Today would have been Hudson’s golden birthday.
Eleven.
I’ve explained what a golden birthday is to each of our kids old enough to understand. Archer has already had her golden birthday (turning 1 on the 1st), but Anson, Maddox, and Marlowe have a ways to wait until theirs.
Anson: “Not only will my 13th birthday be my golden birthday… it will be the year I become a teen. I’ll no longer be a kid, Mom.”
Maddox: “On my 27th golden birthday, I’ll finally be able to introduce you to all my kids in Catland.”
Marlowe: *oblivious and in her own world because imagining what 19 would be like when you’re 4 is simply incomprehensible*
It’s somewhat incomprehensible to me that we have watched eleven momentous years pass without Hudson. And yet, here we are. Stronger despite all our aching parts. Closer to each other, even though there’s forever something someone missing. Proud of the life we have built and of the many ways our kids embody who I believe Hudson would have been while being fiercely themselves.
Twelve summers ago – the summer we should have spent always seeking shade and slathering a newborn in sunscreen and cramming her scrawny limbs into teeny tiny American flag swimsuits and sleeping seldomly but whenever we could – that summer, I sought solace outside and started noticing little white butterflies everywhere. Her first birthday, we celebrated with a butterfly cake (and the good news that we were pregnant with her little brother, THANK GOD). That butterfly a tradition of epic cake creations every year. A butterfly with Hudson’s name on it lives in the hallways at the hospital where she spent the majority of her brief life. Our oldest kids see white butterflies and shout “It’s Hudson!” and often, a chase ensues.
This year, I see butterflies too. And this year, those butterflies are golden.
I’ve never noticed so many Monarch butterflies this time of year, and I have been seeing them everywhere. I’m not sure if it is Hudson’s doing, but that’s what I’m going with.
On my 1st Hudson’s Heroes 5K of the year, I saw two of them dancing in a front yard while I slogged by, and I thought of Hudson and her Grandma Ruth up in Heaven together sparring with quick wits and sly wisdom. I saw another golden-winged butterfly along the side of the small pond at the park that I ran around and thought, “That’s Hudson, she can move wherever she wants and she’s beautiful.” All grown up. Golden.
Naturally, I’ve looked up what monarch butterflies symbolize.
They represent strength, endurance, spirituality, trust, sustaining what they believe, transformation, and evolution. – Well+Good
Monarch butterflies are symbols of change, transformation, and hope. In some cultures, butterflies represent the souls of deceased loved ones. – WikiHow
In some cultures, monarch butterflies are viewed as symbols of transformation, renewal, and hope. In others, they are associated with themes of rebirth and regeneration. – A-Z Animals
I’m sensing a trend, are you? And then there’s this:
According to some sources, a Monarch butterfly in particular is a sign that you are on the right path to achieve your goals. – Save our Monarchs
Something I haven’t captured here – because, I write here once a year these days – is the struggle I’ve had in the last two years figuring out how to be a mom with four kids to raise and a business to run. I am regularly overwhelmed. My fuse is significantly shorter. I have lost my temper with my children in ways I am utterly ashamed of. There are days I am barely keeping it together, and others where I’m admittedly not trying that hard.
And in those moments, on those not-trying-that-hard days, perspective brings me back.
“To create a wonderful world of love and discovery for myself, my husband, and my children.”
My most important value, identified in 2008 before I even married Mr. Whiskers, before I even had an inkling of Hudson, before 4 more momentous human beings joined our family.
When I wrote those words, I was in my 20s and they meant one thing… something aspirational. When I read those words today or recenter on my values in those everyday moments of frustration or apathy, they mean something so much more; something fully integrated into who I am, something everyday, something routine and also something forced and focused.
That value has transformed from something I imagined would be possible to something I can choose to embody every single day, in moments big and small, in the choices I make and the words that come out of my mouth.
And like that value, I’ve transformed in these eleven years without Hudson. Our family has transformed.
Strength
Endurance
Spirituality
Trust
Sustaining what we believe
Transformation
Evolution
Change
Hope
Renewal
Rebirth
Regeneration
You are on the right path to achieve your goals.
Sweet, golden Hudson. You’ve brought out the best in us all.
In our eleven years without you, we’ve become stronger by carrying the weight of losing you and also stronger in how we have bonded together because of you. Our trust in one another and in our ability to endure any obstacle has its impetus in your life, sweet darling.
And hope? Oh girlie, when the devastation of your short life was all I could focus on I still had hope. Because your wonderfulness had been previously unimaginable. What else could there be? What other potentials and possibilities were waiting, if I were only willing to face potential ruin again and again and again. (and again, as it would turn out)
My goal for this year, as I reflect on 11 without you, is to have as much grace in my transformation as you have had in yours. I imagine you growing up and I know that right about now, in some alternate universe where I get to watch you do that, I’d be thinking “when did my baby grow up?” I’d be looking at you and seeing more pre-teen young lady than precocious little girl. I’d be your agent for babysitting jobs. I’d be screaming myself hoarse at sports games and clapping my hands numb at curtain call. And I’d be wondering where the time went.
Of course, I do that anyway. These past eleven years have been overflowing with milestones and memories, experienced without you in some cases but forged because of you in many. You gave us all a gift when you arrived on the scene, my sweet golden Hudson. You gave us the gift of perspective, presence, awareness, purpose, to live fully into the time we get instead of allowing the time to pass in a fugue state.
“To create a wonderful world of love and discovery for myself, my husband, and my children.”
You are on the right path to achieve your goals.
Every birthday of yours has been a celebration, Hudson. And this year, we will be making that celebration golden. Someday I’ll get to tell you to your face the ways I’ve missed you in the time we’ve been apart, I’ll get to hold your sweet face and study it, I’ll get to watch you without you knowing and marvel at all we’ve created and all you’ve become. But until then, I’ll do the same with the life I get to live and the people I get to live it with. I’ll tell my children and my husband to their face how much I miss them when we are apart. I’ll hold their sweet faces and study them. I’ll watch them without their knowing, and marvel at all we’ve created and all they’ve become. I’ll make the years that come even more golden. I’ll create a wonderful world of love and discovery for myself, my husband, and my children.
Today, on your golden birthday, I’m on the right path to achieve my goals.