Valarie Watts was faced with an unimaginable loss when she delivered her stillborn son, Noah, in July. In the depths of her mourning, she decided to sell most of the items she had lovingly purchased in anticipation of Noah’s arrival. Each piece she parted with was like letting go of a dream, yet she knew she must find a way forward through her grief.
Amidst her yard sale last month, Valarie hesitated to put out a white crib she simply couldn’t bear to part with. It stood as a poignant symbol of what could have been, embodying her hopes and dreams for Noah. Enter Gerald Kumpula, a retiree with a craftsman’s eye who happened to spot the crib, sitting apart from the other items. Despite Valarie’s initial reluctance, Gerald was drawn to the crib and politely asked if he could buy it.
Valarie, being just 28, initially wavered but ultimately agreed to Gerald’s gentle request when she learned the 75-year-old craftsman had a unique talent for crafting benches from old headboards and footboards. In her heart, she felt a sense of comfort knowing that, in Gerald’s hands, the crib would be transformed into something beautiful—a new creation that held promise amidst her sorrow. She sold it to him for a humble two dollars.
During the sale, a conversation was kindled when Lorene, Gerald’s wife, inquired about the baby clothes on display. Upon learning about Watts’ tragic experience—the loss of her son, Noah—Lorene listened compassionately as Valarie shared her heartache. On their ride home, Lorene recounted Valarie’s story to her husband. Having raised fifteen children and welcomed numerous grandchildren, the Kumpulas were deeply empathetic to Valarie’s suffering. They knew better than most that some possessions hold far deeper meaning than their mere physical presence suggests.
A week passed before the Kumpulas returned to Valarie’s home, this time carrying more than just goods. In Gerald’s hands was a bench crafted from the very crib that once embodied Valarie’s dreams for her son. Upon seeing it, Valarie was filled with a mixture of emotions. In her eyes, it was more than just a bench, it was a fitting monument to Noah. With tears welling up, she thanked them for their kindness and thoughtfulness.
The bench now occupies a cherished spot in her living room, a space that holds both memories and the promise of peace. “It’s beautiful,” Valarie shared in an interview with TODAY.com. With profound appreciation, she noted, “There are still good people out there.”
Her living room, where the bench sits, has become a sacred space. It bears memories of Noah, coupled with a comforting presence that seems to linger. Above it rests a corner bookcase, lined with precious keepsakes: photographs, Noah’s footprints, handprints, and even his ashes. Taken together, these mementos form a patchwork of love and remembrance.
Valarie’s sense of relief was profound. “I’m so happy that it’s not just sitting around doing nothing,” she expressed. Now, she can sit on the bench, cradle Noah’s bear in her arms, and feel as if she’s drawn closer to him. It’s a place where she can find solace and reflect on the little life that had touched her so deeply.
In the final days of her full-term pregnancy, apprehension had clouded the joy reserved for a birth. Valarie had noticed decreased movement from the fetus, which led to a life-altering moment on July 22, when she and her fiancé, Jimi Hamblin, were faced with the harrowing truth: Noah wasn’t breathing. The cesarean section that followed was marked by devastating silence; doctors determined that Noah’s umbilical cord had constricted, depriving him of breath.
The Kumpulas, who had also endured the agony of a stillborn grandchild, related intimately to Valarie’s loss. Gerald reflected on the weight of an unused crib, noting, “An abandoned crib is a somber reminder.” To him, the creation of a bench transformed that reminder into something more hopeful—a place of peace, rather than pain.
When Valarie offered payment for the bench, Gerald graciously declined. Their motivation stemmed from a profound desire to help. “Being able to assist someone is just pleasant,” he said with warmth. “Helping others is good.”
As Valarie embarked on a new chapter—planning her wedding to Jimi that autumn—she found ways to embrace both the pain of her past and the hope for their future. Their 7-year-old daughter, Nevaeh, was a source of joy, and Valarie’s role as a babysitter allowed her moments of reflection. In those quiet moments on the bench, she felt enveloped in a calming presence. It whispered to her that although Noah was not physically there, his memory would always remain. It offered a place to sit when the world felt overwhelming, reassuring her with.
