I had a family. Four beautiful children, two boys, two girls. An open home filled with guests all the time. A wonderful relationship with my parents and siblings. A hard working husband. Enough money to pay the bills. Health. My life felt so perfect. So complete.

Then my world suddenly caved in.

My talented husband was being transferred down to Florida and I looked forward to building a new, fun life for our family and being closer to my father and grandmother. We were knee deep in packing tape and boxes as the school year was coming to an end. The Sunday before our big move we took a break from the packing and traveled to Chicago for a close friend’s wedding.

The baby got a little fever and started crying on Sunday afternoon as I shopped for a dress for my older daughter to wear that night. I was worried that he might have an ear infection. Some baby Motrin took care of his pain and he fell asleep. He was resting so deeply and comfortably that I left him at my sisters house while we went to the wedding instead of dressing him up and taking him along. We came home well past midnight. He was asleep in the pack n play. I couldn’t sleep very well; he was making noises that sounded as if he was having a bad dream.

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