Six Months

Six months used to be a long time. In six months, we went from snow and cold to the end of summer. School had three more months to go six months ago, now it has only several days until it starts again. Six months ago we wore coats, gloves, and mittens. Six months ago I vividly remember walking into Hershey Medical Center. My sister was with me. I had a coat on, long socks, and a sweater. I remember feeling the bitter cold wind since my coat was open. The cold stung my face and blew hard swirls inside my coat. I didn't care, it was so much less pain then what I was feeling in my heart. My heart was full of more pain then I ever knew in my life. My life, a few days before was happy and full of life. Now I was walking toward this building where my daughter lay lifeless. My sweet little girl who just a few days earlier had been running around after her big sister. I knew as I walked that I would be faced with hard decisions in the next hours, and that I actually wasn't counting on leaving with my daughter. I thought it would be the undertaker that took her home, not me. The cold seemed to go with the pain I knew would be mine to embrace in the next twenty-four hours. So I embraced the pain the cold gave me almost willingly. I silently thanked God that at least the weather matched the circumstances in my life. I bowed my head and pressed on toward that door of the hospital, determination driving me on. Determination to be the mother God wants me to be - strong, courageous, and gentle. To be the mother my little girl needed even though she couldn't see or hear me. Even though it was only my touch that mattered to her body. That night I pressed on - up the elevator - down the hall to PICU. To my heartbroken husband. To my ever-faithful family and friends who were with us night and day those five days in the hospital. Most of all to my little girl who needed me in her last night on this earth. I laid beside her most of the night - heartbroken. I went through the events of the next day with basically no sleep. I watched the last brain tests knowing what the outcome would be. Together, Merlin and I endured the torture of telling Marlea that Kira was going to die. We held our daughter as her heartwrenching wails reached to heaven and literally the whole way down the hall. We by the grace of God and your prayers endured the most horrible pain a parent can endure. Surrounded by our family and friends we said good-bye to our little Sunshine and Jesus took her home. We quietly said good-bye to the nurses and doctor, gathered her things, and stumbled out to our vehicle. The ride home was unbearable. We were so tired, heartbroken, and drained. The thought of coming in the door - all four of us without Kira was horrible. Determination straight from the throne of God was our only sustenance. And it was there along with lots of grace. I don't look back and say: "Wow, I don't know how we did it". There was no other way but God. He was an is so real to us.

There is more to this story that needs to be told sometime. I don't feel like the right time is here yet. I pray that God would give me the foresight and grace I need to complete the story. I don't feel as if the story is finished yet in our lives. Some of the things we felt that night six months ago are sacred, personal to both of us, and yet we both feel they need to be told for the glory of God. I will say this: I don't feel like we would have been able to physically and emotionally experience God like we did that night without your prayers. I am indebted.

A few days ago I found Marlea on the floor holding Anna. She was singing a song. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey, if you only knew Kira how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away." She looked at me sheepishly and grinned. The pain was radiant on her face. I turned away, wanting to hide my tears. Remembering the many times she sang that song to Kira. She wanted to sing it to Anna, but it felt like betrayal to Kira to use Anna's name instead. In a way, it gave me a clear picture of the pain she still faces every day. The pain that comes out in other ways besides words. Pray that God would continue to give us wisdom to know how to guide her in the right direction. Next Tuesday is her birthday, and she already can't wait; she loves opening cards that have M-a-r-l-e-a written on the front.

Thanks to all of you for your extra prayers and thoughtful actions today. I spent the day sewing for my mother and it felt so appropriate to be doing something for someone else. Most of all, I felt God strongly encouraging me to enjoy our children that are still here. I did, and in a way it was so much fun and made the day bearable. None of their names are Kira, but I saw sunshine on their faces!

Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna