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I'd just like to warn you as the reader that there are photos of our angel in this post. I understand that some may be more sensitive than others to these images, so if you feel that you may have trouble with them, please scroll no further. We are so proud of our beautiful daughter and want to share her with the world, and we feel that this blog is our space to do that. But the reality is that she was a very tiny baby who had passed away in utero, and that is a disturbing reality - no question. We understand that not everyone will feel comfortable confronting that.
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Not a moment of those 16 hours was wasted. I could have had a difficult or emergent delivery, been in severe pain or incapacitated or unconscious, have been forced to go to the operating room (which was on the table at one point, as the stubborn placenta was refusing to detach for a while there)... but none of that happened. God gifted us with a peaceful and uncomplicated birth, which allowed us to simply be with her. The time we spent included some precious alone time - just the three of us, as well as time spent with a host of family and friends who came to shower her (and us) with love, a visit with her big brother, a family nap, and some priceless memory-making. We left the hospital that day with no regrets.
First, my mom came in from the waiting room where she had been sleeping, and my dad and stepmom arrived from home. They took turns holding her and marveling at her. My dad took many priceless photos for us, including several of Ben giving Gracie her first and last bath, making footprint and handprint impressions, and making a foot- and handprint ceramic ornament.
As morning broke, more and more visitors arrived. My oldest and dearest childhood friend Colette and her husband came. My sisters-in-law, niece, and mother-in-law arrived shortly thereafter. Everyone held her, snuggled her, kissed her, and loved her. It felt so good to watch others take in the reality of Gracie's form, accept her, and love her. I can only imagine how much easier it would have been for our friends and family to just sort of shield themselves from this awful situation, stay home, and hide from it. It was a painful experience for everyone - we were all sitting around crying together! But they came. They were there for us, and they wanted to know her. They wanted to seize this limited opportunity to make a memory of her. Now they will help us to keep her memory alive, because she lives in their minds as well. That may be the most special gift anyone could have given us that day.
My best friend Tiffany and her husband, Ben's best friend Joe - who had been watching Eli for us - came to snuggle our girl, and brought our son to meet his baby sister. Friends, I cannot describe that moment. Let me start by saying that I was afraid. I was afraid that he might be afraid - that seeing a baby that didn't exactly look like your classical picture of a normal newborn baby might startle him. Ben and I had discussed it and thought it through and we knew that we needed to include Eli in this day and allow him the opportunity meet and hold and love his baby sister, but I was worried. Would he balk? Would he cry? That would have shattered me into a million pieces. But friends, my little boy's sweet, innocent, nonjudgmental little soul immediately opened up and enveloped her. His excitement was palpable as he beamed his most enthusiastic smile and exclaimed "It's GRACIE!" He looked around the room at all of our visitors and just kept repeating "It's Gracie! It's Gracie!" as he scanned from person to person, as if to proudly introduce each of them to his sister. It was like he was trying to say to each and every one of them, "Oh my gosh, have you seen her? It's my sister! She's here! LOOK!!!"
I didn't know that I could love my son more than I already did, but watching him accept his little sister with such unbridled love and enthusiasm just made my heart soar. I will be forever grateful to him for giving us these precious memories.
Eventually our guests began to trickle out, and at 2:00 we still hadn't eaten lunch, so we ate and then sort of collapsed. We had been awake for at least 30 hours at that point, and we were truly exhausted. I had been resisting sleep because I didn't want to "waste" a moment with her, but Ben climbed into bed with me and I snuggled her in between us, and the three of us took a nice little family nap for about an hour. It wasn't a waste. It was another thing that we'd never have gotten to do with her otherwise that we got to do that day. Of course I didn't sleep soundly, and I woke up frequently and peeked at her, but it was truly lovely.
The Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographer came and did a bunch of photos for us, which I can't wait to share with you all once they're available. I think they're going to be just beautiful. But by that time, Gracie's fragile little body had already begun to change so much. Her color was darkening, her skin was becoming less sturdy, and we knew that the time to say goodbye was drawing near. We had to strike a balance between spending every possible moment with our girl, and making sure that we didn't wait so long that our visual memories of her would become upsetting ones. When the photographer left, we had our nurse call the funeral home. That started the clock ticking. We had about 40 minutes left with our girl.
We held her so tight. Kissed her little cheeks and nose as many times as we could. Spent time just feeling her weight in our arms. We took off the hat that she had been wearing (for us to keep) and replaced it with an identical one to be buried in, and made sure it looked perfect. We unwrapped her from the blanket she'd been in all day (again, for us to keep) and wrapped her in the soft, fluffy white blanket that we had bought for her final rest. We placed her necklace around her neck and arranged it just so. Then we just cried and held each other as we held her. When they came for her, we cried harder over her as I gave her my last few kisses, whispered how I loved her and would miss her every moment of the rest of my life, squeezed her tight, and then gave her to my husband. He did the same, showering her with kisses and whispers of his love, and then he did the hardest thing he will ever do - he placed her in the funeral director's arms and let her go.We watched him walk out of the room. We collapsed onto the bed, curled around each other, and we sobbed and shook and wailed for our precious little girl.
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