“Starlight,
Star bright, first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
have the wish I wish tonight.”

Sometimes, wishes come true years after you whisper them into the dark—
long after you’ve stopped looking to the sky,
long after the ache has settled into your bones
and you’ve told yourself it’s safer not to hope.

But then a flicker returns.
In the twinkle of a star.
In the hush between storms.
In the quiet flutter of something growing where loss once hollowed you out.

We lost a baby in September of 2023.
And it nearly broke me.
There are no words to measure that kind of grief—only echoes,
only silence
and a sky that felt so very far away.

But the sky didn’t stop speaking.

They call them rainbow babies,
these ones who come after—
tiny messengers of mercy,
promises wrapped in soft kicks and starlight.

This little one came unplanned, unexpected—
and yet already, this baby is weaving light into our story.
A twinkle of joy in the shadow of sorrow.
A quiet answer to a wish made long ago.

We’ve nicknamed our baby—Starlight.
And somehow, Starlight is helping us believe again.

Our little star has begun its descent — landing February 2026.