Levi's Legacy

This is a picture of all 3 of my children at their last well-child visits in April.  (Levi was definitely smothered with big-sister love). Dear American Academy of Pediatrics members,  I want to start by saying I love and respect my children’s pediatrician very much. My husband is an anesthesiologist, and I have many friends who are pediatricians. I believe in the medical community’s impact in both big and small ways.  As an English teacher, I depend on the National Council of Teachers of English, my state standards, and other national and state resources to help me prioritize what I teach. My husband is an anesthesiologist, and he depends on the American Society of Anesthesiologists to help guide him as a physician. Pediatricians across the country depend on the AAP to provide them with research-based guidelines and information to share with parents. Parents, in turn, depend on those pediatricians to guide them as they navigate parenting: from advising parents

My introduction (on FB)  to my son's eulogy:   The reality is that I have spent more time planning play-dates than the time I had to plan my son’s funeral. I just knew I wanted, needed it to be meaningful for this boy we loved so much. When we met with the priest on Thursday, I told him I would be reading the eulogy. I mean, I hadn’t written it, yet, but I knew I would be writing it and I would be the one to share the words. It didn’t even cross my mind that it could be any other way. I am his mama: he is my baby. I shared about my boy yesterday at his funeral service. I I have a family blog where I have always posted about my kids, our adventures, their tantrums, our joy, and mayhem. I’m sharing his eulogy on this blog now, because I want Levi’s life, and not just his death, to be known.  The song, “The Best Day,” by Taylor Swift, has been such a special part of my life with my kids. I have shared so many cuddles and tender moments with them while singing this so

Yesterday was hard.  I kept thinking: “But, I made this website. Why is Levi STILL not here?” Did I think that if I worked hard to create this website and to ca rry out this idea, that maybe it would reverse the last 3 weeks? I think in the deepest part of my heart, I did. It is hard to admit this, because it sounds... well, crazy and pathetic. But, in my subconscious, I must have felt like I needed to FIGHT for him. Since his life ended so abruptly, so tragically, I didn’t have the chance to work to save him.  I found him, jumped in, pulled him out. But, then I got out of the way. All 6 of the fathers (including my own husband) were physicians, so I knew to move over. I have never witnessed such desperation. They fought physically, mentally, and emotionally to save him. If Levi could have been saved by skill, effort, and love, he would still be here. But, I didn’t perform CPR, didn’t call 9-1-1, didn’t DO anything to fight FOR him. Carrying out this idea has been m

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I can’t ever sleep anymore. But, last night was different- I was not reliving his final moments over and over or wondering how I  would ever see M&M’s and not want to burst into tears.  Last night, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that people are SUPPORTING this idea. You are buying the tags! You are donating! You are sharing! I was in tears when I saw the first orders going through the site yesterday. I couldn’t believe it. You are telling me that you are grandmother who lives on the lake and just bought a tag. You are telling me that you are a mom of small boys or a babysitter or a camp counselor. You are telling me you will wear the tag and you will tell others about Levi.  I want to personally reply to each one of you. If you bought a tag (or several!), or donated or shared, I saw your name. Even in this darkest of all times, I see light in each one of you who is supporting us and reaching out to us and believing in  # levislegacy . Pl

Everywhere I turn, someone- a family member, a close friend, an acquaintance, a stranger- is asking what they can do.  Here is my answer: Tell people, especially caretakers of young children- that drowning happens in seconds. Tell them that drowning happens when kids have access to water (pools, oceans, streams, ponds) EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT SWIMMING. Tell them that there is no alternative to supervision when it comes to water safety. Tell them to designate a “Water Guardian.” Tell them about Levi. www.levislegacy.com 

I hate the universe.  I am questioning every single part of faith and goodness and purpose. How can there be a plan where a cherished 3 year old is snatched from his family? How can a life end in an instant? Why would this baby be ripped from our family, leaving an emptiness that can never be filled? How can I ever love, again, when I now know that tragedy may always be lurking right around the corner?  I miss him. I miss his FUTURE: taking him to the first day of Pre3 this year, choosing a Halloween costume, learning to ride a bike.  I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to do laundry or get milk for Reese. I don’t want to make a waffle for Lily. I don’t want to go to Target to buy paper towels. But, I do, because every second is a choice. There are moments I have to actually say out loud: “I am choosing to open the dishwasher right now.” Choosing to get up. Choosing to breathe. Choosing to live purposefully in the midst of tragedy.  If crying in

