Next Sunday, May 3rd is Riley’s birthday and the anniversary of his death. It feels like a countdown. I am already very uncomfortable knowing it is coming. There are a boat load of good memories of raising Riley. Eighteen years worth to be exact. Yet I cannot seem to be able to reach them all yet. It is like my brain has put up a road block that says you can’t handle them all at this time. I’m not pushing it. I can wait. They are there to be reflected on for the rest of my life. I’ll let my brain take it’s time.

On a summer day in 1995 while watching my 5-year-old and 3-year-old in the play pool in our backyard, I had a thought. The thought continued as I smiled content while they sat at their plastic table on the patio dripping wet from the pool eating the lunch I had made for them. The thought percolated for the rest of the day even when I was saying, “Do not draw on that table!” “Give it back to your brother.” Even while I was thinking Why do I bother to shut the door as Braden laid on the bathroom floor talking through that gap between door and floor saying, “Mom. Mom. Mom.” That night after our dinner for four, after tucking the kids into their beds,  after we had covered our day’s events, I took a deep breath looked at Greg and blurted it out, “Can we have one more?”

Three children instead of two sounded good. The two children we had brought into this world were perfect one girl, one boy, yet when I thought about family holidays in the future, I pictured the more the merrier. We needed more grandchildren to spoil and to climb into our laps. I was still young, the kids were still young yet I was thinking ahead. Three children sounded good.

Greg’s reply was, “Wait, What?, Whoa…Hmm, OK.” Ok I really don’t remember what he said but it was probably a conversation that had a Wait, a What? a Whoa followed by some thought and a whole-hearted agreement. I think that process of thinking on his part didn’t take any longer than mine. It sounded right to both of us to have one more.

I decided that if I could have my wish, I would deliver before the heat of an Arizona summer. I knew I would be happy with a boy or a girl but from the start I imagined a boy. We believed God had a plan if it would happen, the timing if it did, and the sex of the child. We asked God for a healthy child. Greg and I started trying for one more.

I found out I was pregnant while Greg and the kids were in Oregon visiting his family. I couldn’t wait til he got home to tell him so I told him over the phone. It was meant to be. He was excited. I was excited. The kids were excited. There would be dinner for five now. We started preparing for one more.

When I was pregnant with Bria, I imagined delivering a chubby blonde boy who was like his Dad.  Bria was a gorgeous baby girl with rose bud lips and big blue eyes. Braden was a handsome baby boy with a full head of dark hair and an easy sweet demeanor. We decided that the baby’s name would be Riley if it were a boy or a girl. We were going to have one more.

Riley Reed Peterson was delivered at 9:30 pm after my water breaking hours before with a rush to the hospital only to find out we weren’t even close. After some time, they induced me. As Greg sat by my side holding my hand while watching a Phoenix Sun’s playoff basketball game, the contractions got closer and the grip of my hand in his got tighter.  In due time, I delivered my smallest baby in size of 7 lbs 7 oz with dark hair and a loud cry. He was perfect. We had one more.

We welcomed Riley into our lives with tears of joy and pride. We said goodbye to Riley with the same tears of pride and joy for having had one more.

I Love You, Riley.