There are so many days that I think “I could handle this so much better if I just knew she understood. If Brynna could just verbalize that she knows the discipline is for her good, that she sees the sacrifices and feels loved and safe and secure…” But as parents, we don’t get that feedback. It’s the one job that doesn’t have an annual review or progress report. You don’t get to hear what they are thinking.
Tomorrow my friends have to face the thing every parent hopes against. They will bury their baby girl who was born Monday with Trisomy 18. Tania carried her to term, feeling her kick and squirm for all those months. She endured the back pain and sleepless nights, the nausea and leg cramps. But a few hours before delivery, Lilly Claire’s little heart that formed with a hole in it stopped beating. Tania pushed through that pain so many of us know firsthand but her baby girl didn’t cry and look up at her with big expectant eyes. As they lay her to rest tomorrow I just keep thinking that there’s nothing I can do. I can’t ease their pain, although I want to with all my heart. I can’t make it hurt less. But I can tell them the one thing that might make it a little easier. Maybe if they just knew what Lilly was thinking it’d give them a little smile in the midst of their tears. If she could tell them how she feels, I think it might sound something like this…
Thank you for loving me enough to give me to Jesus even though you don’t understand. Thank you.
Each year I write about Lilly because it’s still the only thing I have to give her mom and dad.
For more encouragement through the loss of a child, the next post about Lilly is here.