Our Final Days

2018, Family, grief, loss, Lucas, Toby

This is the last picture we have as a family of four.

I was forcefully reminded as I started my morning commute today that this is the week I hate. The recurring flashbacks of those final days for our family, of what we thought was a normal week.

Crazy mornings trying to get Toby fed, Luke dressed, ready and out the door for work and school.
Schedules coordinated for pick-up and drop off of two boys.
School buses making each commute that day a little longer but giving me more time to talk and sing with my boys in the car. Both of them in the backseat. Both visible when I looked in the rearview.
Dinners in the kitchen with Luke running around and Toby in the swing or in one of our arms while we cooked.
Playing in the backyard after dinner – hitting the baseball, riding bikes, taking walks to the park.
Bedtime routines – which included 2 baths and 2 books, but one set of nighttime prayers.

I can vividly see each of these moments. I don’t even have to close my eyes. But they are so quickly swept away by the flashbacks of Wednesday, August 24. The day that so cruelly changed our lives forever and took our baby boy from us.

I try to change my commutes this week so I don’t have to sit at the light, staring at the building where I had to leave my son.

This morning I saw the first school bus and it had me crying immediately. I can hear the conversation that morning in the car, between Luke & I. Our niece and nephew were having their first day of school and we were talking about them getting on the bus and we also saw about 15 school buses from home to the sitters.

I want to go back to that day and make myself stay home. Call off work. Tell the sitter “The boys won’t be there today.” And just have a day with my little boys. My God – would things have been different?

I hate nighttime. It’s not the dark that I’m afraid of. It’s every other monster that meets me there. Memories. Smells. Sounds. Visuals. They are all a trigger for me.

The restlessness of knowing what this week is started for me last night. I laid in bed last night starring at the moon through the blinds. Wondering where Toby was or what he was doing.

Can he hear me? Can he see me? Does he sit with Luke at night and make sure he’s safe? Who did he help today? Will we ever know who our little boy protected? Saved? Watched over? What does he look like? Does he have straight hair or curly? What is his favorite thing to do? Book to read? Song to sing?

You hear the phrase “Bargaining with God” most of the time in a homily at church or during a tragic time. You don’t know the depths of that phrase until you’re at your lowest. You think you have bargained in your lifetime, until you realize you’ve only been wishing, asking for his blessing.

I have bargained with God. I bargained with him as I sat in a hospital room, just my husband and I, holding our son, who had died two hours before.

I bargained with God on my drive to the hospital. Asking him to hold Toby and tell him I was coming.

I bargained with God that night when we came home. I sat on the kitchen floor and cried looking at all his bottles I had washed and ready to feed him, when we should have come home from work that day, as a family.

I bargained with God last summer when I was at my lowest point, feeling like I couldn’t go on. Screaming at God – “Why did you take him? How could you have possibly needed him more?

Why couldn’t you take me? I’ve lived a good life. I’ve known happiness and love. I’ve been fortunate enough to see many places and try many things. I married the love of my life who has done nothing but support and love me, through everything. I have carried and brought into this world two beautiful boys who have made my heart grow bigger and made me a mom. I could have gone. Would I have been scared and probably sad, being in Heaven and watching them – yes! But I think my heart could have healed knowing I could protect them, be their guardian and know they were being raised by the best father they could ever have.

Why couldn’t it have been me?

I’ve said this to God so many times in the past 24 months and still have no answer. But, it hits me the hardest during this week. With every other possible emotion and feeling, it all comes raining down.

There is one thing I know for certain, given the choice, I’d do it all over again. Even if it was just for 12 weeks and 5 days. I would take every moment; every smile; every laugh; every moment of Luke & Toby together; every moment of all four of us at home; every sleepless night or 3am feeding; every bathtime that didn’t go as planned; every single second that my son was an arms-length away or in my sight. I would take it. Even if I knew the timetable we were on. I’d probably still bargain with God every day.

But I’d take it.

