When a newborn enters the world, you find yourself measuring their age in fleeting moments. It’s astonishing how life can transform so profoundly in what seems like an instant. Just hours ago, everything felt familiar, yet now you are acutely aware of a significant, lasting change. You’ve always known love, but now you discover an ability to love that renders previous experiences pale and superficial. Initially, you tally your baby’s age in hours, then days. Soon, like counting the weeks of your pregnancy, you transition to tracking in weeks. Six weeks, eight weeks, twelve weeks—it feels precise and aligns with your baby’s developmental milestones as outlined in parenting books. Eventually, this method becomes cumbersome, leading you to count in months. It’s hard to imagine that before long, you’ll think of your child’s age in terms of YEARS—and perhaps even use that age to calculate your own!
With the heart-wrenching loss of a child, the perception of time feels eerily similar. How could it be that just moments before I reached the water’s edge, my son, Max, was alive and well? They have been searching for him for hours. A day has passed since our lives were irrevocably changed. Two weeks, three weeks. Could it already be a month? Do we start counting in months now? Yet his belongings remain here—his new shoes, which he never had the chance to wear, still sit by the door to his room. He still receives mail, for goodness sake!
When we think in weeks, we recall a specific Thursday at 6 PM. As we shift to months, the 8th stands out—a reminder of our pain. Will there truly come a time when we measure the passage of time solely in YEARS? What about decades? I believe so. Although Max will remain forever young, we will continue to age, counting the years without him.
In the early years, you celebrate milestones and, despite the difficult days, you find yourself wishing to slow down time to savor his childhood. Now, in the wake of losing a child, you mourn as the chasm between the past and present of your family’s story widens, while simultaneously yearning for time to accelerate, for decades without him feel overwhelmingly heavy.
If you’re already familiar with Sarah, it’s hard not to admire her resilience. If you’re new to her story, I’m honored to introduce you to one of the most courageous individuals I know. In facing the unimaginable loss of her son, Sarah became a symbol of grace. Her blog, once a humorous glimpse into the life of a typical mom, transformed into a heartfelt tribute to her son, her faith, and her unwavering strength.
Today marks the release of her first book, A Bright Light: A Memoir of Loss and Love. While undeniably filled with sorrow, the prevailing theme is one of faith, love, and hope. This inspiring narrative is a must-read, and I believe you will find a hero in Sarah, just as I have.