Tonight's picture was taken on Mattie's seventh and last birthday. Mattie celebrated his birthday twice that year. This actual party was held at the Hospital in the childlife playroom on April 4, 2009. Several of Mattie's closest friends attended and as you can see Jenny and Jessie (Mattie's art therapists) created a super card for Mattie, with pictures of roaches on the front. As many of my readers know, Mattie loved things that were creepy and crawling, and Mattie was known to scare his nurses with all sorts of fake bugs. In fact, on the ceiling of the Lombardi Clinic at the Georgetown University Hospital is an enormous roach that Mattie painted on a ceiling tile. Though Mattie is gone from this world, his artist humor remains with us for other children to see and appreciate.
Quote of the day: Often we wonder in our grief what is gained by our belief? Although night, and morning we pray, still our joys are swept away. And loved ones we would keep, with the dead are called to sleep. None is wise enough to say why the wicked seem to stay, and the beautiful and good leave before we think they should. But if death seemed always just, soon in God we’d cease to trust. If for evil, death were meant as a bitter punishment; should the wicked only die, then heaven we seek on high. Having none we long to see would a fearful religion be. It is only by belief we are comforted in grief; it is only by our trust that the God we love is just. That we bear divinely planned. Grief’s we cannot understand. ~ Edgar Guest
To everyone who wrote on Facebook, sent us emails, shared a story with me, and donated to the Foundation today, we THANK YOU! We received emails from family, friends, and the heads of both Mattie's preschool and the St. Stephen's and St. Agnes School (where Mattie completed kindergarten). We received incredibly generous donations from friends today, who do not want to be named, but who wanted to honor Mattie by contributing to the Foundation on his birthday. Mattie's kindergarten buddy, Campbell, also donated to the Foundation today in honor of their friendship. I found that SO touching. It was a hard day, and a day which makes me feel further removed from reality. Which is why your emails made a big difference to me.
I started my day at Virginia Hospital Center (VHC). I had a mammogram scheduled. That may sound like a strange thing to schedule on your child's birthday, but for me, visiting VHC made sense. VHC is where Mattie was born and also where he was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma. Nine years ago today, I was at VHC, and something pulled me back there. VHC is a very efficient and well run hospital, and basically I was in and out of the facility within 25 minutes. After my hospital visit, I headed to Roosevelt Island. A favorite place for Mattie.
I must admit, I have never walked the Island alone. I typically do not like walking in more desolate areas alone, but today was an extraordinary weather day. It was in the upper 70s, which was UNUSUAL, considering it has been freezing for the past two weeks, and tomorrow the cold returns. It was only today which was special and glorious. There were SO many people walking about on Roosevelt Island, it was hard to believe it was a Monday, and not a weekend day. I brought to the Island, one packet of Forget Me Not seeds. I typically like to plant seven packets in honor of Mattie's seven years in our lives. But because Peter wasn't with me, I decided to only plant one packet, and we will do the rest this weekend when he returns from Africa.
I found a spot on the Island, right near the water, and the crinkly hedge apple tree that Mattie loved, to plant the seeds. I planted them at the base of this tree shown in the photo. The tree is in a more secluded part of the Island, but a part that Mattie loved to visit, to climb on rocks, and to run along the sandy beach nearby.
My friend and colleague, Denise, wrote to me and encouraged me to be open to signs from Mattie today. Her comment registered with me. Sure enough I received three signs from Mattie along my Island journey. The first sign was the sighting of this beautiful Great Blue Heron. Mattie and I loved watching herons together. Great Blues are huge and yet so graceful and watching them walk through the water to catch fish to eat is a sight to see. I watched this particular bird for several minutes.
Along the boardwalk, I photographed these cedar knobs. Mattie loved this tree and the shoots that it gave off. To us, these knobs looked just like knees. 
As I continued walking along, I heard something moving along side me. I couldn't see anything at first. But I just stopped walking and continued to wait for a sighting that matched the sound. Sure enough, I found a family of snakes. So this was the second sign from Mattie to me! Mattie would have been beside himself with delight. I HATE snakes with a passion, but I did stop to photograph this colorful fellow, because in a way this snake was sending me a Mattie message.
Though I did not share Mattie's interest in snakes, we both loved ducks. They were my third Mattie sign! The ducks were out in full force today on the Island. 
I spent the day by myself. On difficult days like today, I would imagine some people cry. I know Peter did at various points in the day. There are times I wish I could do this, but on highly stressful days I retreat emotionally and brace for the worst. I carry my stress and grief internally. It is only days later after the let down of the day is behind me, will my true emotions come out. I did venture out with Kristen tonight for dinner. As my readers know, Kristen was Mattie's oncologist and our friend. She did not want me to spend the day alone, so I met her in Maryland. Since it was a beautiful weather day, we had dinner outside and sitting on my chair awaiting me were 9 glorious red tulips (9 to celebrate Mattie's 9th birthday). As you can see in this picture. Red was Mattie's favorite color, and it has always been my favorite as well. Kristen and I chatted about all sorts of things from cancer, foundation work, to friendship. Kristen and I have a lot in common, and we are both sentimentalists at heart. I think our interactions with each other at the hospital were bound to lead to friendship.As I promised this weekend, below you will find the letter I wrote to Mattie, which was on display during his celebration of life service on October 10, 2009. Within the letter I share the events around Mattie's birth. A story he LOVED hearing. I hope you enjoy it as well.