To The Parents Preparing For School to Begin – A Note From A Grieving Family

2018, Creating Change, Family, grief, Lucas, Parenting, Toby

Lucas will start Pre-K this fall. With his first school application, we had to write a letter about our family. I was absolutely not ready for this. I knew we’d have to do it one day and know this is only the start of these conversations with teachers, administration, coaches, and families that we will meet along the way. But the triggers it brought were another layer of grief we were not prepared for.

The administration was very welcoming and told us that one of the first things classes do is a family tree, which also has a discussion about family amongst the children and asked if Luke would be comfortable with the conversation. I both cried and beamed with joy.

Luke is so proud of Toby. He may not say that exactly, but he talks about him multiple times daily, includes him in his stories and games and in his prayers at night. I have no doubt he will proudly talk about Toby during family discussions and projects at school.

Lucas & Toby – July 2016

I saw this article from Today Show and it triggered the tears. I don’t even have to read the article. We’re not even there yet, Toby would only be 2. But I know this will be me in two years and every year after that, for the next 20.

Every sport, every play, every class project, he will visually be missing from the class of 2034, but I know I will watch that Class and wonder he would be.

My mothering heart prays that school, classmates, and other parents will be kind to my little boys. This is our family, not by choice, God knows. These boys are our life and we will talk about them proudly, holding Luke & our Rainbow tightly and doing the same with Toby’s memory.

If by chance your family has a grieving family in your class, whether you know from the first day of school or don’t learn about it until mid-year, please be kind.

You may not understand. We don’t expect you to. We just ask for you to be kind to our boys – they don’t know any different and to them, we aren’t different. Luke is a big brother. Toby is his little brother, who to him loves baseball and the color green.

And if you really want to experience something amazing, take a moment to ask Luke about Toby. You may just find yourself hugging your own kiddos a little tighter that evening and thanking God for the blessings you get to kiss goodnight and tuck into bed each evening.

Remember, we are a family, just like you.

One of our sons just got called home a little sooner, to do God’s work.

Article from Today
Author: Jennifer Swartvagher

Dear Kindergarten teacher: My son will be absent on the first day of school

18 Month Milestone

2017, Family, grief, loss, Lucas, Parenting, Toby

To our sweet boy, who would be 18 months old today: my mind lately is continually trying to visualize what you would look like today?

I look at Lucas from that age and wonder, ‘would your hair be as straight? Or as blonde?’ I doubt it. I think you’d look very much like Daddy with darker hair and eyes. Sleeping is becoming hard again. I feel like it’s my body trying to adjust to a routine that we should be in, but we’re not, because you’re not here. I keep waking up in the middle of the night and then I’m awake for an hour or so. Staring through the crack between the window and the blind, wondering what you’re doing.

The past few evenings I wake up from a dream I’m having, although I don’t know what I’m dreaming about. My eyes seem to be slightly open and there’s flickering light but when I open them, I’m wide awake and it’s pitch black. I’ve convinced myself that it’s you and your angels visiting us in the night. I wish I could open my eyes quick enough to see you.

We’re working on getting the house ready for Christmas. I wish you could see it. Luke loved the lights when he was one. He’d sit and laugh looking at them. Everywhere I go I see fox ornaments. Aunt Megan said the other day “I’m not sure if they’re everywhere or if we just find them because we’re looking.” I feel the same way, but again, I’d like to think they’re little signs from you.

Daddy, Luke and I miss you, Toby. This really isn’t getting any easier. But we are trying. I look at pictures of you smiling and close my eyes, hoping I can still hear you laugh. Your laugh made my heart flutter and it made Daddy laugh, too.

On the way to work this morning, Luke said “We’re going to play baseball and Toby and I are going to win the trophy. No one else.” I’m sure you’ve heard us tell him that he can’t always win and that he’ll always have teammates. But, this morning, I said “Good. I like that plan.” My heart hurts knowing how much he misses you and knowing how much fun you two would have together. If you can, maybe visit Luke in his dreams. I know he’d love to run the bases with you, Toby.

