𝗠𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀, 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 a 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝟭𝟳 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀.

Sounds like an overstatement, right? Let me tell you the story.

I was visiting with my mother-in-law a few weeks ago, and telling her I was thinking about making a companion journal for A Thousand Pounds just for those who want to support someone they love who is grieving.

I was primarily thinking of grandparents. She immediately said, "And for sisters."

This baby is her nephew, OJ. He was born July 2, 1980, and died unexpectedly a short 17 days later.

She told me of the pain of not knowing how to support her grieving sister. She said she cried at home all summer as she took care of her own baby who was just a few months older than OJ.

In her grief, she was shaken by the reality of how temporary life can be, and because of OJ's death, decided that she would not be going back to work and sending her baby to daycare.

And if she wasn't going back to work, rather than staying home with one baby, she decided she'd like to stay home with two, and they decided to have one more baby.

That baby is my husband, David.

My whole life as I know is hinged on that decision. My husband, my high school sweetheart, the man of my dreams, the father of my children, my primary companion through life, is here because of the impact that was made by OJ's life and death.

I can't help but sit in complete wonder at the idea that my whole life would be different if it weren't for this little boy who only lived for 17 days before I was even born.

Our babies' lives matter. Their short lives continue to have a ripple effect in the world, even if we never truly understand what that is.

Happy birthday, OJ. I will always be profoundly grateful that you were here.