Things that mean alot to me
After Isabelle was born, I thought about it for a millisecond before I knew I wanted to hold and see her. I had subconscious expectations about what a dead body would be like to hold. The first thing I forgot to consider was that even though she had probably been dead for days, she was inside my body so she was warm. I guess I was surprised by her warmth. As I cradled her in my arms and looked at her little face I was also surprised at her beauty.
That little book I mentioned about grief also said that parents of stillborn babies often have an amazing ability beyond unbiased bystanders to see the beauty in their little child. They are able to see past the discoloration and bruising. Maybe that is just how it is when you are looking through the eyes of love.
So, as I was saying, my daughter was beautiful. Her little lips were so soft and petite. She had a tiny little button nose and fat cheeks. Her forehead was so fat, that like Judah's, it was scrunched over making a little fold between her forehead and nose. She had the most darling little feet and hands and soft skin, that had already started to peel a little bit. She was so sweet and so lovely, more than ever I thought would be possible for someone who had ceased to live in the body.
Well, after holding her for awhile and passing her around, I realized I wanted to get a chance to fall asleep with her in my arms, even if it was only just this once. So Titus and I took a nap there in the hospital room and I held my dear baby whose sleep was of a far more permanent nature than ours. Then I rocked her for awhile. We were sad, but at peace.
Even as she lay in my arms a small drop of blood escaped from the corner of her eye and began to run down her cheek. This happened several times. I wiped her tears, those tears of blood, with the corner of her blanket. It was the least I could do to care for her. I got to dry her eyes for a brief moment, I know she won't need any more help with that since there are no tears in heaven.
I have had a couple visions of her in heaven, with Jesus. The second one I had was when we were at church during worship, when I saw her dancing beautifully with Jesus in heaven. She was a little girl with beautiful blond curls. She looked at me and said, "Mommy, I'm dancing with Jesus." Her smile was radiant.
Then Jim Anderson got up and was sharing about Isabelle. When he prayed for us he prayed something about how we would just have to wait to get to heaven to see her do ballet. This was just a small confirmation, but it blessed me. It blessed me to be able to know that even though I can't see her, I can know that my daughter is dancing in heaven.
That little book I mentioned about grief also said that parents of stillborn babies often have an amazing ability beyond unbiased bystanders to see the beauty in their little child. They are able to see past the discoloration and bruising. Maybe that is just how it is when you are looking through the eyes of love.
So, as I was saying, my daughter was beautiful. Her little lips were so soft and petite. She had a tiny little button nose and fat cheeks. Her forehead was so fat, that like Judah's, it was scrunched over making a little fold between her forehead and nose. She had the most darling little feet and hands and soft skin, that had already started to peel a little bit. She was so sweet and so lovely, more than ever I thought would be possible for someone who had ceased to live in the body.
Well, after holding her for awhile and passing her around, I realized I wanted to get a chance to fall asleep with her in my arms, even if it was only just this once. So Titus and I took a nap there in the hospital room and I held my dear baby whose sleep was of a far more permanent nature than ours. Then I rocked her for awhile. We were sad, but at peace.
Even as she lay in my arms a small drop of blood escaped from the corner of her eye and began to run down her cheek. This happened several times. I wiped her tears, those tears of blood, with the corner of her blanket. It was the least I could do to care for her. I got to dry her eyes for a brief moment, I know she won't need any more help with that since there are no tears in heaven.
I have had a couple visions of her in heaven, with Jesus. The second one I had was when we were at church during worship, when I saw her dancing beautifully with Jesus in heaven. She was a little girl with beautiful blond curls. She looked at me and said, "Mommy, I'm dancing with Jesus." Her smile was radiant.
Then Jim Anderson got up and was sharing about Isabelle. When he prayed for us he prayed something about how we would just have to wait to get to heaven to see her do ballet. This was just a small confirmation, but it blessed me. It blessed me to be able to know that even though I can't see her, I can know that my daughter is dancing in heaven.
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