My grandson was stillborn at full term last year. He was beautiful and perfect in every way. This poem came to me recently–I didn’t even work to compose it, it simply appeared in my mind. It expresses my feelings perfectly.
Stillborn. Born still. No movement, no sound.
Stillbirth. Still a birth. Still warm, still perfect, still precious.
You are still with us. We can feel you. Especially when we’re still.
We still live. We still work and play.
We still grieve. We still love.