For Moms

If you are reading this, I can only offer the peace that comes from knowing that Jesus is holding our baby angels that were born without life on this earth. My husband and I have held onto that one promise to get us through each day without Katelyn. Time will not heal the ache in our hearts; words will not cover up the silence in an empty nursery; prayers will not bring our precious baby angels back. But there is hope that we will see them again. We will hold Katelyn one day when our days are over on this earth. Until then, we can only smile at the heavens knowing that Jesus is holding her tight and the angels are surrounding her. I imagine that our little angels are all playing together, comforting each other, smiling and laughing together.

I look up to the heavens every time I am outside and smile, hoping that Katelyn is looking down and can see how much I love her and will never ever forget her. I don’t want to sound like I have it all together and have found a way to quickly move on from the loss of my daughter; I just want you to know that you are not alone. I wish I had the words to comfort you, the chance to hug everyone at once that lost a child. Katelyn was stillborn but she was STILL BORN. There were no cries, there were no little coos and other baby noises. There was only silence. I can only thank God for the hours my husband and family and I were able to spend with her. It was an honor to kiss her little apple cheeks that she got from her daddy. It was a blessing that she felt no pain, she just woke up to the eyes of Jesus as He held her in his arms. That is the only peace I can hold onto. I miss my daughter more than anything else in this world.

I remember standing by her bassinet at the service saying over and over that I just wanted to hold her. I just wanted my little girl back. I still want my little girl back. And no, I do not blame God for He did not take my daughter away from us; He was just there waiting to hold her and comfort her when she opened her eyes. It may sound strange but I picture her as a 2 year old little girl. She is a toddler in my eyes, smiling and running through open fields with her arms outstretched laughing and picking flowers to bring to her daddy and I when we meet her someday. Maybe that is a coping mechanism to see her as able to run by herself, to feed herself, to clothe herself, to talk to her friends and not be as helpless as a newborn baby. I pray every day for peace, I tell Katelyn that I love her and miss her more than anything, I hold on to my husband tighter than ever before, and I love Jesus more and more each day. That is what Katelyn wants, I just know it.

Sure it hurts, but if I can’t have Katelyn here with me, then I can only imagine her in Heaven safe in our Father’s arms.