Timothy 2015-2017
Grace's Story
My mother raised me on her own in Bullhead City. Growing up in that small town, all I wanted was to be a missionary and spend my life helping people. In my twenties, I spent nearly a decade traveling the world. I saw poverty up close. I held the hands of children who were starving. I started an English school in Peru and helped new immigrants in Israel. If you’d asked me then where I thought I’d grow old, I couldn’t have told you. But I was sure I’d still be a missionary.
Then my Peruvian boyfriend died suddenly in a bus accident. I came home to Bullhead to be with my mother. She was getting older, and after losing someone I loved so suddenly, I wanted to be near her. I started teaching at a local charter school. After all those years away, it never occurred to me that I’d meet my husband in the little town where I grew up. But that’s where I found him.
We married in 2014, and on December 17, 2015, our son Timothy was born at home with the help of a midwife. I was 35 years old. He had these beautiful blue and brown eyes and, his little laugh lit up the whole room. He was perfect.
Life with Timothy was so much fun. I called him my travel buddy, we went on lots of adventures, but one of the moments I remember most clearly was just an ordinary car ride. I was sitting beside him in the back seat, looking at my little boy. It was only a few weeks before the worst day of our lives. I think about that moment often, and I’m so glad I said out loud what I felt. I looked at Timothy and said to my husband, “What a beautiful life we have.”
Timothy's Story
Timothy was born on December 17, 2015. He was the most beautiful Christmas present I could have asked for. I could have looked into those blue and brown eyes forever. He was curious and kindhearted, and he had the best laugh. What I wouldn’t give to hear that laugh one more time.
I called him my “travel buddy.” He could fly for free until he turned two, so we went on as many adventures as we could. We didn’t let anything stop us. He was all boy, just as happy outside playing with rocks and trucks. I miss those ordinary days with him as much as I miss our adventures.
We got to spend two Christmases, two Easters, and two Mother’s Days together. I would make a print of his little foot and write down the date. I thought I’d do that every year, and someday I’d give him a book so he could see how much he’d grown. We went all out for his first birthday, at the time I thought there would be so many more.
Timothy was just 18 months old when he stopped breathing. He hadn’t even started talking yet. They revived him in Bullhead and flew him by helicopter to Sunrise Children’s Hospital in Las Vegas. During exploratory surgery, the doctors discovered that a birth defect had caused his intestines to twist. Timothy never recovered from that first loss of oxygen. We spent four and a half months in the hospital with him. His condition kept getting worse, and he passed away.
Losing Timothy shattered every piece of my heart. The one comfort I had was knowing that his pain was over and he could finally rest. I’m so thankful I got to be his mother. I’m thankful for every adventure, every laugh, every day I had with him. And I grieve for all the things I thought we’d get to do together. I wanted to hear what he would say when he started talking. I wanted to celebrate his second birthday. I wanted to hand him that book of footprints. I wanted to see my little boy grow up.
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Life After...
I was barely pregnant with Kathryn when Timothy went into the hospital. For four and a half months, I sat beside my little boy, missing him even though he was right there. I couldn’t do anything to make him better. I didn’t want to eat or drink, but I was carrying his little sister, and she needed me to eat. So I ate for her. Before I ever got to hold Kathryn, she gave me a reason to keep going. I believe she saved my life.
I sobbed every day of that pregnancy. I had to bury Kathryn’s big brother before she ever got to meet him. He was supposed to grow up with her and look out for her. I worried she could feel my grief and would come into the world carrying it. Then she was born, and she was pure sunshine. The day I first held her was the first day I didn’t spend the whole day crying.
Thousands of people followed Timothy’s story through my Facebook Live updates. When I came home, I wanted to give something back to the community that had stood by us. In 2019, I started Make Bullhead Better. What began with interviews around town grew into a nonprofit with community events and monthly food distributions. On the days I couldn’t bear to sit alone with my grief, helping someone else gave me a reason to get out of the house.
In 2020, we welcomed Alyse, our second daughter, at home. She’s feisty and fierce, knows her own mind, and loves to help. I grew up as an only child, and I’m so thankful Kathryn and Alyse have each other. I wish they’d had the chance to know their big brother.
Time has softened some of the hurt. Timothy’s birthday and the anniversary of his death still hurt. Sometimes I see a child born the same year as Timothy and wonder how tall my little boy would be now, or what sports he'd like.
That’s why these bags mean so much to me. Even with thousands of people following Timothy’s story, there were days in that hospital when I felt so alone. Someone gave me a bag while I was there with him, and I still remember what it meant to me. In the middle of those long days when all I could think about was my little boy, someone had thought of me, too. That’s how I know how special these bags can be. I want another parent sitting beside their child to feel that same kindness.
Is there a beautiful life after losing a child? Yes. I see it every day in my girls. I still miss Timothy, and I always will. If I can sit beside another parent who misses their child, maybe, for a little while, they’ll feel less alone.