I need to share something that's been my whole world since I last wrote..
On April 3rd, my wife and I learned that our son Gryffin Wilder’s little heartbeat had stopped due to cord complications. It’s been the most devastating news of our lives.
We were stunned, heart broken, shattered. We cried harder than we’ve ever cried. This wasn't supposed to happen to us. You never think you're the one.
He was 7 pounds 11 ounces, 21 inches long, with a thick head of wavy brown hair. Ten perfect fingers and toes, sweet little nails, a small chin like his brother, and a beautiful birthmark on his left hip like his sister, his mom, and his grandma. Full term. Hair, eyelashes, and everything.
In the past, when someone I knew lost someone, I'd reach for the same words we all reach for: "Life is so fragile.” or "My condolences." or "I'm so sorry."
I meant them, but I don't think I understood them until now.
We chose Gryffin because it means protector. We know he's in heaven now, watching over us. Wilder is taken from Dr. Jim Wilder, whose guidance has transformed our relationship. Put together.. a protector, named for a man who taught us how to love each other better. That's who our son is.
From the moment we learned my wife was pregnant, Fin filled our hearts with joy and anticipation. The hopes and dreams. The version of our family that had him in it.
I never got to hold him the way I'd pictured. There was no first cry, no tiny hand around my finger, no watching him grow into his name.
But he was ours and he always will be.
The waves, and the peace underneath
The past two weeks have come in waves. Hopeless despair. Numb, hollow stretches. Anger. Back to sadness. The pendulum was fast in the beginning. All the feelings, all the time.
We've had to keep reminding ourselves of what we know. Fin is in heaven. He went from life to eternal life, and he's known no tears, sadness, or evil. Only our love, and now God's love. We'll see him again in heaven.
Even when we don't understand why this happened, we trust that God is with us, that there's a reason and a purpose and a plan for our lives, even in the hardest things.
The knowing doesn't stop the waves. But over the past two weeks, we've walked through the grief into a peace that can only be described as the kind that passes all understanding. Losing a child is one of the most tragic losses a human can experience. We shouldn't be functioning. But we are.
Both things are true at once. The waves are real and the peace is real.
The community that carried us
We wouldn't have gotten here without our community.
The nurses and staff at the hospital were extraordinary on the hardest day of our lives. I can't say enough about how sweet they were with us in a terrible moment.
Our closest friends have been in it with us day in and day out. Making meals, cleaning our house, coordinating the chaos, taking my car in for inspection, dropping off coffee at the door. Small things and big ones. Our families have shown up the way families are supposed to show up and more.
The texts, the Instagram messages, the Facebook comments, the LinkedIn messages. Every one has been read and felt. We're still trying to respond. Some days it's hard to do anything, so if you haven't heard back yet, please know it's not because it didn't land. It did.
The StealthX team has carried the business while I've been mostly absent, and they've done it with zero ask and total love. If you want to know what a great team looks like, that's it.
And Jordyn, she’s the strongest person I've ever known. She delivered our son on April 4th and has shown up for our other kids, for me, and for Fin's memory every day since. I don't have better words for it than that.
Community is beautiful. I've used that phrase a lot this month. I mean it.
What Fin has taught us
We're grateful to have experienced Fin for a brief time on earth, and we look forward to the day we see him in heaven. His life was short, but it means something. It has already left an indelible mark on ours, and we're trusting and believing it will keep making an impact in ways we can't see yet.
A few things we want to pass along, as simply as we can put them:
Hold your family close. Take in the small moments. Be present. Be intentional.
Lean on God. His peace and love will carry you through the hardest times.
Show up for people even when it's uncomfortable. It means more than you know.
When you don't know what to do and all hope seems lost, do the next right thing. I had those words tattooed on my arm this week. They're what's been holding us.
Wrapping up
Some close friends set up a GoFundMe to support our family through this. Others have signed up to bring meals. The generosity has been humbling, and we're grateful beyond words to everyone who already has.
And if you know someone who's been through a loss, forward this note to them and reach out to them. Most people who've lost a baby carry it quietly because nobody asks.
I'm coming back to work slowly. This note is me starting. The podcast will return. The bigger updates I've been promising will come.
But I'm coming back different.
Gryffin, we'll do everything we can to honor you, to love each other fiercely, and to live in a way that would make you proud.
And today, please, pause. Hold your people close. Tell them you love them. Tell them again tomorrow.
Rest in peace, Fin. We love you, we miss you, and we'll see you again.
Onward & upward,
Drew ❤️