Heart-Breaking Baby

By , mattawan, MI
Has your heart ever been broken? Well, mine has been broken many times, but there is one time that
stands out in my mind so much I can't stop thinking about it. That time was about half a year ago
..... Okay, I have to admit, while my mother was going through the pain of birth, I wasn't giving
her a second thought. I was shooting hoops, shooting soccer goals, and skating the day away. I went
to get Switz to come over for some fun on March 17, 2008. My baby sister had been alive and
thriving for about six hours. Her name was Amari which means a miracle from Godin Native American.
And she was a miracle from God, sent down for us to enjoy her. Switz and I were skating around,
passing a tennis ball around, while skating down the street. My grandpa was screaming down the
street for me, so I raced up to him on my skates and he told me that we were going to see Amari at
the hospital. Only the older three of us were going. They would stay home with the other set of
grandparents who were staying with us. So I took off my skates, put on some good clothes, jumped in
the van, and we set off to the hospital. When we got there, we went into my mom's room and
washed our hands. There was some small talk, then my dad cut to the chase. "Now, guys," he began,
"We all love your baby sister very much, but she has problems. She only has half of her heart
developed, so she can't live for very long." "How long is she going to live"" I questioned, on the
verge of tears. "Well, she is only supposed to live for up to forty-eight hours." my mom cut in.
Right then, I realized that this was the only time I've ever seen my father cry.

"Do you guys want to hold her"" he asked. We all nodded yes, so he told us to go into the bathroom
and wash our hands. We did, and he let Chris hold her first. Grandma took some pictures, and then
it was my turn. As she came into my arms, everything around us melted away. Colors were running
together and I realized that I was still crying. She felt so warm, so soft, and I knew, right then,
that if we prayed for her every day, we would be able to enjoy her longer. I held her for what
seemed like another half hour, but couldn't have been more than five minutes. I was still crying,
when all of a sudden, colors came rushing back, and Dad was taking her from my arms. I still
remember that, clear as day, and whenever I think about it, it makes me sad. I will be quiet for a
long time(for me). I pray to God every day and I sense that it is helping. I try to do whatever I
can to help, but it is inevitable, and we can't prolong her life. We can only pray for her and love
her.





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peapod416 said...
Jun. 27, 2011 at 6:28 pm
I've been through the same thing with 2 of my siblings that had died because of prematurity. This really hit home with me especially because my name is Amari.
 
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