Valarie Watts was shattered when she delivered her son stillborn in July. It was a pain deeper than words could express, an ache that cut through her heart and soul. In her grief, she felt lost and helpless, unsure of how to move forward while carrying the weight of that loss. During those difficult days, she tried to find small ways to hold on to her son’s memory, to keep him close even as she mourned. In the process, she decided to sell most of the belongings she had purchased in hopes of bringing Noah home someday, clinging to the hope that somehow, these items would help her connect with him or keep his spirit alive in her heart.
Among those possessions was a simple, white crib. It was a symbol of hope, a tiny piece of toddler-sized innocence that she couldn’t bear to part with. It sat quietly in her yard, untouched, because she simply was not ready to let go of it. But one day, a curious eye fell upon it—Gerald Kumpula, a retiree living nearby, saw that crib and felt a strange tug inside. Something about it called to him. Without hesitation, Gerald begged to purchase it, not even knowing why at first.
When Watts learned that Gerald, who was 75 years old, was a craftsman skilled at transforming used headboards and footboards into beautiful benches, she hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. The idea that her crib could be reborn into something new, something that might bring comfort or beauty to someone else, eased her heart. She told him she was willing to sell it for just two dollars, feeling an odd sense of peace, even in her sadness.
What happened next was a small act of kindness that touched Watts deeply. Gerald’s wife, Lorene, noticed the baby clothes at the sale, which prompted her to ask Watts how old her son Noah was. Their brief conversation opened the door to Watts sharing her heartbreaking story. She told them about her loss, about the grief that lingered in her heart, and about how the crib had been a fragile link to her son.
On their way home, Lorene recounted Watts’ story to her husband. She explained how Watts was a young mother who had lost her baby, and how the crib held so much emotion for her. The Kumpulas, having experienced the pain of losing their first grandchild to stillbirth themselves, understood all too well what Watts was going through. A week later, the Kumpulas surprised her with a gift — a handcrafted bench built from the very same crib. It was a simple gesture, but to Watts, it was so much more. It was a sign that she wasn’t alone, that kindness still existed in the world.
In an interview with TODAY.com, Watts shared her feelings about the bench. She called it “beautiful,” and said it reminded her that “there are still good people out there.” She arranged the bench in her living room, right next to a corner bookcase that holds pictures, footprints, handprints, and even ashes of Noah. It’s a space of remembrance, comfort, and healing. Watts now sits on that bench whenever she needs to feel close to her son. She told the interviewer, “Even though he’s not here, I feel comforted by his presence when I’m sitting in it.” It’s become her sanctuary, a place where she can reflect on her loss and find serenity.
The bench has helped Watts in more ways than she can count. It’s a physical reminder of her son’s life and her love for him, and it’s a source of solace during times when sadness feels overwhelming. She admits that sometimes she just needs to sit quietly, cuddle his bear, and remember him. The calming atmosphere of that space, full of memories and love, gives her a sense of peace that’s hard to find elsewhere.
This profound act of kindness also holds deep significance considering her upcoming wedding to Jimi Hamblin that fall. They have a seven-year-old daughter named Nevaeh, who already senses the special, healing space that her mother has created. Watts describes how the bench is part of her ongoing journey of grief, helping her to slowly find acceptance and hope. When asked about her feelings, she said that sitting there, feeling her son’s presence, helps her through her worst moods. Despite everything she has endured, Watts still believes that things will work out in the end—that love and kindness can heal even the deepest wounds.
Her story is a powerful reminder that healing often comes from small acts of compassion—acts that can help us hold on to hope and turn our pain into something meaningful. In her moments of sadness, Watts finds strength in that bench, knowing that even in loss, love persists and can inspire kindness and connection.
