Heaven

I’ve told the story here before about the prayer I said as I laid in my hospital bed the night Vivienne died. I told God that I would never understand why this happened, but I needed to know that my daughter would be safe. So, I prayed that He would welcome her into heaven, love her, and keep her safe until I get to see her again.

I’ve never doubted for one second that Vivienne is in heaven. I like to think that she’s there with my Dad, and he’s taking care of her until I get there (it’s a thought that makes me cry and gives me comfort at the same time). I can’t decide whether she’s a baby or a little girl in heaven—I’ve pictured her both ways.  Either way, I know that she’s safe and surrounded by loved ones.

A couple of months after Vivienne died, I read the book Heaven Is For Real. It’s the true story of a little boy, who during surgery goes to heaven, and comes back to tell his parents the story. He knew so many things from this trip that he couldn’t have known otherwise—it’s hard to read and not feel reassured that Heaven is waiting for us. I’ve never questioned whether there is a heaven, but these days, I look for any and all reassurances I can find.

In the book, there is a chapter called Two Sisters that really touched me (I hope I’m not spoiling this for anyone who hasn’t read it). The little boy, Colton, tells his mother that he has 2 sisters. Colton has 1 living sister and no idea that his mother lost a baby years earlier. He tells his mother that he met his other sister in heaven. Even though she died as a baby, she was a little girl in heaven, but she didn’t have a name because their parents never gave her one (the mother miscarried before she knew she was having a girl). It gave me comfort that I knew our little girl was up there, and that she had her name.

In one of the early support groups I went to (we both still go every month), one of the Moms talked about how she’s no longer afraid to die. When she dies, she gets to be reunited with her son—that’s a happy thing, not something to be afraid of. I think of that sentiment often. Losing Vivienne has changed my perspective on death. Don’t worry—I’m not trying to expedite the process or anything. If I’m still here, then I still have something to do, and there is purpose to my life. But when it happens, I get to be with Vivienne again. That thought not only makes me not afraid to die, it makes me kind of excited. I actually daydream about when I’ll get to go to heaven. I’m sure that sounds strange, but it is what keeps me moving and trying to be better.

So, when it’s my time, I’ll be pushing people aside to get to the pearly gates. And when I do—one of 2 things will happen. I will see my Dad holding my baby girl, and he will hand her to me. Or a little girl will run up to me and call me Mommy. Who wouldn’t be excited about that?