Tuesday, December 2, 2014


When I was pregnant with Benjamin, my mom told Justin and I had she didn't get it until my sister was born.  Didn't get how much you could love another person - the piece of your heart walking around outside your body.  My mom told us that she stood over my sister's crib one night (I am hoping she also later felt this way about me), and thought, "If anyone tries to hurt her, I will kill them."

"Yep," Justin said, climbing into bed one night after Benji arrived.  "I get it now.  I would kill anyone who tried to hurt him."

It's true.  It's hard to explain to someone who is not a parent how deep my love for my children is.  It's different than the way I love my husband or my sister or my own mother.  It's unexplainable.  It's powerful.  It's protective.  It's unconditional.  A love without end, amen (thanks, George Strait).

So what now?  What do we do with that deep, unconditional love for our daughter?

What happens when your child is a piece of your heart outside your body, but that piece of your heart is dead?

What happens when I would kill anyone who tried to hurt her, except she died before she was born?

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