By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Dec. 15, 2015
The balloons are what it’s all about for us on September 8. Each year, we select a theme that resonates with our son’s spirit. This time, our two other children, Emma and Noah, decided on a dinosaur theme. We continue the cherished tradition of releasing balloons, and as they grow older, they eagerly join in. Watching the balloons ascend into the sky has become a source of joy, especially as we are often graced with stunning sunsets. Yet, there remains a profound absence—the boy we love and miss every day. This year, Liam would have turned 7. He was our firstborn son, and he left this world just 9 days after his birth.
Life took an unexpected turn. On January 1, 2008, I discovered I was pregnant. My husband, David, and I were overjoyed. We envisioned our future with our first child, a time filled with anticipation and dreams. I felt an intuitive sense that we were having a boy, so I dived into decorating the nursery and selecting names. Despite my excitement, I was blindsided by what was to come.
The anatomy scan, typically performed around 20 weeks, was meant to provide insights into our baby’s development and reveal the gender. However, the sonogram technician’s demeanor raised alarms—“Your baby likes to hide,” she said. Shortly after, the doctor entered and delivered the devastating news: “I think there is something wrong with your baby’s heart.” A pediatric cardiologist confirmed our worst fears; our son had hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), a severe congenital heart defect. Our world shattered, but one thing was clear—he was already deeply loved.
Despite the diagnosis, we chose to carry on with the pregnancy. We consulted high-risk doctors and prayed fervently, hoping for a miracle. On September 8, 2008, Liam Jude was born, perfect in every way. My love for him was overwhelming, but so was my fear. HLHS usually requires a series of surgeries, and Liam would undergo his first just days after birth.
Seeing him in a vulnerable state post-surgery filled me with guilt and anguish. I wished I could take his suffering away. Miraculously, he showed signs of recovery, and we were hopeful as we took him home a few days later. That evening, I held him close and fed him a bottle, a moment I will forever cherish.
But the joy was short-lived. A phone call from his doctor shattered our newfound peace. Liam had experienced a “blue” episode, and we needed to return to the hospital right away. My heart sank, knowing what was likely to come. In the NICU, we cradled our lifeless son in our arms, free from the tubes and pain. Surrounded by family and our pediatric cardiologist, I held him tightly, lost in disbelief as time slipped away.
In the aftermath, I found myself enveloped in anger and resentment. Life continued around me, while I felt frozen in grief. I avoided gatherings, especially those with children, and eventually left my job. A friend encouraged us to join a neonatal loss support group, which became our lifeline. There, we connected with others who understood our heartache and learned how they honored their lost children.
A year later, we gathered with family and friends at Liam’s grave to celebrate his life. We read letters to him, released doves, and shared a cake. Even amidst our sorrow, we felt joy as we prepared for the arrival of our second child, a daughter who would soon learn about her big brother.
This year, as Emma turned 6, she began asking more questions about Liam. We strive to be open and honest, explaining that he had a sick heart and is now in heaven. It pains me when she expresses how much she misses him. Our youngest, Noah, who is now 3, will soon embark on similar conversations.
Every year, we choose a serene spot near the water where both Emma and Noah participated in the balloon release. This year, it became a joint effort, as we collectively exclaimed, “Happy Birthday, Liam,” through smiles and tears. While we cannot change the past or grant him the healthy heart he deserved, we treasure the nine days we had with him. Though the memories we missed weigh heavily on us, we remain grateful for the time we shared. Liam will forever hold a place in our hearts.
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In summary, we celebrate Liam’s birthday as a way to honor his memory and the love we continue to feel for him. It’s a poignant reminder of the joy he brought into our lives, even if for a brief time.