When we found out that our baby was probably not going to survive, we sent an email to a close group of friends in our church. In that group is a couple who vividly remember a miscarriage they had over two years back. They didn't ask questions when they read our email.
They drove right over.
They listened. They cried. They prayed.
It was such a blessing to have them there. They didn't try to have the right words to say. They just knew how we felt. We didn't need people saying "You'll have another baby that's healthy," or "It could be worse." We needed prayer.
My husband spoke his heart that night. The pregnancy hadn't been a reality to him before then, and he was pushed right into grieving her.
It was his idea that we go ahead and name her. "So we know what to call her when we meet her," he said.
There have been few times where I loved my husband as much as I did in that moment.
So that is how we came to give our first daughter her name. Penelope Rose.