Parenting a Baby in Heaven

by Crystal Midlik

It’s not supposed to be this way. We were never meant to outlive our children. We imagined every scenario with our precious child.

We see them in our arms. We hold their tiny hands. We kiss their chubby cheeks. We rock them to sleep. We protect them as they grow, and one day we see them flourish on their own. We plan for future celebrations, graduations, weddings, and grandchildren. We picture the simple tasks and routines. Breakfast together, afternoon walks, nightly baths, and bedtime stories. Vacations filled with sunshine and laughter. Holidays filled with chaos and joy.

What do we do when this all disappears?

These future memories were stolen from me the moment my daughter died. After a full day of labor, I entered an operating room for a routine c-section, and I anxiously waited to hear her sweet cry. That sound never came. Instead I was met with the words I never thought were possible.

“We did everything we could.”

My world ripped open, and the old version of me fell away. I thought I might actually die from a broken heart. How was it possible to still be alive without my baby here? How does one move forward without the child they hoped, planned, and prayed for?

I continue to struggle with how to press forward with my life. I sit here with empty arms, a literal ache in my chest, and a wandering mind that still pictures those same visions of my future. My daughter should be part of each precious moment.

As mothers who lose a child, we slowly learn that our children are still with us in our simple and profound moments. It looks completely different from what we imagined, but they are very much a part of our lives. We carry them, both in spirit and in tangible ways.

For me, this means a quiet morning that begins with my sweet girl. I walk downstairs to her urn, which is placed on a special shelf with her beautiful photo and weighted stuffed animal. I say good morning, and I tell her how much I love and miss her. Sometimes I tell her what I have planned for the day. I sit down in that room with my cup of coffee and my devotional, and I read aloud to her, just as I would if she was physically here. Some days I smile, others I cry, and sometimes I miss her so much it hurts. But this is how I’m a mother to her. I buy her flowers for her small vase. I wear a necklace with her name. I have two tattoos dedicated to her. I volunteer for a local organization that supports other loss families. I carry a journal with me and write to her from special places.

This is how I parent my daughter in heaven.

Our mothering might look different, but we are still mothers. Our worlds have collapsed, but somehow we have crawled out of the pit and taken steps forward. We look for ways to bring our precious babies with us wherever we go. The pain comes along, but the love does as well. It’s a physical reminder of just how deep our love goes.

When you make those new memories, your little one is with you, Mama. They will join you right where you are.

MEET THE AUTHOR
Crystal Midlik

Crystal lives in Virginia with her husband, Steve, and their two boxer pups, Crosby and Sadie. They are parents to their precious daughter in heaven, Sienna Grace. Steve and Crystal support the local organization, Weighted Angels, which provides weighted stuffed animals and support to pregnancy and infant loss families.

Connect with Crystal on Instagram: @hope_enduring