Steadfast Love by Crystal Midlik
I waited to hear a sweet cry as my daughter broke through to greet this new world. Instead I heard machines, hushed voices, and more people rushing in as I lay still on an operating table, straining for any signs that all was well. The most staggering sentences followed.
“I’m so sorry. We tried everything we could.”
I repeatedly uttered, “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.” The shock took over my body, and I couldn’t even cry.
My beautiful daughter, swaddled in a blanket, was placed next to my face. I wanted them to hurry with their procedures so I could escape that awful room and just be with her.
When they placed her in my arms, tears streamed down my face, but I also felt this overwhelming joy as I held her tiny hand and kissed her smooth, soft cheeks. She was perfect. I had never seen such a beautiful baby in all my life. And she was the spitting image of me. There was no doubt this was my daughter.
I had carried her for 41 weeks, and we had become one together. Her movements were almost constant. I never worried because her kicks, flips, and stretches always let me know she was healthy and strong. I played music for her, read books to her, and sang as we rocked together in the brand new comfy chair I placed in her nursery. We went for walks, we visited the beach, we sat in coffee shops drinking hot chocolate. We dreamed together about all the wonderful places we would go.
I’m here now without her, but I still carry her with me. All of the plans we made are unfolding, and instead of her being in my arms, she’s brought along in my mind. Her beautiful face is etched in my memory and sewn into my heart. I talk to her. I write to her. I even find myself singing.
Because that’s what we do, sweet girl. You and me. Together now and always. The veil between heaven and earth is now thin as a thread for me. I imagine you on the other side, Sienna, right there just beyond my reach.
It might seem strange to people in this world, especially if they haven’t known deep loss. But losing a child changes every part of you. It splits you wide open, and you walk around with a gaping wound no one can see. The only possible healing comes from saying and hearing your baby’s name and keeping their legacy alive. We carry the pain they escaped, and they continue living through us. We are steadfast and unwavering in our love.
Submission by Crystal Midlik, @hope_enduring on Instagram
