Dear Sweet Baby Jake,
As summer winds down, my social media feeds are overflowing with photos of excited kids embarking on their first day of school. While I scroll through the joyful and sometimes tearful posts from other parents, I’m struck by the bittersweet reality that you, my darling son, are one of the many milestones I won’t get to share.
Though I held you close for just 39 fleeting hours, I’ve cherished the role of your mommy for almost six years. I’ve missed so many of your first moments—the magic of your first smile, the thrill of your first steps, and the joy of hearing you say “I love you.” The word mommy will never escape your lips, and now I face the poignant truth that you should be starting this exciting journey alongside your peers.
Every day since you left, I’ve navigated the ache of your absence, balancing it with the joy your siblings, Mia and Leo, bring to my life. It’s a delicate dance between honoring your memory and celebrating their accomplishments. The pain swells and recedes; sometimes it lingers quietly, while at other moments, like right now, it grips me so tightly that it’s hard to breathe.
This first day of kindergarten feels different. It’s a monumental moment, a stark reminder that life continues without you. Other children born around the same time are off to school—your friends, who will never know you. Parents will gather at bus stops, snapping photos of their little ones as they embark on their educational adventures. Your absence will go unnoticed in those pictures, the world moving forward as if you never existed.
When the teachers call roll, your name, Jake, won’t be on the list. No one at school will know that a brave boy named Jake should have been starting class this year. The principal, the teachers, and the other kids will launch into a new school year without a thought of you, and that’s a heavy burden to bear because I miss you deeply. You were here, and though you’re not physically present, I know you should be part of this milestone, shouting “here” and making your presence felt.
I remember receiving parenting materials in the mail long after you left us, and I hated it. Tears flowed like rivers as I wondered why the world kept sending me reminders that felt like salt in my wounds. Yet, looking back, I see that those materials were a clumsy acknowledgment of your existence. Six years later, however, that acknowledgment has faded; now it falls to me, your mommy, to share the story of a brave little boy who would have been conquering kindergarten this fall if only he’d had the chance.
I love you, dear Jake. As your classmates head off to school next week, I hope you and the other little angels in Heaven are embarking on your own amazing journey, knowing that you are forever cherished and never forgotten.
With all my love,
Mommy