Our hearts are broken as we gather the strength to share a story that no family ever wants to tell, a story woven from thirty-one days of courage, thirty-one days of whispered prayers, thirty-one days of love so powerful it still shakes the air around those who held him, a story about a little boy namedAustin Carlyle Edwards, known to the world as Baby A, whose life was heartbreakingly short but whose impact will last forever.
From the moment Austin opened his tiny eyes, the world around him shifted in a way that only happens when a soul arrives carrying both fragility and extraordinary strength, a strength that could be felt in every shallow breath he fought to take, in every soft sound he made, in every moment he refused to give up even when the weight pressing against his tiny body should have been more than he could bear.
For thirty-one days, God allowed his parents to love him in a way deeper than words, stronger than fear, and fiercer than the grief that would eventually follow, gifting them time — sacred, irreplaceable time — with a little boy whose presence felt like a miracle wrapped in trembling hands and quiet hope.
His parents, Garris and Nichole, stood beside him every step of his short journey, watching him fight with a bravery that humbled them, admiring the determination in his small chest as it rose and fell in fragile rhythm, recognizing that every second he remained was a second filled with purpose, intention, and the undeniable desire to stay with the people who adored him.
They described him as the strongest and bravest person they had ever met, not because of what he could do, but because of what he endured, because of the way he fought through every moment of discomfort and pain with a courage far beyond what any newborn should ever need to possess, because of the way he held on until his very last breath as if trying to give his family just a little more time to remember his warmth.
But on November 27th, the story they prayed would keep going shifted into the part no parent is prepared for, the moment when God called Baby A home, ending his suffering, lifting every heavy burden from his tiny body, and welcoming him into a place where pain cannot reach, where breath is no longer a battle, where love surrounds him with a gentleness even deeper than the love he left behind.
And though their hearts shattered in a way that will never completely heal, Garris and Nichole have found peace in knowing that their baby boy is now wrapped in a heavenly embrace, smiling with the ease of an angel finally free, dancing with the lightness of a soul unburdened, watching over them with a purity only a child could carry.
They imagine him laughing now, surrounded by granddaddies, grandmothers, and an uncle who must have run to him with outstretched arms the moment he arrived, filling him with warmth and comfort and joy, giving him all the love they had been holding for him, a love that must have made heaven glow a little brighter the moment Baby A appeared.
And while part of Garris and Nichole remains here on earth — walking through rooms filled with memories that ache and shimmer, holding onto blankets that still carry the faintest echo of his presence, trying to understand how life continues after such a devastating loss — another part of them lives in heaven with their son, tied to him in a way that even death cannot sever.
This unbreakable bond is why they say they are thankful, grateful, and deeply honored that God chose them — specifically them — to be Austin’s mommy and daddy, because although losing him has broken them in ways they are still trying to understand, being trusted with his life, even for just thirty-one days, is something they will cherish forever.
In those days, they learned what unconditional love truly means, what it feels like to fight for every breath alongside a child who should have had decades ahead of him, what it means to pray with a desperation that bends a heart in half, and what it feels like to hold a miracle while knowing that miracles sometimes stay only long enough to show us the depth of love we are capable of giving.
Even now, even in their grief, they can feel Austin’s presence, gentle but steady, like a small hand resting on their hearts, giving them comfort when they think they cannot keep going, giving strength to his big brother in ways only an angel could, reminding them that the love they shared with him did not end — it simply changed form.
They speak his name with reverence, with pride, with a longing that stretches into the quiet hours of the night, with a certainty that he hears them, that he knows he is loved beyond measure, that he understands he will forever be part of their family, not just in memory but in spirit, in the invisible thread that ties heaven and earth together through the beating hearts of those who remain.
Nichole loves him with a mother’s endless devotion.
Layla loves him with the tenderness only a sibling can carry.
Bubba loves him with a strength that grows every day.
Daddy loves him with a fierce and lifelong pride.
Mommy loves him with a depth words could never begin to describe.
And all of them know — with absolute certainty — that Baby A will never be forgotten, that his thirty-one days will be told and retold as long as breath fills their lungs, that his story will travel through generations as a reminder that life is not measured in the number of days we live but in the love we give and the hearts we touch.
Baby A lived only a short time on earth, but he lived long enough to change lives, long enough to leave footprints that will never fade, long enough to show that miracles do not always come the way we expect but always come exactly the way we need.
He is gone from their arms.
But he is not gone.
Not truly.
Not ever.
He is watching.
He is smiling.
He is safe.
He is home.
And he is loved — endlessly, fiercely, and forever.