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My Dearest Mattie,
It is said that parents love their children right from the moment they are born. However, in your case, our love for you began as soon as we learned we were going to have a baby. In fact, right after seeing your sonogram picture, we felt like proud parents. We posted those pictures everywhere. We shared these pictures with practically anyone who would listen or showed interest, and each September when I taught prenatal development in my undergraduate human development class, out would come your sonogram pictures to illustrate my points. Even my students got a sneak peek at our baby, a baby who would have a profound and meaningful impact on not just his parents but also every community he touched. Daddy and I did not only love you, we FELL IN LOVE with you, and that love grew stronger with each day. Your energy, spirit, love for life, intellectual challenges, sense of humor, and loyalty to your friends and family were only some of the wonderful traits we always admired in you.
This video is a tribute to you and your wonderful, yet short life. It seems fitting as we celebrate you, and say good-bye to your physical presence that I share the story about how you entered the world. The story of your birth had to be one of your most favorite stories to hear, and I found during times when you were reflective, overly tired, or in need of hugs and tenderness, the request for this story arose. In fact, I remember on August 5th, the day we found out that your cancer metastasized everywhere, you and I were sitting in the hospital’s rose garden, and you requested the story. It was almost as if you knew this was going to be a bad day, so in essence we might as well brace ourselves, cuddle, and prepare for this together.
Here is the story I always shared with you. A story Daddy and I will never forget. On April 2, 2002, at 11pm, I decided to head to bed. I was anxiously awaiting your birth, and as your due date approached, I couldn’t help but wonder, when will “the baby” be coming? I was restless and uncomfortable, so while in bed, I began to watch television. I was having trouble concentrating on what I was hearing, mainly because you were kicking up a storm inside of me. At which point, the kicking became so intense, that I literally felt something pop. You clearly wanted OUT, and you were going to kick your way into the world on your terms. Naturally after feeling this pop, I looked down at my tummy, and when I jumped out of bed, I realized my water had broken. This only happens to 25% of moms, and in retrospect, I should have guessed that this was just the beginning of how different our lives were going to be together. I immediately called the doctor and told her what happened. She asked if I was in pain, which I wasn’t, and she instead told me to get a good night’s rest, because my baby was going to be born the following day. Well I can assure you after hearing this news, sleeping was the farthest thing from our minds.
So on April 3, 2002, Daddy and I headed to the hospital and we were admitted to the maternity unit at 8am. The labor process began, but it was a VERY slow process for me, and at times as you moved inside my tummy, Daddy could see your head pushing against my backbone. Needless to say Dr. Mike, the anesthesiologist, became my favorite doctor that day. The hours kept rolling by, and still there was NO sign of our baby! I was getting weaker, I developed an 102 fever, and by 11pm I really had no energy to give birth to you. In addition, to how I was feeling, your oxygen supply was getting cut off, and your chin was positioned in such a way that would make the birthing process almost impossible. So it was at that point that the doctor recommended an emergency c-section. Things began to happen very quickly around me. I was signing paperwork for surgery and Daddy was being transformed by putting on a bunny suit so he could enter the operating room.
I had never been in an operating room before in my life, but I really wasn’t concerned at that point about myself. I was solely focused upon you. I was wide-awake for the c-section, but unable to see the process, which as you know, was probably a good thing. Daddy on the other hand found the whole thing very exciting, and began to videotape and take pictures of the surgery. Literally a team of people surrounded me and I will never forget Dr. Mike, the anesthesiologist who sat by my side, and talked with me and did whatever he could to keep me pain free.
When you have a c-section, your arms are strapped to the operating table, so I couldn’t move, and directly over my head was what appeared to be a rope with a clamp that was holding open my abdominal cavity. Normally by this point I would have passed out, but when it came to you, I developed strength I never knew I had. As the doctor began cutting, and finally got to you, the first thing she said was, “what is this?” That is NOT what you typically hope to hear when having a c-section. The doctor let me know that I had a grapefruit sized tumor on my bladder, and my immediate thought was, did this affect the baby? The next thing I knew, I felt her tugging, and I heard the loudest cry ever. Now here is the part of the story that I know was always your FAVORITE! I would always try to replicate the sound I heard coming from you that day, a sound that will always remain in a parent’s ear. It was a very large WAAHHH! WAAHHH! At which point the doctor told us two things: first, that you were one of the most beautiful babies she had ever seen, and second, that you had quite a set of lungs on you! I concurred with both statements.
