Perfectly made

I hate the word stillborn. I hate that it means my daughter does not have a birth certificate or even a death certificate. It makes me feel like to some her 42.2 weeks of life were invalid or insignificant.

But what others don't know is this...she wasn't just alive, she was thriving inside of me. 

She was strong. I felt her kicks more than I ever felt Ted. 

She had a strong, steady heartbeat that sounded like music to me. 

Our midwife was in awe of Lily's strength as she liked to show off at our OB visits. She would ask if I've been feeling Lily move at all and Lily would answer for me with a big flip or kick. 

She would often say, "Now that's a strong heartbeat" or "Nothing wrong with that heartbeat at all".

I've mentioned before how bittersweet it was to hear that. Sometimes it felt like a slap in the face. Her heart was perfect and strong, but it wasn't enough...

But she was still perfectly made. Her organs were all perfectly formed. She could swallow and hiccup. She had ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. She had perfectly kissable, squishy cheeks. Her nose was a perfect button nose.

I miss her. Not because it's the holidays. I miss her because it's been almost a month since I've held her. I miss her because it's Wednesday or Saturday or Tuesday. I miss her because she should be in my arms right now.

I can still remember how she felt in my arms. I can still feel her cheeks on my lips. I can close my eyes and still see her perfect button nose. And I can look at my finger and still see how perfectly her fingers wrapped around mine. 

I pray with all my heart I never lose that. As much as it hurts, it brings me so much joy when I think about how much love and grace filled that room when I held her. All I saw and felt was my daughter, fearfully and wonderfully made...

Perfect.