Daddy and I will stand at home plate to high-five our boys as you score the winning runs.

Happy 18 months, baby boy.

I love you.

Mommy

To My Firstborn – On Your Third Birthday

2017, Family, Lucas, Parenting

To our handsome Lucas:

As you wake up on your third birthday, I want you to know a few things…

1. I really cannot believe you are THREE! Where have these 3 years gone? I look at you every day and I am so very proud of you. You are smart, athletic, thoughtful, strong, kind, and so loving. You go through each day determined to learn something new or become better at something you have been working at. You have no idea how long Daddy and Mommy prayed for you and the day you were born was truly one of the best days of my life.

2. This last year has been hard. We know that you know that. I’m sorry that Toby is not here with you, or that you cannot see him each day, or hold him like you did. But, you have showed us that you know where Toby is, what he likes, how he is doing and you continue to be THE BEST big brother he could have ever been given. I know that we have had more bad days than good, but I really pray that as you grow you know that the reason Mommy and Daddy get up every day, take another step forward, laugh on a day when all we’ve done is cry, is because of YOU. You, my sweet boy, are our rock and our reason for continuing on.

3. Over the past three years you have taught me many things. A few being – you can love someone even more than you did the day before; being a Mom is hard, but being a toddler is harder; how to have more patience (I’m still working on this one); sometimes you need to figure things out on your own; it’s ok to not do everything “by the book” some days; you should always have a “Plan B (or C, D, E)”; there will be hard days, and on those days, it’s ok to sit on the floor and have a good cry, not get out of your pjs till noon or have breakfast for dinner.

4. As you continue to grow, I hope you know that you won’t always be the best, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try! Mommy and Daddy are, and will continue to be, your biggest cheerleaders. We will continue to encourage you to try anything you want and to not to give up if it doesn’t go as planned. Have confidence in yourself – you are growing into one amazing little boy! Be kind to others. Other children won’t always act the same way. It’s hurtful and not right, but I pray you are still kind to them, stand up for yourself, and walk away. Always tell the truth. This is a hard one, especially when you don’t want to get in trouble, but it’s much easier to talk through something and learn from it, then to not tell the truth.

My beautiful Lucas, I hope that this year for your birthday, you have an amazing day and that whatever you are wishing for comes true!

I hope that you get to see or hear Toby and that he tells you how much he loves you and what an amazing brother you are.

I hope that you know how very much you are loved and you are as excited for year THREE as we are. We know you’ll knock it out of the park and next year at this time, we’ll have another long list of amazing things that made us so very proud of you!

One more thing. Please stop growing so fast. I worry that I’m going to miss something or that you won’t want to read a book at bedtime, or walk to the park, or sit in my lap or hold my hand. I tell you all the time “you will always be my baby boy – no matter how old you are.” I mean that!

I want to cherish every single second of this next year. I want to grow with you and learn how to love each day, just as much as you do.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Lucas Elliott! I love you to the moon and back.

xoxo,

Mommy ❤️

September 4, 2017

Month 11: Grief has a mind of its own

2017, Family, grief, loss, Lucas, Toby

Grief has a mind of its own. It has a way of rearing its head at a time that catches you with your guard down. It leaves you alone with your thoughts and deeply sad. Grief over these last four weeks has been quite harsh. Moments which have remained frozen or numb in my mind are starting to resurface and rather than the very familiar sting that comes daily with memories, they hit hard, take away my breath, and bring flashbacks of that nightmare of a day that robbed Toby of his future, robbed us of raising our second little boy and forever changed our lives.

I am a planner. I like to be prepared. I don’t like to be surprised. Caught off guard. Taken out of my comfort zone. The reality of the last 11 months have proven – none of that matters. Life doesn’t care what I have planned.

