This week would be our daughter’s seventh heavenly birthday. Over the years, I’ve seen others go through the pain of infertility, the devastation of a miscarriage, or stillbirth. The isolation grief can bring often causes us to be silent. There is more pain in silence. I’ve grown to learn as I began to open up more about my journey, God has been able to weave us together to offer a greater sense of healing. 

I wrote the letter below the year after our loss, the stillbirth of our daughter Anna Grace. I hadn’t read it since, until now. It’s a beautiful reminder that even in our greatest suffering, our deepest and agonizing pain, we are able to draw closer to our Lord.

The months that followed were a blur, but what I can remember is leaning on God with everything I had to carry me through my darkest days.

My precious Anna Grace,

This time last year the excitement we felt as we prepared for your arrival was indescribable. With each and every kick and movement, I felt like I was part of a miracle. I was carrying a little piece of Heaven inside me.

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We had prayed for you for years, endured so much pain, tears, and disappointment on our journey to you. Our challenging road to pregnancy gave us a deeper appreciation for each day I carried you. We knew all along you were in the hands of our Lord. What we didn’t know was He had other plans. He knew your soul was too perfect for this earth, that He needed a special angel to stay in Heaven. You were an angel who needed to soar your wings. 

The day I delivered you was the most beautiful disaster. As we held your lifeless little body in our arms, we were in awe of how perfect you were. Your angelic face, your fingers that fit around ours, your sweet baby toes. But where were your rosy cheeks? Your newborn cry? I had envisioned this moment for so long but not at all like this. 

Instead of being greeted by family smiling, laughing, and shedding tears of joy, we were greeted by faces of disbelief, grief, and sadness. 

After nearly a week in the hospital, it was time to come home. I walked into your nursery and fell to the floor, crying out to God. I looked inside your empty crib, your closet filled with clothes, your perfectly placed jewelry box I hand-painted for you and wept. The tears couldn’t come out fast enough. My arms were empty, and it pained me in a way I could’ve never imagined. 

The pain of knowing we lost you will be with me for a lifetime. A little piece of my heart went to Heaven with you. Even though there are still days I cry out to God asking why? Why did this have to happen to us? Why do we have no answers? Why? I’m reminded of the reasons I can thank God and not be angry at him. 

My angel, Anna, you have shown me true strength. There were days I didn’t even know I could be so strong.

You showed me miracles do happen in our lifetime. I’ve been witness to two of them. You were our first miracle and your little sister that you sent for us from Heaven is our second. Thank you, Anna. We know she came to us in a way only you and God could’ve orchestrated. She is the sunshine we so deeply needed. 

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Because of you, I don’t take for granted a minute of any day.

I look into my daughter Hannah’s sparkling eyes and see her for the gift she is. Every smile, every laugh, every milestone is a reminder that God is with us each day.

So although I may cry today thinking of you, Anna, my heart also smiles. You have changed me for the better, and I know one day we will meet again. 

You are more than a memory, precious baby girl, you are the Heaven I held in my arms and carry in my heart every day. 

I love you, 
Mom