One of the nurses swaddled my daughter and put her in my arms — an act for which I am eternally grateful. Despite our fears and trepidation, the nurse assured us that holding our baby daughter would help us through our ordeal. As painful as it might seem, it would help us heal.
Grace was beautiful. She had my husband’s lips and my big toe. We told her how much we loved her and how sorry we were. Our families got to see her, too, and a priest came to our hospital room to bless her.
A little while later, a nurse took her away and we never saw her again.
Those precious moments with my daughter — the only time I ever got to see and hold her — are cherished ones. That single memory of holding Grace brings me much peace.