Why We Celebrate Our Son’s Birthday, Even After Losing Him

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The balloons are the highlight of September 8 for us. Each year, we pick a theme that resonates with our son’s age. This year, my older kids, Mia and Ethan, chose a superhero theme. We’ve maintained the heartfelt tradition of releasing balloons. As they grow, they eagerly take part in this ritual, captivated as they watch the balloons drift into the sky. Each year, a stunning sunset graces our gathering, yet the only thing missing is our beloved boy, Alex, who would have turned 7 this year. He was our first child, and we lost him just 9 days after he was born.

Life took an unexpected turn on January 1, 2008, when I discovered I was pregnant. My husband, Tom, and I were overjoyed at the prospect of becoming parents. I had a strong feeling we were having a boy, so I eagerly searched for the ideal nursery decor and spent hours contemplating names. I felt great throughout my pregnancy, completely unaware of the hardships that lay ahead.

The anatomy scan at 20 weeks changed everything. The technician seemed uneasy, saying, “Your baby likes to hide.” Soon after, the doctor entered, looking troubled. “I’m afraid there’s an issue with your baby’s heart,” she said. My heart sank as she confirmed that our baby had a congenital heart defect known as hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS). Our world shattered, but I was right about one thing: we were having a boy, and he was already so loved.

Despite the grim diagnosis, we chose to continue the pregnancy. We consulted with high-risk specialists, prayed fervently, and hoped for a miracle. On September 8, 2008, Alex Jude made his entrance into our lives. He was perfect in every way, but the fear was overwhelming. HLHS typically requires three open-heart surgeries, and Alex was slated for his first when he was just a few days old.

Seeing him in that vulnerable state was heart-wrenching. After the surgery, I was consumed by guilt and anguish, wishing I could alleviate his suffering. Despite everything, the doctors reported that he was recovering well, and we were excited to bring him home. On the evening of September 16, I had the joy of giving him his first bottle, a moment I will never forget. But just a short time later, a call from the hospital shattered our hopes. Alex had experienced a “blue” episode, and we needed to return immediately.

Upon entering the NICU, I was handed my precious boy, cold and lifeless. I carried him to a quiet room, free from the tubes and machines, where he could finally be at peace. In the days that followed, I felt an intense anger toward the world around me. I couldn’t fathom how life continued for everyone else while mine had come to a standstill. I avoided social gatherings, especially those with children. I left my job, overwhelmed by despair.

A friend encouraged Tom and me to attend a neonatal loss support group, and it was a turning point for us. Those gatherings provided a safe space where we could share our grief with others who truly understood. A year later, we honored Alex’s memory with family and friends at his grave. We released doves, shared heartfelt letters, and celebrated his life with a cake. We were still mourning, but we also felt joy as we welcomed our daughter, Lily, into the world soon after.

As Lily turned 6, she began asking questions about her big brother. We strive to be honest, explaining that he had a sick heart and went to heaven. She often expresses her longing for him, and it breaks my heart. Soon, I will have similar conversations with her younger brother, Max, who is now 3.

Each year, we select a spot by the water in our neighborhood for the balloon release. This year, Mia and Max enthusiastically participated together. “Happy Birthday, Alex,” we say through smiles and tears. Though we can’t change the past or give him the healthy heart he deserved, we cherish the nine days we had with him. He will always hold a special place in our hearts.

For those navigating the complexities of pregnancy and loss, there are resources available, such as this excellent guide on fertility treatments that can provide support. And if you’re interested in boosting your chances for future pregnancies, check out these fertility supplements. For more insights on family planning, you might find value in this blog post.

Summary

Celebrating the birthday of a lost child can be a bittersweet experience, filled with both joy and sorrow. For Jessica Thompson, honoring her son Alex’s memory with annual balloon releases has become a cherished tradition. Despite the heartache of losing him just days after his birth, Jessica and her family have found ways to remember his life and include him in their ongoing journey. Through shared experiences and the support of others, they navigate the complexities of grief while celebrating the love they continue to hold for Alex.