On May 1, 2012, the Brautigam family’s life changed forever.  While at daycare, Anderson, 18 months old, was put down for his usual afternoon nap, and never woke up.  Jeremy Brautigam was the first family member to know of Anderson’s death.  He arrived at daycare to an army of first responders and was greeted before entering to be told that Anderson had died.  Lisa Brautigam, in the meantime, was still at work.  Jeremy was tasked with making the horrible call to Lisa to tell her that her son had died.  Lisa was unable to drive herself to the daycare, so Lisa’s employer, who has its own law enforcement program, provided a law enforcement officer and transportation to the daycare.

Lisa and Jeremy got to spend over three hours with their son the night of his death.  They were able to hold him, talk to him, and spend quiet time with him at the scene, only interrupted by moments that required investigators to talk with them or examine Anderson.  On scene were two chaplains who worked with Lisa and Jeremy to understand what was happening and guide their time with their son.  The chaplains also worked with the daycare provider, and the other children and families, including Jeremy and Lisa’s older daughters, to process what had happened and assist them with any grief process at the scene.

Anderson was a healthy little boy, with a smile and eyes that would light up the world.  Leading up to his death there were no incidents or illnesses that were remarkable as far as a cause of death.  Leaving him at daycare that morning, there was no indication that anything was wrong.  An autopsy was performed on Anderson, and within 24 hours they concluded that there were no visible signs of trauma or any clear visible cause of death.  Anderson’s body was released to the family the day after he died.  Additional tests were conducted, and after approximately 7 weeks, the medical investigation was closed and the cause of death listed as Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood (SUDC).

Lisa attempted to capture Anderson’s joyful spirit in her words at Anderson’s Memorial Service on May 12, 2012:

Good morning.

Thank you just doesn’t cut it today.  No words can express our gratitude and appreciation for the love and prayers we have received these last 11 days.  As many of you may know, the last few years have not always been easy for our family.  It is sometimes so easy to find oneself thinking or feeling like we are alone when life inevitably does what life will sometimes do, presenting us with what seem like impossible challenges.  Today, however, I want to share with everyone that no one is alone in life’s journey of ups and downs.  I ask you to look around this room – at all the love, support, and open arms.  If nothing else comes from today, I truly hope that each of us leaves here with a new perspective and strength to draw upon when life gives us our own individual mountains to climb.  While the faces of the people you find in your own life may not be identical, today we are all surrounded by a community of love, support, encouragement, and just plain human companionship that all of us need to draw upon in times of need.  We have all heard “It takes a village.”  Today we sit among the finest of villages – this community gathered in this room, and it is overwhelming.  Thank you all for your love for our family.  The peace and comfort we have found with each and every one of you during this time is immeasurable.

I have struggled over the last few days of what to say, whether to say anything at all today.  I couldn’t help but feel compelled to say something today, as difficult as it is with a broken heart, because there is so much I want to still tell my precious boy – so much all of our family has struggled to put into words during what has been an unthinkable tragedy for our family.  I wanted to express our wishes for our precious boy to help everyone know him better, know him as we knew him.

Our Dear Sweet Anderson:

Our time with you was much too short.  We all miss you terribly, more than any words can express.  Our hearts ache to hold you, to get sloppy kisses, and to catch you as you run into our arms collapsing in a fit of laughter.   While we are biased, of course, we all believe you had to be the happiest little boy we have ever seen.  I can’t help but believe that you packed in a lifetime of happiness, laughter, and smiles into your 18 months with us. 

Every parent and family member has a long list of dreams for every child.  That does not change, even though you are no longer here with us.  While the hopes and dreams may be different, they are no less compelling than they were a mere 11 days ago.

We hope that you are, first off, still smiling that contagious smile, with the unmistakable sparkle in your eye.  We hope your days are filled with laughter and giggles, and an unending joy for learning new things.

We hope that someone is there to hear your demanding calls of “uh OH!” when you awake to find your pacifier recklessly thrown from your crib during your slumber.  And, even more importantly, that they jump to find it in the dark, feeling around on the floor and under your crib, desperately trying to return it to you for a source of comfort.

We hope that someone recognizes your pulling at your hair as your need to rest or sleep.  Or even better, that there is someone with long hair for you to sit with, entangle their hair with yours in your hand, and that will allow you to gently run it through your fingers as you fall asleep.

We hope that there is someone that will remind you to bite into the girl scout cookie as you stare at it after you have licked, or more accurately smeared all over your face, its chocolate coating.

We hope that there is someone who will stand across the room, get down on one knee, and hold their arms open and allow you to run into their arms giggling towards a huge hug.  More importantly, we hope they expect your legs to fold as you fall backwards expecting kisses under your chin, and they kiss you until you can barely breathe from laughing so hard.

We hope there is an abundance of drawers and cabinets filled with pots, pans, and Tupperware lids.  Similarly, we hope you are greeted with an abundance of patience as you empty the drawers and cabinets by the armload, and return each item one by one, interrupted by so many other fun distractions, before emptying them all over again.

We hope you can enjoy your meals while viewing a million birds gorging themselves on a feeder.  We hope you always squeal with excitement as each bird comes into view.

We hope you continue to identify fish in even the oddest of places, marveling at each fish with wide eyed excitement.

We hope you have a million balls to carry, move, put in and out of anything you can, all while exclaiming “BAH!  BAH!” with an unending proud grin.

We hope there are lots of mirrors for you to view yourself in, stick out your tongue, and crack yourself up in an endearing fit of laughter.

We hope that there is someone that finds your pulling their shirt to their knees, all while lifting one foot in what we affectionately call the flamingo pose, all while exclaiming “Up, Up” as heartwarming as we do.

We hope there is someone who loves to chase you as you run away with the devilish grin that says “catch me if you can.”

We hope there is someone who sometimes turns and giggles out of your site as you walk across a room, pretending to go get a toy, and as you pass the person who happened to irk you a minute before you grab a handful of hair.  Yes, our son, we will always stand by our rule that hair pulling is inappropriate.  However, your sneakiness and slyness were always a bit funny, you always thought you were fooling us, and just sometimes it was a joy to let you believe you had.

Most importantly, we hope you know in your heart how much you are loved.  We can’t help but believe that if the boundless love, joy, warmth, smiles and laughter you shared with us is any indication, you knew just how much we love you and now miss you with all our being.  We miss you little man, our little bud-bud and you will forever be in our hearts and lives.  Until we meet again our sweet boy –

We love you and we miss you with all our hearts.

Thank you for supporting On the Songs of Birds.  For additional information regarding the organization’s activities or financial information, On the Songs of Birds is registered with the Washington State Charities Program as required by law and information may be obtained by calling 800-332-4483 or 360-725-0378.

On the Songs of Birds is a WA non-profit which is applying for, but has not yet received, federal tax-exempt status.  It is expected we will receive a tax-exempt determination within the next six months, and, assuming we do so, contributions made from June 6^th forward will be deductible for federal income tax purposes.  While we do not anticipate any difficulty in obtaining tax-exempt status, potential donors should be aware that there is a possibility that the organization may not qualify.  In that event, while any funds contributed will still be used to support the purposes of the organization, the contribution will not be tax deductible and will not be returned.