The End of the Year, and the Start of the New Year.

It's the last day of 2025. The year that brought me you.

2025 started with thinking we lost you in January, to learning you had a complex heart defect in February. In March, we learned you had Trisomy 13. April and May consisted of fierce advocacy and finding a hospital that believed in you as much as we did. June, you made your entrance to our world, and your departure too soon after. July through December have simply been surviving and finding our new normal without you while trying to heal the hole you've left in our hearts and our family. 

In my last post, I said November was the hardest month yet, and unfortunately, I don't feel things are getting any easier. December brought your 6 month birthday, and Christmas without you. It's especially heavy as we move into the new year. When Milo first passed, I struggled with the calendar change to July, then August, because each month took me further away from his life. The concept of the new year takes me back to those raw emotions because as we move into 2026, I feel like I'm leaving a large part of me behind. The part of my life that will forever be frozen in time. My baby.

We continue to keep Milo intertwined with our daily lives. We had a stocking hanging for him with our stockings. We were hand delivered a beautiful ornament from our funeral home to add to our tree alongside our other special ornaments. Oliver seeks out his Milo Bear almost daily. Ryleigh asks to go visit him. We remember him in the quiet moments, and also in the glimmers. We remember him, even when it hurts. We will continue to honor our boy through this next year and every year that follows. 

2026, please be gentle. Our family needs it. 

Wishing you a year that is all that you want it to be and more. 

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