This past year marked an important milestone for today's guest, LeeAnn. Aaron was killed in a car accident 18 years ago when he was 18 years of age. It never hit LeeAnn until last summer when someone asked her two questions: How long ago did Aaron die? How old was Aaron when he died? The answer to both questions was the same - 18 years. It was difficult for LeeAnn to believe.

LeeAnn says that she had two major epiphanies in her life. The first happened two years after Aaron died when she says she was in such deep darkness that she was simply existing. Her two sisters confronted her that day and asked, "Do you want to live? You are slowly killing yourself." LeeAnn had two other sons and family members who loved and needed her. She decided that she did want to live. She began to eat better and function - but she still did not feel joy.

That second epiphany happened several years later. LeeAnn realized she was existing and not truly engaging with life. She was not feeling any true happiness. She made a drastic change then, leaving her marriage and moving out on her own. She learned to find joy again. LeeAnn eventually remarried and had a third major event in her life. LeeAnn and her husband were looking for a therapist to help with a family issue related to one of his children. LeeAnn was suddenly reminded that she had been given the name of a therapist by a bereaved mom over a decade before whom she had never called.

Now, she called the number and made an appointment. The family issue was quickly resolved, but LeeAnn realized she had never properly grieved Aaron. She had made decisions to live and feel joy again, but she had not leaned into her own grief. She had tried to tuck it away, hoping it would resolve, but even after all that time, the grief sat there, waiting for her to pick it up and work through it. The therapist has been amazing for LeeAnn and beginning last year, LeeAnn volunteers to help other grieving parents in their journeys. She certainly hopes for them that it won't take 18 years to get where she is today, but she accepts that she couldn't have done it any other way.

"Medicine has reached the end of what it can do for your daughter. Our suggestion is that you take her home on hospice and enjoy her."

These are the words that were spoken to today's guest, Nikki, on September 30, 2020. Before that day, Nikki and her family had been searching unrelentingly for someone who could diagnose and treat their young daughter, Felicity. Although they took her to various physicians and hospitals, they were never able to get a diagnosis. At the time of her death at 21 months of age, Felicity was a sassy thing who still weighed less than 9 pounds. For the next weeks, they enjoyed Felicity as much as possible. They loved her every single day. Nikki said that on the day Felicity died, Felicity's suffering ended, but her own truly began.

Child loss of any type is devasting, but it is especially complicated when there is no answer as to why the child died. When someone asks what happened to Felicity, Nikki has to answer, "I don't know." For years, Nikki lived with so much guilt, thinking that there must be something she could have done differently. There should have been a way to get more help. Nikki desperately wanted to find out what happened to Felicity. Eventually, though, Nikki realized that she had done the best she could with the information she had at the time. If hundreds of experts could not diagnose Felicity, Nikki could not either.

Although geneticists are still looking for a diagnosis for Felicity, Nikki has turned her immediate focus on her living children. She says that while her grief has felt crushing, watching her children grieve Felicity has been even worse. The family talks about Felicity constantly. They do not hide from their grief. They acknowledge it and have learned from it. When Nikki's oldest son learned that his best friend's baby brother had died (Episode 271: AJ's Mom & Dad), he asked if they could bring him to see his friend, saying, "Mom, DI just needs a hug."

Maybe Nikki and her family will never learn exactly what happened to Felicity, but they have learned one important life lesson. Sometimes, you don't need an answer - you just need a hug.

Congratulations! You did it! You made it through Christmas and New Year's!

I highly doubt any bereaved person has ever had these words said to them, but today, I say them to all of you. It is tough to be a grieving person during the holidays. It is difficult to see smiling, happy faces that seem to surround you everywhere you go. It can be challenging to spend time with whole families when your own feels utterly broken, but you did it.

I really loved this week's podcast with Gwen. When she suggested this topic, I have to admit, I was a little hesitant. I had made it through the holidays. I wasn't sure I really wanted to go back and do a recap, but it turns out, it was very healing to revisit how things went over the past month. I certainly remembered the challenges, but this podcast helped me think about my successes as well.

