I read my daughter stories and hoped she tasted the strawberries. Our time was precious.

The following text is an excerpt from an article authored by Vicky Wall, posted by The Irish Times - read full story here. 

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Every child changes the lives of those who love them.

Last Sunday, the Catholic Church across Ireland, Scotland, England and Wales jointly celebrated the annual Day for Life; a day dedicated to raising awareness of the meaning and value of human life at every stage and in every condition.

This year’s message reflects on the theme of the humanity of the unborn child by recognising the experience of families whose babies die before or shortly after birth. As someone who has lived that reality, I know well that behind every diagnosis and every loss is a child who is deeply loved and a family whose lives are changed forever.

Near the end of my pregnancy, Líadán’s movements had started to slow down. We knew she had a life-limiting condition, so every kick and every movement became precious.

There was one thing that always seemed to get Líadán moving, and it was cake. I often joked that she had a sweet tooth. One day, after she had been unusually quiet, I made myself a cup of tea and had a slice of cake, hoping to feel her move.

A little while later, she rewarded me with one big, strong kick.

When I think about the humanity of the unborn child, I do not think first about diagnoses or statistics. I think about my daughter.

I remember wrapping my arms around my bump, hugging her as best I could, and whispering: “Come on, sweetheart, you hang in there. You’ve got this.”

It was the last kick I ever felt. The next day, we learned Líadán had died.

When I think about the humanity of the unborn child, I do not think first about diagnoses or statistics. I think about my daughter.

When I was 23 weeks pregnant, we were told Líadán had Trisomy 18, a life-limiting condition. We were told she might not survive to birth and that, if she did, her life would likely be very short.

But one point that never changed, that remained constant, was that Líadán was our daughter and we loved her.

We gave Líadán her name. We talked to her, sang to her and loved her long before we ever held her in our arms. 

Parents know instinctively that the child they are carrying is far more than a diagnosis. They celebrate every movement, worry when they are quiet and hope and pray for time after birth, which can be longer than expected: weeks, months and even years.

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Article originally shared by The Irish Times