With my mind continuing to try and plan, prepare, guard the remaining part of my heart that is somehow still beating, I’d convinced myself that I would know the hardest days coming – Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, our first trip away without Toby, Easter, Mother’s Day, May 27 – Toby’s First Birthday, Father’s Day. Each month has not only brought a heart breaking milestone of counting the months that Toby has been gone from our arms, but it has brought a holiday or special day for our family where our beautiful baby boy is missing. Each month I’d make it to the 28^th and think “Ok, I don’t know how we did it, but we made it through that heartache. Now what’s next?”

All of that planning, guarding, circumventing, retreating, do you know what it was doing? It was taking all of the heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness and pushing it down. Like a heavy weight pulsing while the giant below grows stronger.

I made it till July 17. My 34^th birthday. Then the tiny line that was holding that weight – it snapped.

July 24, 2016

I woke up last Monday when my alarm went off for work. When I opened my eyes, Toby’s face stared back at me from the frame on my nightstand. My eyes got warm and tears ran down my face. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I wanted to close my eyes and go back to last July 17. I got up and went to pick up Toby from his bed. His big blue eyes wide and his beautiful smile let you know he loved seeing you. God, I want that feeling back. That feeling when you pick up your children and hug them so tight and say “I love you so much.” Hoping they can feel through your bones just how much love is in your heart for them.

We have a hand full of videos of Toby. I can’t watch them too often because they send me into the darkest pit of grief that I struggle to get out of. The one video is from my birthday last year. It’s me, holding Toby, and Luke sitting beside us. They’re singing me Happy Birthday. I’m smiling. Both my boys with me. They are so beautiful. I couldn’t stop watching it on Monday. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even have to close my eyes and I could vividly see moments from one year ago. I knew that I had dressed Toby in a blue collared onsie and Luke had his island shirt on. We went to lunch together and later after dinner had ice cream cake.

July 17, 2016

By the end of the day Monday the only thing I wanted to do was go to the cemetery. My routine way to and from work passes by cemetery each day, allowing me the opportunity to stop. Monday I needed to be there. I can normally make it to his grave before I start crying, that day, I only made it through the cemetery gates. I could hardly lift my body out of the car. My feet felt cemented to the ground when I tried to walk. I felt like it would be easier to just stumble down the hill.

I sat at the foot of Toby’s grave, my hand running over his name on the stone, and I cried. There was so much sadness exuding my body. My fingers tried to pull his name from the stone. It was in that very moment that the real, raw emotion of being a grieving mother appeared. It caught me completely off guard but I didn’t care. I had been carrying so much of this inside of me, even through my writing, discussions with others, and changes in our daily routines, it didn’t matter what I had done or had been trying to plan for.

The overlap in time since Toby’s birthday has been harder than we expected, if that’s even possible to say. We are continually tripping over landmines – memories that you wish didn’t have to hurt so badly.

It hasn’t just been the nights that are the worse. There have been days where 11 months of searching for Toby have hurt so badly over the past six weeks. There are days when I feel like I’m watching myself. There are times when I look in the mirror and I don’t know the women staring back at me. A local news station ran a story on our family last week – talking about our family’s grief and how we’re trying to use our pain to educate others. I was watching the segment and listening to the words and there was a part of my mind that was thinking “how heartbreaking.” – How does my mind continue to register moments that are so unreal? I still get sick to my stomach when I say “Our son Toby died.” Those words rock me to my core when they are coming out of my mouth.

There was a picture in the segment that was on the screen for a few seconds. I was holding Toby. Sitting in the recliner in our den. I remember taking that picture. I remember that I was going to delete it. We hadn’t slept that night. Toby was wide awake in the chair watching me talk to him. I took our picture and he looked right in the camera. I sat on the floor watching the segment play on the news and all I could do was stare at him. Dan, sitting beside me said, “He’s so beautiful.”

July 2016 – Toby and Mommy

I don’t know where 11 months have gone. I’m afraid I’ve missed so much. I hope Luke knows how much we love him and I hope he knows what an amazing big brother he is to Toby. I worry that we haven’t done enough for him.

