICU), your daddy and I were smitten. We had been awake for over 30 hours when we first got to meet you and nothing about that mattered. You, George Mason, were worth all the waiting and unknown. We love you so very much. 

I know that you would have really really adored your big sister. She’s pretty cool, way cooler than your mama, and I know she would have been a pretty awesome big sister. She might have been a little rough with you at first, but you were a strong boy and would’ve been fine while y’all worked out your precious sibling relationship. I miss that relationship every minute of every day… 

George Mason, I know that you don’t know pain. That you aren’t feeling this loss like we are, and I’m so very thankful for that. As your mama, I never want to see you in pain and I know that Heaven is the perfect place for you. I hope that my mama is holding you tight until I can be with you one day and I hope that she teaches you all about worship since I didn’t get to share that with you. One day you can show me around and give me the ins and outs of living in the presence of our Great Father. 

I want you to know that you are a perfect miracle and I’m so thankful for your life. I loved getting to know you as I carried you in my belly and learned about who you were as a little man. You have an incredibly special place in my heart and I want you to know how loved you are by your family on this earth. I prayed that you would be God’s light on this earth, and son, you have been that and so much more. You were only with us for 16 short hours but you left an amazing mark on our lives in that time. Your daddy and I miss you every single day but we will love you until we are reunited one day at the feet of Jesus. 

As your daddy and I live out our time here on earth, we will take your story with us. You will never be forgotten. You will be celebrated and grieved. We will long for what life could have looked like and mourn those losses as they come. You are incredibly special to us and your short life, though not what we would have chosen, was exactly what God intended for you. We will forever be grateful that we met you, held you, cried with you. You made us a family of 4 and we will cherish that. We love you, George Mason.

Mama & Daddy