Dear Samuel,
Happy Birthday! You would be a teenager today (what?!?), and we would have 3 teenaged boys in the house, which would mean many moments of madness, no doubt. We already have some moments of madness to be sure, but I think another teenaged boy would amplify that. I have genuinely loved the teen years with your brothers -- so much more than I thought I would -- and I am sure I would have loved them with you, too. I get to see who Caleb and Joel are becoming, what they think about the world, what they value and prioritize, how their experiences shape them, what they believe about God and whether He is who He says He is. I get to answer their earnest questions, laugh at their increasingly individual senses of humor, be a safe landing spot when life has left their hearts (or egos) battered and bruised, and listen to their wonderings, their stories, their hopes, and their fears. It is all a divine privilege, and I love every minute of it -- even when they make poor choices or respond with harsh pushback. It's all part of being Mom, and I treasure every day I get with these remarkable young men. I would have loved doing all those things with and for you, too. I know Caleb and Joel would have been the best big brothers to you. And your little sisters would adore you they way they adore Caleb and Joel. Oh, sweet Samuel, you are missed.
This birthday is a little different for us. Caleb, Joel, and I went to Daytona Beach with our high school youth program last week, and when we got back on Friday night, all three of us promptly tested positive for Covid. The girls moved to Gabu's house for 5 days, and Dad moved to the basement. So your brothers and I have been hanging out for 4 days so far, and it's been a sweet time with them, but we miss your sisters and Dad a lot. We've seen them from a distance, and tonight we'll do our balloon tradition on opposite sides of the front yard, but I won't get to hug Bryan, Anna, and Eliza today, and that hurts my heart. In the past we've spent this day as connected as possible, but at least I have Caleb and Joel with me. I made brownies for your brothers and I to eat in celebration of you tonight, and Gabu is making the exact same kind for her, the girls, and Dad to eat. We're making the most of what we've got. And Colleen and Dave are joining us for front yard balloon releasing this evening. They are the ones who put this tradition in motion when Bryan and I were too grief-laden to make decisions. That first birthday they put together a whole day of celebrating you and making it fun for your brothers and gentle for us.
Despite disappointment at being separated, the boys and I have had a really sweet time together talking about all God did in Daytona, processing how we can continue to grow in our faith and stay rooted in Jesus, watching movies, and just being together. One morning Joel surprised me with an oatmeal bar; he set up bowls of strawberries, blueberries, craisins, pecans, and brown sugar and had oatmeal ready to go. My favorite thing is probably snuggling up on the couch with one of the boys. They are both taller than me now, so usually one of them puts his arm around me instead of vice-versa, and it always kind of melts my heart. Your brothers are thoughtful, kind, funny, and irresistible. I am so over-the-moon crazy about them, and I wish I could see you with them and see how you fit into the mix.
Anna had her middle school orientation today, which I had to miss. I would have missed it anyway, though, because I am starting part-time work this week, and today was supposed to be my first day. I haven't had a job since I was pregnant with Caleb 17 years ago, so it's a big change. I will be working at North Point's preschool for staff kids in the pre-toddler room. I think I will love it as you know I love babies more than just about anything. I smile whenever I think about spending 2 days a week with those little people. But back to Anna -- it's hard to believe she's starting middle school on Thursday. If you were here the two of you would be there together, and I think that would have been really sweet for both of you. She'll find her way, though. She always does. She's a bright light, that one.
Eliza will be by herself in elementary school for the very first time. She's starting 4th grade. She's always liked having an older sister with her and has typically cried anytime Anna wasn't going to be at school. This will be an adjustment for her, too. I think it will be good for her to find her own way. Eliza is helpful and tender and funny, and she gives great hugs. I wish you could know her and Anna. They are such radiant beams of goodness.
This morning I spent some time just thanking God for you and your life. I am SO GLAD He made you. Our story could have gone a thousand different ways, and I am so grateful God chose to write it this way. You could have never been conceived, and admittedly I wouldn't have had to walk through such grief and heartbreak, but I also wouldn't have known and loved you, wouldn't have seen your beautiful face, wouldn't have known the sweet presence of Jesus so tangibly during your month of life, wouldn't have had to lean on God with my whole being and found that He is enough just as He is -- even with unanswered prayer, wouldn't have known God as my most intimate Healer, wouldn't have walked through the fire with Bryan and found the incomparable comfort of clinging to each other in the deepest of loss, wouldn't have the firm assurance of God's loving heart and unfailing goodness through intense sorrow, and wouldn't have grown as a person, wife, and mom because of loving and losing you. We're all so much better because of you. And our love for you doesn't fade as the years go by. The heaviness of your absence lightens, but the joy of your life remains steady and true. You are one of God's most precious gifts to me, and I love you forever, Samuel Erik Apinis.
13 years since you came into this world and brought such joy and love and on-our-knees prayers for your life. 13 years since my heart burst with that new momma pride and the adrenaline of giving birth flooded me. 13 years since I held you without tubes and wires and incessant beeping. 13 years since that wash of hope filled my soul, and I thought "everything is going to be alright." And you know what? Everything is alright. It's not alright in the way I imagined it. You aren't here. You never came home from the hospital. We've never been a family of 7 all together. But you are whole. And you are healed. And you are our son forever. And we love you, and we are better because of you. And one day we will meet again, and you will be the one to show me the way then. I can't wait to be your student, Samuel. I can't wait to learn from you all you already know about Heaven and being in the presence of Jesus. Better is coming. For you it's already here. And that is beautiful.
Happy Birthday, Samuel Erik. I love you. I can't wait to see you again. We have a lot of hugs to catch up on.
All my love forever,
Mom