I spent some time with him this weekend, just Luke and me. We were taking a walk around our neighborhood Saturday evening, he was chatting about everything. I love to listen to him talk. The things he says amaze me and make me so proud. I was watching him walk and he was stopping at every rain puddle, taking the biggest leap and jumping to make a splash. He would smile and walk to the next one. Out of the blue he said, “Mommy, Toby loves Heaven.” We weren’t even talking about Toby, or Heaven, or the sky, or being sad. He didn’t pause or even look up at me when he said it.

It’s those moments. Those reminders from Luke. Those are the reasons that I got up from Toby’s grave on Monday and went home to my family. To my husband and son and our two boxers who know, feel, see, and hear the pain that we have experience over the past 11 months. To the only house that Toby knew. To the four walls that hold every single second of our beautiful son’s life.

I left the cemetery on Monday and went home. Dan and Luke had cooked dinner for me. We sat down at the dining room table, all the blinds were closed both in that room and the adjoining living room. We said prayers and started to eat. I was looking at my plate and out of the corner of my eye, I caught something on the ceiling in the living room. Dan saw it too. We looked at each other in amazement. I looked at all the windows, trying to find a reason for what was happening. I couldn’t.

I was able to get a few moments on video before it stopped and vanished.

To me they look like flapping wings. Do you see it?

We sang ‘happy birthday’ and ate ice cream cake. Just like we did last year.

July 17, 2017

To my beautiful boy. I find myself searching for you every single day. I think about what it would be like to have both you and Luke in tow with me. I cry every day. Some days from moments that I’m ready for. Others, because I catch your smile or see a mom trying to juggle two boys and it crushes me. I want to feel you in everything I do, Toby. I want to be able to feel the warm sun and hear your soft coos. I am so desperately trying not to lose any part of you in our life. I need you to be here. You are our son. You are Luke’s brother. I don’t want anyone to forget that. I need people to understand that.

I believe that Toby is with us. Every. Single. Day. I believe that he is watching us. Keeping us safe. Sending things to make us smile, or laugh. He laughed a lot with us, even for how small he was. I’d do anything to hear you laugh. I believe you visit Luke and that he can see you and hear you, in ways we can’t even imagine. These thoughts, they help me. But they also frustrate me.

I am scared to death of August. I am scared to death of what the grief and anxiety will do to my mind, to my heart. I am scared of the resurgence of flashbacks and triggers and raw fear that will overtake my conscience. I have found a way to deal with those moments, when I’m standing on the edge and that enormous wave of grief is gaining height and speed, barreling towards me. I have to do something that connects me to Toby. I have to immerse myself in a project. Work on his foundation – The Little Fox. I have to do something with Luke that we would have done together.

This mother of two journey, that is now my life, is difficult. Talking about it helps me. Doing something in your memory helps me more.

I hope you can see that, Toby. I hope you can feel all the love that Mommy and Daddy have for you. We cry because we can’t have you here in our arms. Because you’re not physically here with us. Because this day each month is not getting any easier. Because we’re scared and heartbroken without you.

The Opportunity to Speak

2017, Creating Change, Family, grief, Joy, loss, Lucas, Parenting, Toby

We are overwhelmed with emotion from the last 24 hrs. When we started rallying the troops, nearly seven weeks ago, we had no idea the imprint we could make.

This petition is out there and making strides because of the initial efforts of Barry Kluger and Kelly Farley, and their children who died. We are standing behind this petition and making an effort to try and push for local, state, and national representatives to listen to WHY this is important.

Seven weeks ago I saw an opportunity to use the platform we have been building in Toby’s memory as a way to educate other’s about the lives of grieving parents, by supporting the Farley-Kluger Initiative to amend FMLA.

Two weeks ago, Jennifer Tomazik from WPXI-Channel 11 called. She told me that she had been reading my blog and had been referred to us from a friend who told her about what we were trying to do. She asked if we’d be willing to talk to her – about our family, Toby, and the bill to amend FMLA – because she saw a story that the community and families in our region could relate to, and hopefully help.

