The world remembers the tragedy of 9/11.
I still remember exactly what I was doing and where I was. I remember the disbelief, the fear, the images on the television, and that strange feeling that the entire world had stopped to hold its breath.
September 11th is a date etched into the hearts and minds of millions.
But in our family, 9/11 carries a deeper grief.
For us, September 11th isn’t only the anniversary of a tragedy that changed our country.
It is also the birthday of an angel.
On September 8, 2021, my niece, MyKayla, went to the doctor expecting to hear the heartbeat of her 37-week-old baby boy.
Instead, she was told there was no heartbeat.Their sweet boy, Tucker Russell Jones, had passed away.
There was no warning. No clear explanation. Just the unbearable reality that a baby who was so close to being welcomed into their arms would never take a breath outside his mother’s womb.
She had heard his heartbeat at her regular OB appointment just days before.
And then suddenly, everything changed.
She was induced on Saturday, September 11th.
Seven hours of labor later, at 8:42 that evening, Tucker was born.
9 pounds, 6 ounces.
20.5 inches long.
Absolutely perfect.
He was born on a day the world was already associated with unimaginable loss.
But for his parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone who loved him, September 11th became something else, too.
It became the day we met him.
The day we held him.
The day we said hello and goodbye at the same time.
There are some kinds of grief that are impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t lived them.
This is one of them.
Because Tucker’s life was short, but it was not insignificant.
He was loved before we ever saw his face.
He was prayed for.
He was anticipated.
He was named.
He was held.
He was a son, a grandson, a nephew, a little brother, and a precious part of our family.
And although we didn’t get the years, the first steps, the birthdays, the Christmas mornings, the laughter, or the countless memories we imagined we would have with him…we got Tucker.
For one precious night, we got to hold that beautiful boy.
And we believe that wasn’t the end of his story.
We believe he went from his mother’s arms into the arms of Jesus.
So every September 11th, the world remembers the lives lost in one of the darkest days in American history.
And we remember, too.
But we also remember Tucker.
We remember his beautiful face.
We remember his tiny body wrapped in a blanket.
We remember a mother who had to endure the unimaginable.
We remember a father whose heart was broken.
We remember his two older siblings, who lost their baby brother before they ever got the chance to know him, hold him, play with him, or make the memories that siblings are supposed to share.
And we remember that sometimes a baby can live for only a moment and still leave a lifetime of love behind.
I wasn’t just there to hear the story afterward.I was there.
I was there when Tucker was born.
And I was one of the few who got to hold him.
I remember looking down at that beautiful little boy, wrapped in his blanket, knowing that he was absolutely perfect—and knowing that we would never get to watch him grow.
There are moments in life that stay frozen in your memory.
That is one of mine.
I was afraid I would break under the unimaginable grief of my niece and her husband when I entered that silent hospital room.
But instead, I was met with a peace I have never forgotten.
I witnessed two of the strongest young people I have ever known, radiating a faith that was stronger than their circumstances.
They were hurting beyond words, yet they trusted God.
They were brokenhearted, yet they held onto their faith.
And witnessing their strength taught me something I will carry with me for the rest of my life as a believer.
I was blessed to be included in Tucker’s birth.
Blessed to witness his arrival.
Blessed to be there for his parents.
And blessed, in a way I will never take for granted, to hold my great-nephew in my arms.
I held Tucker on September 11, 2021.
I held a baby who should have been coming home with his family.
Instead, I held him while we said goodbye.
And that is why September 11th means something entirely different to me now.
The world remembers a day when thousands of lives were lost.
I remember that day, too.
But I also remember Tucker.
I remember the weight of him in my arms.I remember his tiny features.
I remember how perfect he was.
And I remember the overwhelming love I felt for a little boy whose life was measured in hours, but whose place in our family will last forever.
Tucker was here.
He was loved.
He mattered.
And he is still remembered.
September 11th will always be a day the world remembers.
But for me, it will always be the day I held a little boy who should have been going home.
I can still picture him in my arms.
I can still remember how perfect he was.
I can still remember the weight of his little body against me, and the ache of knowing I would never get to hold him again.
I wish I could have watched him grow.
I wish I could have known his laugh, heard him say “Auntie,” watched him love his big siblings, celebrated his birthdays, and made a lifetime of ordinary memories with him.
But I was given one precious memory that no one can ever take away from me.
I got to hold Tucker.I got to look at his beautiful face.
I got to love him.
And for one brief moment, I held a little boy who had already changed our family forever.
His life was measured in hours, but his love cannot be measured in time.
Tucker was here.
He was loved.
He was ours.
And even though we had to let him go, we will spend the rest of our lives remembering that we were blessed to have him—even if only for a little while.
The world lost thousands of precious lives on September 11th.
Our family lost one precious little boy.
And while the world remembers September 11th for the lives that were taken, I will always remember it for the little life I was blessed to hold.
I will remember his face.
I will remember his weight in my arms.
I will remember the silence of that room.
I will remember the faith of his parents.
I will remember the love that surrounded him.
And I will remember that for one brief, sacred moment, I held my great-nephew, Tucker Russell Jones, in my arms.
He should have been coming home with us.
Instead, we carried him in our hearts.
And we will carry him there for the rest of our lives.
Until we meet again, sweet Tucker.
You were loved from the very beginning.
You are loved still.And you always will be.
Ebbs & Flows 