I just finished watching a movie about a girl and the pregnancy she went through—her first—just like you were mine. It brought back a lot of memories of not too long ago when I was pregnant carrying you and when I had you in the hospital.
No matter how many more children I might have I'll always clearly remember you, my first, how unique and special it felt to carry you—how much I love you.
God bless you, son…
Wednesday, August 12, 2026
I'm often provided little snippet videos and picture montage shorts of us growing up with the kids when they were very little. They often include shots of you along with them at the poolside or in the Rio house. Often I just smile. Sometimes it makes me laugh wistfully. At others, I sniffle or cry.
I know we won't be having more children now that we're both in our 40s, but I am taken these images and memories of some of our firsts together as a family. You can't get those times back once they're gone, but they are unique and special. And they're a reminder, too, of how much we were loved and love you still.
God keep you, Mom.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
Wednesday, August 12, 2026
I'm often provided little snippet videos and picture montage shorts of us growing up with the kids when they were very little. They often include shots of you along with them at the poolside or in the Rio house. Often I just smile. Sometimes it makes me laugh wistfully. At others, I sniffle or cry.
I know we won't be having more children now that we're both in our 40s, but I am taken these images and memories of some of our firsts together as a family. You can't get those times back once they're gone, but they are unique and special. And they're a reminder, too, of how much we were loved and love you still.
God keep you, Mom.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
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