I paid closer attention to her every move, soaking her being in just as I did on the day we brought her home from the hospital, so aware of the miracle she is.
We rocked a little longer before bed that night. I felt the rise and fall of her chest, her life breath. I felt the steady thump-thump of her heart, pumping her life force. "She's really here," I thought. "I can't believe she's here."
We still don't know how she's here. Well - we know, we took part in her creation - but we don't know exactly what circumstances allowed her once tiny, invisible-to-the-naked-eye life to progress. We don't know if it was the progesterone, or the endometrial biopsy, or the clomid. Or maybe just two of those things. Or maybe none of those things. Over two years later, we still don't know.
Three of her siblings couldn't hold on. We don't know why.
Three.
I think of them, my first two, still. I think of our fourth now, reminded of the wounded heart that comes with this territory. I wonder of them. I wonder what their eternal forms look like. Will I recognize them when I step into eternity? Will I know they are my children? Will they know me?
Do they know how much they were wanted? I hope they know. Oh, how I hope they know.
Like all of them, we wanted this baby.
We were so content in trying for you, so at peace with no worry or anxiety. I knew you existed before the test even told me so. I could feel the changes that your little life brought my body. I felt the holy work, the hands of the perfect One shaping you. I loved you, my fourth. In the few weeks of your existence on this Earth, you were loved and wanted every second.
We began telling people of you, the happiest news. We saw smiles and cheers and joyful tears. We weren't even given enough time to let everyone special to us know you were here. I wish there was more time.
I started planning for you. I knew how we would arrange your new room, and it didn't matter if you would be a boy or a girl. We just wanted you. We wanted to watch you grow inside, and then kiss your cheeks and forehead and hands and toes. We wanted to change your messy diapers, and lose sleep every night over you. We really wanted you.
I ordered Camden an outfit. The shirt read "Big Sister". It will arrive in a few weeks, now a harsh reminder that we'll never know you this side of eternity. She would have been the best big sister. You would have been so loved.
I know you are loved, even now. I know you are there, with your older siblings, and all those who lived numbered years on Earth but now reside eternally. I know you existed in God's heart first, and that existence is even more special than the days we had together.
I'm really honored to be your Mother, holy being. I'm really humbled that I got you, even for such a short time. I will love you all my days, a piece of my heart continually aching for who you might have become.
You are forever loved, forever wanted, forever cherished.
We will see you soon, precious life.
