Why Sunday Mornings Are Hard

Sunday is a hard day for me. We lost our daughter on a Sunday. Most people that lose babies don't know the exact day their baby went to Heaven. Because we were checking for little Taylor Grace's heartbeat each night, we do. We heard her heartbeat the evening of Saturday, November 22nd, and we didn't hear her heartbeat on Sunday, November 23rd. We know the day she died, and we know that day was a Sunday. It's more than that though. We know the day that she died, but in my heart, I know the exact moment that God took her home. I realized after talking to my mom last week that I never really shared this with anyone. I told Parker, but that was it. I wasn't intentionally keeping it a secret, but I had just lost my baby and my head and my heart were being pulled in a thousand different directions. Today I am sharing the story of what happened that Sunday morning. 
Sunday, November 23rd, 2014 started out like any other Sunday. We woke up and went to church. I had heard my baby's heartbeat the night before and was grateful for another day with her inside me. That morning in church, we were singing worship music. Worship music is really powerful to me, and it always has been. I don't remember what song was playing, but I had tears in my eyes as I thought of this precious gift in my belly and knew I would probably never meet her on this earth. As tears flowed down my face and worship music played, I looked up. Silently to God with my hand on my belly, I said, "God, thank you for this gift. I give her back to you when you're ready". That night when we tried to listen to her heartbeat, it was gone. God had taken her Home. 
I know there is no way to scientifically know the moment a baby's heart stops beating, but I know in my heart that God took her at that moment. I relive that moment, that short conversation with God, every Sunday morning during worship. I don't think I have made it through the worship portion of church without crying yet, and that may not change for a long time. Sundays are tough because I lost my daughter, but Sunday mornings in church are specifically tough because I know that's when it happened. 
Do I regret telling God He could take her home when He was ready? No. She was always His, and He gave me so many blessings throughout my pregnancy. He allowed us to surprise our friends and family with the news. He allowed us to hear her heartbeat. He allowed us to find out she was a girl, and He gave us time to name her. Our pregnancy, though it ended in heartbreak, was such a complete blessing. He waited for me to be ready to give Taylor back, and although I don't think I could have ever been ready, I was at peace in that moment knowing God was in control. 
Honestly, going through what happened that morning, I don't know how anyone could doubt the existence of God. He was so completely present in every aspect of our pregnancy and our journey, and He is holding my daughter close for me until I get there. 

Not the best quality, not the best location, but this was the last bump picture I ever took. This was a few days before she went to Heaven at 18 weeks.