Someone asked about you today. I was at brunch celebrating a friend’s birthday and this woman was someone I had just met. “It’s complicated,” I said, responding to her question asking to hear about my kids. I shared about my surviving children and then I told her you had died a few years ago. “What’s her name? Tell me about her,” she said.

I can count on one hand the number of times a stranger has asked about you after telling them you had died. Most mutter a quick “I’m sorry for your loss,” then try to change the subject. Talking about deceased children makes people uncomfortable, you know. I’m familiar with recovering conversations after this awkward interaction but I wasn’t quite sure what to do when the conversation didn’t abruptly end.

It’s not often that I’m at a loss for words, but today was an exception. I’m sure I looked uncomfortable as I tried to muster up something to share about you. What do you say about a child who you love as fiercely as you do your other children, yet you know so little about them? How do you sum up the life of a baby that irrevocably changed many parts of you?

As I’ve reflected on this interaction, I’ve been heartbroken that I had so little to say about you. That talking about you is so hard because your life was complicated. It’s the heartache and guilt I feel when I realize how rare this opportunity was and I fumbled.

New friend, had you asked me now, here is what I would have shared:

Ellie was one of the three greatest gifts God has ever given me. She was born too soon to parents who absolutely adored her. She spent 10 days with us before transitioning to her heavenly home. Learning to live a life without her in it was something I wasn’t sure I could survive.

For Ellie’s entire life, all she knew was love. From the team taking wonderful care of her to her family and friends – she was the recipient of a magnitude of love and compassion that few will ever experience.

Ellie taught me about a love so deep that it transverses heaven and earth. A love that exists from the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child that not even death can separate.

Ellie changed nearly every part of me, and in many ways for the better. She taught me the joy found in simplicity – like the sound of children laughing or the beauty of a sunset. She taught me that some of life’s greatest moments are the ones where you slow down and soak in everything around you. She taught me about the fragility of life and the importance of telling people how much they mean to you.

Most of all, Ellie taught me about the goodness of God. I learned that your heart can be shattered in a million pieces and yet God is still loving and gracious. I learned that He can carry you when you can barely hold your head up and He can mend your heart in ways you didn’t know were possible. I learned He can bring beauty from ashes and can take your story and use it for His glory, even when it’s messy.

I wish I could have shared these things in person, but this will have to do. Thank you for caring enough to ask questions that are uncomfortable and for giving this mama’s heart some unanticipated peace today.