Perspective

Unbelievable that we ever had to do this. A tiny little casket with a tiny little body inside--our baby's body. I remember going to visit her grave site not too long after we buried her. I was by myself and I just stood there staring at the fresh outline of the plot. She didn't even have her grave marker in place yet. "My baby is down there," I said to myself. "That is MY baby's body. The baby that moved inside of me for all of those months." My thoughts became dark and sad and narrow. Emotions and memories came flooding back in an instant--how I kissed her forehead just a few weeks ago. How I held her tiny little hand in mine. The sound of the breathing machine that she was hooked up to. Her terrified facial expressions as they were shoving tubes down her throat seconds after I delivered her. The sickening thought of her warm, little, frail body shutting down as I held her in my arms minutes before she died. Then cold. Painful, painful, raw emotions and memories. Hopelessness. Despair. Grief. Unbearable grief. A very narrow perspective.

Then, in an instant, my mind caught hold of an eternal truth and my heart began to swell. Like taking a big breath of much needed fresh air. Now my thoughts began to fill with light and hope, and a much grander perspective. I reflected on the many spiritual experiences we had with Kori. The peace and comfort I felt after crying my eyes out in the hospital room when faced with all of the uncertainties of her situation. I knew that all would be ok--whatever the outcome. The strength I had to utter in prayer the words, "if she is meant to stay with us, then we are ready and willing to take on the responsibility of her physical and mental challenges, and if she is meant to return to thee, God, then we are as ready as we will ever be for you to take her." Then to whisper into Kori's ear, "I love you Kori. You do whatever Heavenly Father tells you to do." Then the experience I will never forget--when we made the decision to take her off of the breathing machines. Our sweet girl was not making any progress and Jason and I knew it was time. A devastating circumstance. Yet we felt comfort and peace. It was God's will. This is HIS child after all. He needed her home with him.

I left her grave site overcome with gratitude for the Savior. A greater appreciation for the Atonement and Resurrection. He knew the pain that I felt because he felt it in the Garden of Gethsemane. Not only did he atone for my personal sins, but he felt all of my grief and pain. He knows. And because he was resurrected, we will all be resurrected. We will see our Kori again someday. These are not mystical, magical, fairytale, fluffy thoughts of unicorn land. These are eternal truths. The spirit of the Lord will testify that they are true. I KNOW I will see Kori again someday if I do my part to stay worthy and faithful. I am eternally grateful for that.

A mold of her tiny hand


We were so overwhelmed with the whole situation that I forgot to bring an outfit for her. I mean, you usually bring a "take home" outfit, not a "send away to the morgue" outfit. I guess I blocked out that thought on purpose. Thankfully, a church group donated this beautiful, tiny white dress that we put on her after giving her a bath. I was so grateful.