This was a big decision for us. Don’t get me wrong, we have been talking and sharing and advocating in support of others, but this opens our lives and our son’s lives to the world. We all know how social media is – it can be a powerful tool. It’s frightening to be so open and so vulnerable.

Over the past 24 hours our phones, email, the blog and social media have been flooded by amazing people who have shared our story, advocated for others to read and sign the petition, and offered their support. It has been remarkable and overwhelming.

Farley Kluger Initiative_24hrs

Yesterday when we sat down to talk with Jennifer, that discussion opened wounds wide-open and the emotions for Toby have come flooding back. Dan and I sat together and watched the segment last night, with Luke yelling at the TV “that’s me and Toby!” We’ve read a lot (not all) of the notes and comments that have been sent to us. We’ve cried as we watched Toby’s beautiful face on TV and online and we’ve shaken our heads in amazement as to the amount of people that have taken time out of their day to listen to our story, offer their support for Toby’s death and our family’s grief, and also sign and share the petition.

Again, THANK YOU – to every one of you that have done something. Those words, thank you, will never be enough, but it is your words, support and actions that help us know that what we are doing is making a difference and that Toby’s life, although too short, will make a difference in the lives of others.

Toby Stern

I wanted to give a little update on the Foundation, because there have been some questions and inquiries over the past day. We have spent the last three months talking with other non-profits, professionals that assist in creating non-profits, board members of non-profits and continually soaking up all this information. This is a big decision for us and an educational one, at that. We want to make sure that however we decide to proceed, that we are comfortable with it and that it is reflecting what Dan and I, as Toby’s parents, want the foundation to be and grow into. There are a lot of moving parts at this point and once we are ready, we will gladly share all of that with you. There will be opportunities to help, volunteer, donate, fund-raise, and most importantly share with your networks. The Little Fox | Toby’s Foundation is taking shape and we look forward to its launch in the near future.

I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to thank WPXI-Channel 11 and Jennifer Tomazik. Thank you for taking the time to learn about our family, about our circumstance and most importantly about Toby. Your efforts to talk with us and share our message turned into a beautiful tribute to our son and an amazing platform for the Farley-Kluger Initiative. Also, you’ve extended your resources for help on future endeavors and interest in supporting The Little Fox, and for that Dan, Lucas and I are so grateful.

WPXI Visit_July 20 2017

We hope by way of WPXI’s story, more doors will open to connect with the media and interest is peaked to support the efforts of the Farly-Kluger Initiative. We welcome the opportunity to speak with anyone about this grassroots effort and our family’s story.

Before I go, I’d like to ask for three things from our readers:

If you have not signed the petition to amend FMLA, please visit: www.farleykluger.com and do so today.
If you have already signed the petition and would be willing to take 10 minutes to write a letter to your local representative, please visit my blog post from last week here: https://ourhappyplaceandco.com/2017/07/13/next-steps-farley-kluger-initiative/
If you are not doing so already, take a moment and “follow” our website/blog. At the bottom of the website there is a little [+] button; click that and then click the blue “Follow Our Happy Place & Co.”

Here is the link to the segment that aired yesterday, July 20, on WPXI-Pittsburgh’s Channel 11.

http://www.wpxi.com/news/top-stories/local-family-petitioning-law-to-include-parents-grieving-loss-of-child/566361587

Easter Morning in Heaven

2017, faith, Family, grief, Home, Joy, loss, Lucas, Marriage, Toby

Last Sunday as we sat in church for Palm Sunday mass, I was overcome with emotion thinking of what Heaven would be like for Easter and what beautiful sites Toby would see this week.

Can you imagine, seeing Jesus’ face on Easter morning? I cannot, but the thought of my beautiful son having the honor to be in His presence this morning, it takes my breath away.

We were gifted a tree in rememberence of Toby in the fall and planted it in our front yard. It has grown a few inches through the winter and the past few weeks the buds have been forming. Yesterday, a few of them bloomed. I thought it was so fitting that the flowers on his tree first bloomed during Easter week. These magnolia flowers, with maroon, pink and white on their petals are simply beautiful and to me are a glimpse from Toby of the beauty of Heaven.

