About Mason's Movement




"You know that place between sleep and awake? The place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting." -Peter Pan

About Mason: Our Story

Mason came into the world on May 17, 2013, 8 weeks ahead of schedule. He was a fighter from the beginning! After 7 weeks in the hospital, we were thrilled to finally bring him home. 

Day by day, Mason brought more joy to us than we thought possible. He was thriving! On December 22, 2013, Mason had his first grand mal seizure, now known as "tonic clonic", and that was the beginning of his battle with Epilepsy. This was unchartered waters for our family. Ambulance rides, life flight, and NICU stays became a part of our world on a regular basis, but Mason never let this slow him down and dull his bright light.

Mason's Epilepsy knew no boundaries. His seizures would strike at the zoo, in the bathtub, out for ice cream, or simply relaxing at home. Each seizure became more aggressive, and lasted longer... sometimes as long as 30 minutes. 

This was a hard-fought battle for him but despite his challenges with Epilepsy, Mason was the happiest, most loving little boy any parent could ask for. He loved to go for walks and crinkle the leaves with his feet, roaring at the lions at the zoo, Thomas the train, blueberries, hide and seek, and reading books together. For the 21 months he blessed us on Earth, he was perfect. 

On February 13, 2015, after bedtime snuggles and milk, Mason died in his sleep from what was ruled as Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy. He had been almost 4 months seizure free. Our world as we knew it, was shattered. 

Life without Mason has been a journey that is hard to explain. There is no way to describe losing your child. I once read a quote on child loss that said "I wanted to write down exactly what I felt, but the page stayed empty. & I couldn't have described it any better." 

When we think about Mason and share his story, it's important for us to share that he lived. He lived, and loved, and played, and sang, and belly laughed. There was purpose in his life, and we now have to find purpose in his death. We have dedicated his legacy and memory to helping others, and continuing to let his light shine in dark places.

Watching Mason grow up is a privilege we do not get, yet we are eternally grateful for those who have, and continue to help us through this journey. We miss him every day, love him immensely, and will continue to look for him in all things magical.