Quentin James Brunson

I love this time of year. It's filled with fireworks and family and lots of fun. But it's also a time of year that is filled with sadness for me. Because 9 years ago was one of the worst days of my life. And this year was especially hard for me. Why was it so hard? Because I completely forgot about it. I forgot to remember that day and to remember my son. As I was lying in bed last night it hit me. I hadn't spent a moment thinking about my Quentin. What does that say about me as a mother?

I hope and pray that Quentin is in heaven looking down and feeling happy. That he can feel the love I have for him and for his three amazing siblings. And that he knows that I could never ever forget him. I can't believe he would be 8, turning 9 this year. I can't believe how convinced I was that I was never going to be a mom and how blessed I am to have the children I do now. The feelings are a bit at odds with each other. And I sometimes have a hard time reconciling them.

Nine years ago:

After struggling for years to have a baby Tim and I were finally pregnant. I remember being so excited to watch the fireworks with my family with my cute baby belly. I was excited to show it off and to make these new memories; to attend one last fourth of July festivities before becoming a Mom.

For some reason my cute nephew, Colton wanted to lay with me during the fireworks and I remember thinking that next year at the same time I would have my own child to take that place. It was a little slice of Heaven.

My baby was due November 23rd and I was 4 1/2 months along. It was a happy day. The next day was not so happy. (If you don't already know what happened you can check out my previous post.)