I would give anything to have gotten to meet Lily alive... even for just a moment. It stings when I hear of other mothers who lost babies that did get to meet them outside of the womb. I wish I could have met the little girl who grew within, the little girl who I felt so full of life. I cannot even imagine what it's like to have a baby that I get to look into his/her eyes.
I'm haunted by wondering the question that will forever remain unanswered - what color were the eyes behind those lids shut-tight? The eyes that never opened to see the beauty to be discovered in this world God created. You know how "they" say the eyes are the window to the soul? Well, I never got to gaze into her soul, I never got to say "hello" to my baby before having to say "goodbye."
Since the first day of my life without Lily, I have thought of her beautiful eyes and how I wish I could have seen the light in them. Her father and I peeked at one of them. It was blue, but there was no light of life in them. Of course her eyes could have changed color through the months, but knowing that both her parents have blue eyes, I am nearly certain her eyes would have also remained blue.
This is part of something her daddy wrote to Lily in 2010: "I took a peek at your eyes. I didn't think you would mind. They shined blue, as blue as the clear summer sky. I just wish I had a chance to say "hi." Instead I had to say "goodbye." My love will never fade for you Lily, you are always on my mind and always in my heart."
I hope I have another blue-eyed baby one day. Both my parents, all my siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. have blue (a couple with green) eyes. That's something I have always loved about my family, in a world where brown eyes are dominant and less and less people have blue or green eyes. It's something I want to pass on to my children. And it's painful to think of the little girl who did inherit those blue eyes, the little girl who I never got to see her blue eyes.
I have always felt certain her eyes were blue, and I've always wished I could have locked eyes with hers. In fact, I wrote something about her eyes in my letter to Lily that I read at her Celebration of Life Service:
"I know one day I will meet you at the gates of Heaven. Will you wait for me there? On that day, my Jesus will place you in my arms and I will finally be able to hold you, sing to you, smell your sweet baby smell, and look into your lovely blue eyes. Until then, I know He'll take good care of you. Until then, I will cling to the One who holds the world in His hands. Thank you for changing my life. I will never forget you little one, my precious angel who was simply too beautiful for Earth."
I may not have gotten to meet her and see her eyes here on this side of Heaven, but that doesn't mean I won't ever get to. I believe the moment is simply delayed, something I must wait for Heaven to experience. And that moment there will be more amazing than words could ever begin to attempt to describe. For now, I hold onto the comfort of knowing the first face she saw was the face of Jesus. And the first beauty she saw was the unimaginable beauty of Heaven.
A friend of mine posted this song by George Strait called "Baby Blue" about his daughter who passed away early in life. It reminded me of my beautiful girl with baby blues.
These lyrics especially touch my heart:
"I always knew she'd go away when the grass turned green and the sky turned baby blue... And baby blue was the color of her eyes. Baby blue like the Colorado skies. Like a breath of spring, she came and left, and I still don't know why... She brought colors to my life that my eyes had never touched. And when she taught me how to care, I never cared so much."
Lily was born right before spring started. She too went away when the grass turned green and the sky turned baby blue. She too had baby blue eyes. She too was like a breath of spring coming and going, though I don't know why. She too brought vibrant colors to my life and taught me how to care more than I ever cared for anyone or anything in all my life (besides Jesus).