Friday, November 7, 2014


Once, while Sammy was in treatment, I had to make an appointment with one of my own doctors.

"Date of birth?" the receptionist asked.

Without even thinking, I said, "11-08-05," the dates that I had been reciting multiple times a day since May of 2012. The receptionist was appropriately confused....

Sam's birthdate.

It tripped off my tongue, far more than anyone else's, even my own.

We're all conditioned to answer that birthdate question.
Even Solly can tell you when his birthday is (even though he reminded me last night that he hates when it ISN'T his birthday).

And here we are.

11-08...last year, he wasn't quite up for a party. So I offered three separate birthday playdates with his three besties. And I want "three cakes, Mom" -- he specified for me in his daily journal entry:

Only one of the cakes was ever made.

Sam was born on a Tuesday morning, at about 10am.
I remember the doctor perching on the end of the bed and telling me to push.
I remember wrapping him in a bili-blanket and holding him all night long before his bris.
I remember looking at his sweet little face and believing that all was right with the world.

3,288 days ago.
9 years.

And he'll always be my 8-year-old Sam.

Last year: Little Things
Two years ago: Birthday Boy and Lucky Number Seven


  1. This day has been playing at the edges of my mind all week, and now here it is. May your day be filled with whatever you need from it, despite the fact that you cannot have the one thing you want most. Sending you peace, strength, and love.

  2. wishing you only sweet sweet memories from sweet sammy. the baby pics is so beautiful! thank you for continuing to share with us.

  3. Joining my voice to the chorus of people remembering Sammy today, and every day.

  4. now every day is a birthday, three partys never to be forgotten

  5. Sending you comfort on this especially difficult day.