The doctor then brought you over to me, and she felt that I needed to be the first person to touch you. So despite my arms strapped to the table, my right hand miraculously reached out and grabbed your tiny, soft, and cute foot. It was a moment I will always cherish, a moment in which I will never forget, and a moment I am so happy you too enjoyed hearing about. Each time I retold the story I felt as if it further bonded us together, and I always enjoyed hearing your comments, thoughts, and reactions to your story.
Seeing you made Daddy very happy! Though he was worried about me, since after the c-section, I had to have bladder surgery to remove the tumor, we both agreed that Daddy should stay with you and accompany you to the nursery. It is there that Daddy got to see you cleaned up, he learned that you weighed 6 pounds and 13 ounces, and that you had high Apgar scores of 8 and 9. Within an instant, Daddy became one of your fiercest protectors, and he cared for you for five days straight while we were in the hospital together. In fact, Daddy is the first person who changed your diaper, and though those were five very challenging days in the hospital, they were days that helped us form our strong family ties. Ties that were imperative and that we relied on for seven years of your life!
Your presence is so greatly missed. Nothing seems the same, is the same, looks, feels, or tastes the same without you in our lives. May you always know that Mommy and Daddy love you, cherish you, and that feeling will remain with us forever and always. Good-bye my Mooshi Moo angel and goodbye Daddy’s best buddy. With love from Una Moon and Daddy!
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I would like to end tonight's posting with four powerful messages. The first one is from my mom:
The Sadness of April 4th by Virginia R. Sardi
It was the happiest of days once in another lifetime. The birth of Mattie on April 4, 2002 was a momentous event and I can remember the joy of welcoming him into our family with open arms. Watching Vicki interact with Mattie from the moment he was born was to witness the bonding of two like minded spirits destined to connect with each other deeply and spiritually, always on the same wave length. Unfortunately it was to end too soon. Yesterday, while walking on the track in the Burbank Hills, I met a little girl who plays softball with her team. I have seen her on a number of occasions because I walk and she plays softball at about the same time. She is about the age Mattie would have been if he had lived roughly 9 years old. She is engaging and quite social for her age and she ran to the fence separating her from the track to greet me. Her father was nearby and after he saw our interaction, he introduced her to me and I introduced myself. Her name is Olivia and she at once brought back Mattie’s memory to me in a flash. I thought, he should be playing ball in the field with Olivia having the time of his life but of course, that can never be! It is the denial to Mattie of all that matters in life: family, friendships, growth, wonder, and living life to the fullest that is unbearable. Those of us who love him are left behind to contemplate what might have been with the knowledge that it will never be. On this day, the chasm of loss deepens for the irony of his 9th birthday is that he is not here to celebrate it with us. Is it any wonder that April 4th has become the hardest and saddest day of the year and will remain unalterably so for the rest of my life?
The second message is from Peter. He sent this to me in an email this morning. Peter wrote, "I huge happy birthday to our special boy, Mattie on his 9th birthday!! I know we would be celebrating most likely this past weekend. I know I wouldn't have been on the road, but rather there with the two of you celebrating his 9th! So, I am celebrating on my own today, of course while being sad at the same time. Mattie came into our lives on this day nine years ago, and I am the better for having known him, in spite of the torture and horror of watching him slowly slip away from us and having him die in our arms. I learned so much from Mattie and he taught me so much about myself, about being a parent, a father, a friend, and a person. His lessons will remain with me for the rest of my life, and for that I am forever grateful to him. He is a part of me, a part of us, that no matter what happens, will always be with us, and will always have made a positive impression on us. Granted, there is the nightmare of a life with we live without him now, but I cannot focus on that right now, as I do not want to have anything take away from noting this day, nine years ago, that forever changed my life for the better. So happy birthday Matts!"
The third message is from our close family friend, Janie. Janie wrote, "Just arrived home from a trip to Park City, Utah and as I usually do went into Vicki's blog. Read that the 4th was Mattie's Bday. One can not imagine the pain connected with losing a child to this horrible disease. Then the dates of "special events" happen and where do you place yourself on those occasions. Continuing your blog, Vicki, has been a gift to all who have known you and Peter. You are a daily reminder of what happens to families that have to deal with this horrible disease."
The final message is from our friend, Tanja. Tanja wrote, "Just wanted to let you know that we did not forget Mattie on his birthday! This year, to celebrate his life and legacy, we went into our backyard -between the tree swing and the parsley (where I was startled a few times by these magnificent caterpillars) and blew 9 of our bird's Ginny's feathers in the air! The wind just picked them up and took them high up in the air. Then Katharina and I had a milk shake looking at our tree swing, which was moving gently back and forth. Also, I forgot to tell you that my parsley with the caterpillars provided me with plenty of fresh greens throughout the winter!!!! No snow, ice rain and frost made it go away! My mother was astonished!!! Not even during the mildest of winters did her parsley ever grow (it would hibernate and come back in the spring). One more thought: today was a perfect Mattie Sun Day!!! It can't be a coincidence that after weeks of chilly weather, today was beyond glorious!!! Your son is AMAZING!!!"
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