This was our 6th holiday season without Andy, and each one has been unique. We were home for Christmas for the first time and did far more of our 'normal' Christmas traditions. This year, attending church was far more difficult than other Christmases have been. The present opening part of Christmas, on the other hand, was probably the most fun one yet with far more smiles than tears. Talking with Gwen on the podcast this week helped me realize that I can feel a bit of pride for everything that I was able to do, even if sometimes I still shook with sobs. Tears are not signs of failure; they are a healthy emotional release.

As you listen to the podcast this week, I invite you to look back on your own holiday season. You may have done all of your normal family traditions. You may have done none of your normal family traditions. You may have been at home with a few people. You may have attended big family gatherings. It doesn't really matter how you spent your time - you made it through. You are still breathing. You are still getting out of bed in the morning. Congratulate yourself. Celebrate. Take a deep breath. You deserve it.

When Suzanne's son, Lorenzo, was a little boy, he told his family that when he grew up, he would be a police officer. He even drew a picture of himself as a policeman. After finishing high school, he instead studied computers and looked to follow in his dad's footsteps. Then, one day, when Lorenzo was in his mid-twenties, he surprised his mom with a phone call. 'Mama Bear,' he said, 'I need to talk to you.' Suzanne responded by asking if she should be worried. 'Maybe a little bit, Mama Bear,' he replied, but it's OK.' Lorenzo shared that he couldn't work behind a desk any longer. He needed to help people and become a police officer.

Although Suzanne was a little worried, she was also so proud of her son. She knew that he would be an amazing addition to the police force. He loved helping others. in his soul, Suzanne said that he was born to be a lover of people. She says that no one ever loved her as deeply as Lorenzo did. It was so fun to talk to her about their amazing relationship and about how, above all else, Lorenzo wanted to take care of his 'Mama Bear.' It reminded me a little bit about Andy, his big, loving heart, and the way he always insisted that he 'loved me more' despite my protests.

Shortly after Lorenzo realized his dream of becoming a police officer, however, he suffered a tragic accident when he was cleaning his gun. His gun discharged and he shot an artery in his leg. Although he was able to call for help, it was too late. Amid this tragedy, Suzanne saw that Lorenzo's community loved him just as much as he loved them. Officers stood at attention at every freeway exit in southern California as the car carrying his body drove by. Thousands honored her sweet, loving Lorenzo.

As we talked, I began to wonder if our two 'boys' somehow brought us together. I imagine a proud Andy telling everyone in heaven about his mom and her podcast, and Lorenzo thinking the podcast might be a good idea for his 'Mama Bear' to help her heal. When Suzanne emailed me, she wrote that I was her 'angel' who 'saved' her, but I'm pretty sure the 'angel' was actually Lorenzo setting things in motion.

Christmas Day was always Mary's favorite day of the year and 2020 was no different. She was happy as she watched through the window as her husband made snow angels outside with their grandson. The day seemed perfect despite the fact that her son, Zach had been unable to come home to Indiana from where he was living near his dad in Texas.

When Mary's husband came inside, he commented that he had missed numerous phone calls from Mary's ex-husband. Mary immediately panicked, knowing that something must be wrong with Zach. However, never in a million years would Mary have thought that her ex-husband would tell her the devastating news that Zach was dead. He found Zach in his apartment sitting on his couch with his nebulizer machine running. It is now known that Zach died from asthma complications on the evening of December 23rd.

I feel like all bereaved parents struggle with the holidays. As I sat in church for Christmas Eve worship, tears flowed freely as I remembered Christmases past and longed for the days when Andy was with us. These days of joy and celebration do not feel very joyful when we are grieving, but then I think of Mary and others like her - parents whose children died on or around Christmas. It just adds another complicated layer to the grief.

