We had two hundred and seventy sweet days together. Nine whole months to get to know her, to love her and imagine her. I remember the joy of feeling her within, stretching, turning, growing. Nights when her daddy would place his lips on my pregnant belly: "Now go to sleep, my precious one." It was a perfect pregnancy. A perfect labor. And then she was born . . .

The Lindsay Tree in our front yard almost speaks to me now. Sometimes I imagine a little girl there among the branches: smiling, watching us, yet safe from the harms of the world. We share her story now in the hope that others who have had a similar experience will find comfort in knowing you are not alone. May each of you be blessed by sharing Lindsay’s little life because through you, her legacy continues. We already know that death is not the end of loving. Just for a moment, we held a bit of heaven in our arms. You’ll see . . .