"He cries because I can't see what He can."

I've been doing a lot of "grief" reading since losing my daughter in March, mainly of stories that have been written by inspiring and strong women who have gone through a similar circumstance. In the beginning it was such a struggle to try to see the positive in this devastating situation that we, as a family, had just experienced, so I tried to look for an outlet and for people to turn too. I was so incredibly overwhelmed at the time with inconceivable amounts of unfamiliar emotions and honestly it felt like a constant battle within myself each day to put my feet on the ground, smile and just breathe at times. With the help of others though and through encouraging words I was able to see the light each day, some days brighter than others but nevertheless it was there. I truly believe that people are put into your life for a reason and in some way that person is going to inspire you and help you grow.

The night we found out Harper was sick my OB shared a very personal story of hers that I had never known. With tears in her eyes she told me that she, herself, had been in a very similar situation: "Kate, I don't know if I've ever told you this but I lost a child to a Trisomy abnormality in the past and I know this isn't easy but I'm here for you if you need anything. I remember the day we found out Andrew was sick and part of me kind of knew. I decided that we would just enjoy every minute we had together and I made the decision to carry him to term knowing that his life on earth would be very short. I will be doing nothing but praying for you and your family and I wish with all of my heart that you have a better ending than we did." As she was telling me this remarkable story I could feel that this was no longer my doctor talking to me, but rather a mother talking to a mother and wanting nothing more than to not watch someone go down the same path.

Now that I've experienced the loss of a child and I too have been forced to travel down a very similar path, my eyes have been awakened and  I am just astounded by the courage and the strength that this woman has each and every day. I have thanked God countless times since the start of this unimaginable journey that I've had her by my side since that day. I mean, here is a mother who has lost a child, the hardest thing a mother will ever do in a lifetime and she is still willing to walk the path of unbearable pain with each and every one of us. Each time she chooses, to some extent, to relive the pain of that dreadful moment she experienced as well in the hopes of helping others stumble less. I remember telling myself a few days after Harper left his world that if she can do it, than so can I; because I know she will help me through it all. She saved my life the day Harper was born and in a way she has also helped save my soul and for that I am forever thankful.

Later, when I began to open up about Harper's passing the support and kindness from everyone around was astounding but most importantly it was the support from complete strangers whom I probably would have never met or talked to otherwise that spoke to me the strongest.  I will never forget a particular mom who lost her son a year ago from hydrops writing me these exact words:

"There are sadly so many of us, but I have met some pretty amazing women. Women that I consider my closest allies, whom I doubt I will ever meet in person."

How much truth I have found spoken in these words. How had I been so blind to this devastating life changing experience that has effected so many? One thing I've noticed amongst all of us moms is that we all say the same thing: we are changed people now. We are undoubtedly connected to each other in a way we wish we weren't but at the same time, extremely thankful that we are. I wish there was a way to write down on a piece of paper exactly what one feels during this unimaginable journey but there simply isn't.

There's a book that sits on my nightstand since the first night that my doctor gave it to me. A book that I've read in its entirety and then some; a book titled "I Will Carry You." It is one of the most rewarding reads and the best interpretation I've seen thus far of sorting through these wild and crazy emotions during this time. I began reading this book about a week after my daughter left this world  and while reading I noticed one particular line that took a forceful jab at my heart and kept bringing my eyes back to it so that I would read it over and over.  It simply read...

"He cries because I can't see what He can."

I have to believe this is the absolute truth. I have to believe that there is a bigger purpose for this to have all happened and that Harper had a much bigger role to play than I could have ever imagined for her. I have to believe that there is more to this world than the physical objects we see everyday because it is through that belief that I know I will get to hold this amazing human being once again. She was Adam and I's "new beginning to this new life" and while it's not the life we would have chosen for her we've talked about how she lives on within us and how nothing can ever change that.

I'm now ready to take my experiences and my emotions from all of this and move onwards to my newest read by another strong woman whose daughter was also diagnosed with non immune hydrops while in utero. Through the sales of her book, "My Journey with an Angel" and through her non profit organization she is raising money to encourage research in this rather "unknown" field of fetal abnormality. I pray that one day the abnormality that took Harper's life will hopefully not take that of another. I pray we discover more and more regarding this particularly sad diagnosis and that we begin to see more lives saved and I hope one day that I too will find a way to help join the fight against hydrops.

For now though, until that path is decided, I will pick up another broken piece on this unimaginable journey and place it thoughtfully where it belongs knowing that each completed piece brings me that much closer to my loving daughter.