This is Luke’s third Easter and each year I’ve enjoyed buying him a cute tie for his Easter outfit. I cried shopping this year because I wished I was buying two ties. I should have just bought two, and I was mad when I got home that I didn’t. When I was pulling Luke’s Easter basket out of the closet I found his tie from his first easter, so I took that out for Toby.

We had bought Luke a basket with his initial on it for his first easter. This year I grabbed a small basket from Target for Toby, but when I was putting them together last night, I was again regretting not having one made that was special for Toby. I remembered that I had fabric I had found through the winter, but had not used yet. It matched the basket I had for him, so we improvised and made him his own. Fox and all.

Yesterday while walking back from the park, Luke picked a dandilion and immediately said “Toby’s really going to love to see this.” We looked down at him, smiling. Yes, he will, buddy. He loves to see you playing and having fun.

Our one son is not here and my heart breaks daily to see his sweet face and smile with him. We try to do things to make him a part of everything that we do and fully present in those special days and moments. I can’t imagine not including him in all these moments. Maybe, in a way, they comfort our hearts. But my hope is that he can see us and smile at what we are doing for him.

With Luke being sick this weekend, he was up before the sun again today. But, sitting in the living room, with only the tv on this morning, I was able to watch the sun rise outside our window. It rose through the two houses across the street, but more beautifully, from where I was sitting, it was directly above Toby’s tree in the front yard.

This picture doesn’t do it justice, but it was truly beautiful. Another sign of Easter Sunday.

While we are all celebrating, singing hymns at mass today, or praying in our homes, there are many empty chairs around our tables. Those that have just left their families and those that have been gone for some time, but are missed just as much. Our hearts ache for them to be here, but remember, they are at the table with Him today. They get to see His face first this morning. Wow, can you even imagine what a beautiful sight that must be?

He is not here. For He is risen, as He said. –Matthew 28:6

Wishing you and your families a beautiful, healthy, and blessed Easter holiday.

Blessings,

The Stern Family

Katie, Dan, Lucas & Toby

Bringing Home Baby

Family, Home, Joy, Lucas, Toby

As I first time mom, I remember wondering if I should be reading every book and taking every piece of advice that anyone had to offer. The pressure is a little overwhelming, isn’t it?

The new post on Pittsburgh Moms Blog talks about my scenario for bringing both boys home from the hospital. To say the least, it’s night and day.

Bringing Home Baby

Healthy Eating with Your Toddler

Family, Food, Lifestyle, Lucas, Parenting

I’m over on the Pittsburgh Moms Blog talking about easy and fun ways to tie your toddler into healthy eating habits in your home (without bribing! 😉 )

Check out the post here: Easy (and fun) Ways to Tie You Toddler into Healthy Eating Habits

Do you have recipes or ways that you tie fruits and veggies into your kids meals that they will eat? We’d love to hear them so that others can try them out if they’re struggling with a picky eater!

A New Endeavor

2017, Dan, faith, Family, Lucas, Marriage, Parenting, Toby

I have spend the last few weeks very focused in prayer. That was one of my small goals for the year. It has been normal in these times to also talk to Toby. Tell him what is on my heart and ask for guidance or some sort of sign as to whether or not I should even be carrying whatever it is that is heavy on my heart and mind.

An opportunity presented itself at the beginning of January as a way to help our mission of being a voice for grieving parents and parenting through the loss of a child, while also offering the chance to work with some amazing people. View the video below to see what door has opened for our family (video is ~10mins).

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We continue to be ever grateful for the support, encouragement, outreach, thoughts and prayers for our family. You are in our daily prayer of thanksgiving. Through this new endeavor I look forward to hearing, learning and growing more through those that follow us at Our Happy Place & Co., and those that find us through Pittsburgh Moms Blog Network.