My guilt overwhelmed me.  I hadn't wanted a baby for nine months.  But when she was born, I was thrilled.  She was wonderful.   So Pretty.  So Sweet.  When she was gone, I was broken.  How could I not think that God was punishing me for my attitude toward his gift of life.  Where had my trust been?  Why hadn't I just accepted  being pregnant and trusted God's will?  The only answer I can come up with is that I had a lesson to learn.

Matthew 19:14  "…Jesus said, suffer (let) the little children to come to me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven."
Of such….is the kingdom of heaven.  I knew where she was, I just didn't know why.

Ken had been rocking her and she was fussy for the first time, "Maybe she would do better in her bed?"
"Ok, I'll fix a bottle."  It took five minutes.  She just quit breathing.  In 1961 doctors didn't have a name for that.  We buried her at Arlington National Cemetery.

Why do terrible things happen?  I think that as far as God was concerned, our little girl had been sent to do a work in both Ken's life and my life.  And she completed her life's purpose in nine days.  We were never the same.  "I expected to be killed in combat, or some air accident," Ken said.  "Why wasn't it me?"  I had never seen him weep.  It was an entirely new side of him that I hadn't known existed.

There is no answer to a question like that.  Except that God wasn't through with him yet.  And for sure God wasn't through with me.  I had a lot to learn.

I took down the baby crib, put away the baby clothes and started the next chapter.

Her name was Amy.