Bella’s 5th Birthday in Heaven

It’s morning and I wake up to the sound of my alarm. I fight through sleep and open my eyes and my first thought is you. It’s your birthday today; you would be 5 years old. I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like if you were still here. I see myself jump out of bed and run into your bedroom excited to wake you up. I sing as I enter your room. “Happy Birthday to you…Happy Birthday to you… Happy Birthday sweet Bella…Happy Birthday to you.”

Tears fill my eyes and as I open them, the tears run down my check as reality slams me down and steals the wind from my lungs. I’m paralyzed and struggle to breathe. My mother’s words fill my ears: “This cant be happening!” Yes, it happened and this is real life.

I close my eyes again and return to my safe place where death isn’t real and You are fully alive. Your vibrancy fills my lungs with air as a smile sweeps across my face.

Your dirty-blond hair falls mid-back, is straight and full of body. Your eyes are the same, old and wise. Your face hasn’t changed much, just a few years older. You dance as I sing to you, twirling round and round. You giggle and grin and are so happy, so alive! You are so excited that it’s your birthday and thrive on the extra love I give you on this special day. I want to make sure you know just how special this day is to me, how very much you mean to me.

The alarm sounds again and you vanish as I cling to the memory of what I just witnessed. I’m instantly reminded that I won’t be singing to you again this year.

My chest is heavy and I refuse to get out of bed. Today is one of those days that I allow myself to not be okay.

I look at the photos of your birth and try to relive the moments captured. I desperately want to return to that day, to give birth to you once more. The pain of your 9 lbs 3.5oz body passing through me is nothing compared to this pain of having to live in a world without you. I would relive the day of your birth over and over again until the end of time just to have one more moment with you.


I decided I needed to get out of bed tonight day because our puppy needed the go to the vet. A special friend showed up and spent the day with me; it was nice not to be alone. The day ended with cake, balloons, and a small gathering in our living room. Signs surrounded me today reminding me that she is never far away.

The best part of the day was hearing my family sing “Happy Birthday” Bella! Having only celebrated one birthday on earth, we have only sang it to her once before… until tonight. I’ve been reading about how other parents get through their child’s birthday after loss and was surprised at how many of them actually sign to their child in heaven. My friend brought a candle for Bella’s cake, so we sang. And it felt wonderful! I hope Bella was dancing in heaven today, with the angels, under the rainbows.




19 Months and Two Weeks

Losing Bella was the moment my life was forever changed. My life is now split in two; there is my life before loss and life after Bella. This mark she’s left on my life often shows up in other places and triggers my grief, but the reminders also fill me with love. It’s bittersweet.

19 months and two weeks. That’s how long I had with Bella. And now it’s also how long I’ve had with Aria.

As much as Bella and Aria are two separate people… As much as it’s unfair to compare them to one another… As hard as I try to not think about these things, I can’t help but be reminded of Bella through Aria.

Up until yesterday, I’ve been able to compare Aria with her sister at the same age. I don’t do it to rate them, but it’s interesting to see how each child is unique.

At 19 and a half months old, Bella was my little firecracker. She liked to play with cars and loved to wear her tutu. She didn’t like to sleep and spent nights in my bed with me. She loved her brother and her puppy so much. She was persistent and strong-willed. Bella only spoke a few words but her gross motor skills were very advanced for her age. She was a happy, healthy, active little girl who loved to climb and get into anything she could.

Aria is very much like her sister. She is plays with cars and loves her tutu too. She doesn’t like to sleep and spends most nights in bed with her father and I. She’s such a happy little girl, more laid back than her sister was. Her speech is very advanced and she is incredibly smart. She knows the alphabet and the sound each letter makes, can count to 10, animal sounds, shapes, numbers, etc. She blows me away every day with how fast she’s learning and just how much she knows.

Aria has been reminding me of Bella a lot lately. It’s not so much that she looks like her, although there is definitely some resemblance. It’s her mannerisms. It’s the facial expressions she makes. The sound of her laugh. Or cry. The way she walks. The way she moves her head. I often get a glimpse of Bella when I look at her. Sometimes I have a hard time telling them apart in photos. I love seeing Bella in her baby sister.

But now I fear this will disappear as time passes and Aria ages. I’m scared to lose that glimpse of my angel that I see in her rainbow sister.

These reminders always fill me with love. These glimpses are like magic to my day. It’s like Bella is saying hello.

I couldn’t help but think about Bella yesterday morning. As Aria put her arms around me and said “Hi!” I couldn’t help but think back to 19 months and 2 weeks with Bella and where we were.

On the kitchen floor doing CPR.

In the ambulance.

In the hospital.

Saying goodbye.

Leaving the hospital without her.

Shattered and numb.

This morning, as Aria hugged me, I inhaled her sweet scent and whispered to her. “I love you baby. I’m so happy you’re here.”

And in that moment, I realized that things have changed once again. She has now been alive longer than her sister. She will continue to grow and learn and will reach many milestones that her sister never had the chance to. And with every milestone achieved, I will now always wonder what it would have been like for Bella. Because this is what loss-parents do… We wonder. Constantly!

This breaks my heart.

It shatters me once again and brings back the grief, fresh and raw.

I will always wonder… and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to feel sad and heartbroken. It’s okay to miss her.

Nothing can change what happened to Bella. But life continues after loss. We continue to grow, experience, and evolve. A part of me will always be missing.

And I have to be okay with that.