Sometimes, actually more often than not, I get the feeling people think I shouldn’t mourn my granddaughter the way I do, or for as long as I am (it’s only been a month).

I feel that people don’t believe Harlowe was real. That since she was stillborn, she never really existed.

Well, I have news for people. She was real and she did exist.

For 9 months we planned for her. We dreamed dreams for her. We made plans for her.

For 9 months we watched her mother’s tummy grow, with Harlowe growing inside of it. We saw 3D ultrasound photos of my precious granddaughter. We marveled at how much she looked like my son.

My son and daughter-in-law spent several months getting the nursery set up just right for Harlowe.

She had clothes hung with care in her closet, arranged by size (she had enough clothes, and sizes, to last a couple years). More clothes were neatly folded and gently placed in the beautiful dresser her mother painted and decoupaged for her.

There were hair bows and binders, headbands and barrettes, all hanging on the special hair care rack her mother found for her.

My son put together her crib with precise tooling and care, to make sure it was sturdy and strong for Harlowe.

They hung pictures in the room and had the cutest pink feathered floor lamp.

That is just some of what they did for this baby, their baby, my grandbaby, Harlowe. The baby girl that absolutely was real, that absolutely existed.

She was less than a week from being born, they were going to schedule her to be born the week of July 1st.

Unfortunately, June 23rd came, and with that my sweet little granddaughter died.

Harlowe was full term. She was perfectly made, fully formed, with a head full of curly hair, long fingers (like a pianist) and big feet, like her daddy.

We were able to meet her. She was named. Our pastor came and blessed her and commended her spirit to God.

We dressed her. A professional photographer took pictures of her. Pictures of her alone, pictures of her with mommy and daddy, both grandmas, grandpas, her auntie and uncle, her great uncles, her mommy’s two best friends, and three of her daddy’s cousins.

My son and daughter-in-law were given a certificate of life to honor Harlowe’s existence.

Harlowe was taken to a funeral home. Harlowe was cremated. Harlowe is now at home in a pretty pink and white urn that her mommy and daddy picked out and personalized.

So for those people that don’t understand why I grieve the way I do, or why I am still grieving after a month, I say to you… YES!

Yes! Harlowe was real. Yes! Harlowe existed. Yes! Harlowe’s death broke our hearts.

And we will never be the same…