Grief. Here is how grief looks in my day, how it ebbs and flows and pierces and punches.  Waking up is painful. Thankfully, I dream of Levi- he is always in my subconscious, so when I wake up, I’m not startled that he isn’t here. But, the mornings are always difficult, because each day is one away from when I last saw him, carried him, ran my fingers through his hair and commented “how do you need a haircut, AGAIN, buddy?” The day promises (threatens?) to bring new adventures that he will never know. Mornings are hard.  Most of the day is spent, well, living. We have been blessed beyond measure to have so much family support and time with them. We did “normal” vacation things last week, like go out to eat and wash sand off of our feet, but they felt anything but normal. And, there has still been laundry and my girls fighting and one of them is always hungry. So, days are filled mostly with... just... life. But, the entire time, I’m hearing his commentary in my head

Last Labor Day weekend, the kids and I stayed in Chattanooga for a night. They were thrilled about: the indoor pool, going to the grocery store to get ice cream pints to keep in our tiny mini freezer in the room, watching actual cable (not just Netflix), riding this luggage cart down the hallway to the pool. I didn’t even let Levi in the hallway without thinking ahead about water safety. Water safety was not something I ever took lightly. Did you know, though, that 69% of dro wning victims weren’t expected to be in the water (non swimming situations), yet were found in water? Did you know that 77% of victims were out of sight for five minutes or less? Did you know that nearly 80% of drowning victims are male? I didn’t know, and I hate that I had to learn this the hard way, the worst way possible. I’m so angry at the Universe. How have I read hundreds and hundreds of parenting magazines, books, and blogs and NEVER ONCE was I warned about drowning when not swimming. Drowning

I’ve always loved words. Even Dumbledore told us that words are our most inexhaustible source of magic. It makes sense that in this darkest, most unimaginable time in my life, I’m finding comfort in words. If you have reached out to me, in a message or comment, or through a friend or family member, please know that I find comfort in your words. People are so afraid, that they won’t know what to say. But, here is what I have learned: nothing is wrong when it comes from a genuine place of the heart. If you are even slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing, then you haven’t. Give me all of the words. Say Levi’s name. I promise nothing is going to make me more sad than I already am. Don’t second guess your words to me.  As my friends all know, documenting is also vital to my life, particularly remembering and reflecting and celebrating life through WORDS. Each of my three babies has a notebook with notes and letters written to them. I have Levi’s book- recorded snippets and

Last night, we watched fireworks from the back deck of a restaurant. Reese wasn’t expecting them, and when she heard them exploding, she ran over, mesmerized. As the first ones lit up the sky, she said, matter-of-factly and even excitedly: “Those are from Levi! He is sending those to us right now!” I felt it was fitting, because of course he would be sending us something loud and potentially dangerous.  💥  I am on guard constantly around the girls, ready to respond if they ment ion his name. But, then I panic, wanting to immediately react, to reassure them, to validate their thoughts. I am learning (add this to the ever growing list of things I never, ever wanted to learn) to give them space- to just stand and while they try to articulate what their confused little hearts are trying to say.  Reese stood, delighted by each one. She was truly soaking up this gift from her baby brother. Her precious voice (she has the sweetest voice, most gentle little spirit)

Two years ago, when Reese turned 3, we took the girls to Build-a-Bear in Destin. We promised we would go, again, the summer when Levi was 3. We have been talking about this trip to Build-a-Bear for weeks, and we were excited to let Levi get to make one. We knew he would choose a Paw Patrol character. Lily was going to help him stuff it, and Reese was going to show him how to make a wish on the heart. I mean, the reality is that he would have carried it around for ten minutes  and then promptly forgotten about it, but Build-a-Bear is really about the experience, so we just had to let him create this memory. Plus, the girls loved each time he was old enough for a new milestone. Lily was his real Mom, and Reese thrived anytime she got to play the role of wise big sister.  Today was the day, and I was sad. I wasn’t bawling (not even crying) or overwhelmed with grief; I was just simply sad. There were moments of happiness- watching Reese pick up each animal and really deb