It would be completely reasonable to think that Mary might want to avoid Christmas entirely. She might want to just hide away during the whole Christmas season, but that is not Mary. Mary's faith has been an inspiration since I met her when she joined one of my support groups through Starlight Ministry in February of this year. Despite Mary's own pain, she has been an amazing listening ear and a source of comfort to all of us who are blessed enough to be in a group with her.

After sharing with the group for the past several months, Mary made the decision to share Zach's story on the podcast. When asked if she might want to share Zach's story on the week of Christmas, Mary knew that was perfect timing. Just as Mary's honest presence helps our support group each week, her story will bless each of you as you listen during this hard Christmas week.

45 minutes.

Forty-five minutes does not seem like very much time, but it was a lifetime for Chris and Julie's first child, Faith, and it forever changed Chris and Julie. When the couple excitedly went to Julie's prenatal ultrasound, they first saw beautiful images of their baby but were then given devastating news. Faith was severely ill and doctors did not expect her to survive much longer. The couple was sent home expecting Julie to miscarry soon.

Chris and Julie went home and began to pray. Certainly, they prayed for healing for their baby girl, but more importantly, they prayed that they might be able to meet Faith. Chris and Julie decided to make the most of this time of pregnancy. They talked to Faith, traveled with Faith, and even had a church dedication for Faith all before she was born. Then, at 37 weeks, Faith was born, and through a little miracle, her heart began to beat and her eyes opened. Chris and Julie got to experience the best 45 minutes of their lives, a time that they will remember forever. Then, just like that, the magic was gone. The hospital allowed the couple to spend the night with little Faith, but then the funeral director carried her away, and Chris and Julie had to continue living without their little girl.

Child loss is something that no parent expects. It is an incredibly isolating experience. As Chris and Julie slowly began to heal, they felt God calling them to help others experiencing this pain. They started an amazing organization, Faith45, which has two focus areas. The first is a mentorship program that helps match newly bereaved parents with a peer to walk beside them during their grief journey. They match the newly bereaved parent with a mentor with a similar story whether it be a miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant loss. These mentors work to be the hands and feet of God, offering a listening ear and an understanding voice. The second focus of Faith45 is to offer Faith Boxes to purchase on their website. Each box contains 8-10 items to help newly bereaved parents in their grief journey. Through Faith45, Chris and Julie hope to give a message of hope and healing.

Today's guest, Lorraine's young son, AJ, had a smile that would light up a room. Although a heart murmur had been noted at birth, it was thought to have resolved. He was growing and feeding well, and Lorraine had no idea that serious heart abnormality was worsening. The murmur was again noted after a fall at 7 months of age, and AJ was sent to Cardiology where it was determined that AJ suffered from a condition called aortic stenosis. He was scheduled for a cardiac cath to assess the severity of the stenosis.

On the drive to the hospital that morning, Lorraine turned around and AJ gave her one of his famous smiles. That was one of his last smiles because, during the procedure, young AJ's heart stopped. Despite medical interventions, they were unable to save her sweet boy. To say that AJ's parents were horrified would be a vast understatement. The last thing that Lorraine wanted to do was leave her baby boy in a cold hospital morgue.

This is when Martin House Children's Hospice stepped in. When I think of hospice, I think of organizations that help support families whose loved ones are dying. Martin House certainly does this, but it is so much more. The staff from Martin House came to the hospital to take AJ's little body and keep it cool. They allowed his family to stay with him for a full week until they were ready to put him to rest. They offered grief support to Lorraine and her family for a full year. They were everything Lorraine needed when her whole world was falling apart.

In addition to Martin House, Lorraine began listening to the podcast only one month after AJ's death. She says the parents who told their stories on the podcast became her friends and support system. She felt less alone as she listened and she felt herself ever so slowly begin to heal. Now two years after AJ's death, Lorraine works to help other bereaved parents just as she was helped. She is a resource for Martin House helping them learn more about helping parents and now she shares her own story with Always Andy's Mom listeners so they too know that they are not alone.