January 18, 2018 – I remember it as if it were yesterday – the excitement of meeting our baby for the first time up close and personal via ultrasound. So many questions would be answered after this day. Would I be buying pink or blue cupcakes or flowers for the baby reveal? Would we be re-painting the nursery to a blue, grey or green, or will my three closets full of girl clothes get an extended life with another sister? But the biggest question, the one every parent wants to know, was ‘is my baby healthy?’.

That question pales every other question because without the answer that you want, none of the other ones matter. We didn’t get the answer we wanted. It was our worst nightmare come true.

Given the ultrasound findings, it didn’t even occur to the technician to tell us the baby’s gender. I had to ask her as she was exiting to get the doctor. A girl. Our sweet girl. It’s fitting that January 19 is the March for Life this year – one year after we chose life for Liliana, and forever changed our own.

To this day, her ultrasound picture is posted on my bathroom mirror. A moment in time from that day captured in an image. Despite her diagnosis, her little head, body and profile looked perfect. I looked at that picture every day leading up to her birth and every day since. And when I see it, I only see Liliana, and not her illness. I only feel love and not the sadness from the day it was taken.

The other day my oldest daughter woke up and came in my room smiling and telling me that she had a good dream about heaven. Of course I asked her to elaborate. She said she saw Liliana and that she brought her to me and that I hugged her and kissed her. She said we were all together.

I was overjoyed at hearing her dream. I laughed, I cried and I longed for more details to hear about our reunion in heaven. But that’s the thing about dreams, sometimes they are just brief glimpses or a flash of an encounter. But they usually have an emotion tied to them. We wake up with images in our heads tied to joy, sadness, fear or some other emotion.

When I think back to Liliana’s ultrasound day, it’s like a dream. One that I have very vivid memories of that flash in my head – but just moments, not the whole encounter. I remember the anticipation of the day – excitement. I remember the words the tech spoke when she said something was wrong – heartbreak. I remember my husband’s words when we named Liliana in those moments – love. I remember the doctor’s gentle words at explaining things to us – hope.

While those moments were painful to live through, the intensity of the emotions have subsided, just like with a dream. I can now look back and focus on the good memories that came after.

Our lives are made up of moments. And we can choose which ones we want to focus on. In my memory book of Liliana, the painful ultrasound day is only the first chapter. And while there are a few other painful chapters, I have so many more joyful chapters filled with love and faith. That’s where I try to stay focused. That’s where I know she wants me to be.

I’m still waiting on my dreams of her and I together, but I know it will happen one day. In the meantime, I can cherish the dreams of my daughter playing with her sister in heaven and play back those moments in my mind. The best part is knowing that one day, my two older girls will be able to see their baby sister in heaven and we will all give each other hugs and kisses for real. It will be a dream come true, a moment of a lifetime and the final eternal chapter to my book of Liliana.