Sometimes someone very, very special comes into your life, that changes everything in your world. Such was my little baby, Sarah, my fourth and last child. She was born with a syndrome and the first prognosis was so dismal, we couldn't believe the doctor was describing the beautiful little baby that had just been born to us.
Born with multiple problems, the doctors seemingly compounded her problems. Whether it was intentional, through lack of knowledge, or experience, or for whatever reasons, I don’t know, but it was without compassion. Sarah suffered greatly during, and after, the medical operation and procedures that followed. I saw and felt Sarah’s suffering, yet I was helpless to be able to do anything or to take control. I was as much a captive to their treatment as Sarah was. My heart tore apart as I watched her futile attempts to stop the doctors and nurses and I could no more stop anything than she could. The terrible pain and suffering Sarah had to go through seemed unbearable.
Later we found a doctor who treated Sarah just like a little girl, it was so wonderful to see the care he gave her! Sarah thrived during this time. I am sure the first doctors did their best, perhaps though, if they had seen her through different eyes, their decisions would have also been different.
Sarah was the love of my life, I have never loved anyone as much as her. At times when she would sit on my lap and play, I would look down on her and see the most awesomely beautiful child I had ever seen and my heart would be filled with love and peace. Yet, when I tried to capture her in a picture, she was blue, pale, and crying. I took few pictures and have few that look ok.
I was now a stay-at-home mom. Living out in the country we created our own little world. I read and acted out the stories in the picture books with Sarah, she loved the Disney Babies. She also loved her swing and her Raggedy Ann and Minnie Mouse. Her sisters and brother, all of whom Sarah adored, loved and accepted her just the way she was. Her father, may have accepted her the way she was, but he was terribly hurt by Sarah’s condition. But Sarah accepted him just the way he was, anyways. Sarah lived almost 3 1/2 years.
Respite workers took care of Sarah, while I shopped and did work out of reach of her oxygen tubing. It was wonderful to have someone you could trust take care of Sarah. If a new worker was sent out, I would hurry home, or not leave home, afraid that maybe she got her bath too hot, her formula too hot, or she would get water in her ears, or she was neglecting or hurting Sarah, or something unforeseen had happened and no one would be able to get a hold of me. My heart would leap with joy as, finally, I came down the drive to the house.
I did pray to God. I prayed for my little girl to be healed if that was His will. We mostly listened to the televised evangelists—it is a blessing how the Lord spreads His Word to reach us wherever we are. We had some Bible story books but I am not sure Sarah understood, as I am sure she needed action pictures in order to relate. Perhaps she just accepted the stories. Except for some sounds and her crying, Sarah never spoke, except for one episode, shortly before her death, when she babbled in baby talk for a great length, but then never again. I was so dumbfounded! We don’t know how much she understood.
Something very special happened in our lives, though. I cannot explain it, but I would like to share these very awesome events. Sometime, about a month before her death, Sarah was sitting on my lap teething on a toy. I was looking up at the TV, when suddenly I could feel Sarah’s eyes on me. My heart felt a thrill, as she was always doing something new and exciting.
I looked down and the moment our eyes met a tremendous, awesome feeling descended on us. There was a sound like the quick snapping, crackling sound of static, or the sound of electricity, and instantly I couldn’t see Sarah’s face anymore. A brilliant white light was radiating from her—its rays filled the room. I was aware that I could see the room only in my outer peripheral vision, through the rays as they extended outward. The light from Sarah’s eyes was intense and radiating. I was transfixed by it and stared unblinkingly into it. I have no idea how long I stared into the light—it was much longer than seconds, it could have been a minute—I don’t know. The intensity of the light pulled the muscles of my eyes—I dropped my eyes for a moment and the light was gone.
Suddenly a feeling of immeasurable love and peace came upon us. Our love was complete and beyond physical needs—not needing to touch or hold to feel loved. Though our spirits were separate, I felt my love for Sarah reach out and our hearts touched and united. Yet we were separate and happy and content. We sat for a while enjoying the feeling of love and peace that was with us.
I then had to go downstairs to the lower level to check the wash, the timer had beeped. Walking was so strange—I physically felt my legs moving, but they felt numb and heavy. As I descended the stairs, though, I felt myself walking down out of that cloud of heaven or love. It was gone when we came back upstairs, but the feeling of love and peace stayed. It was not all-consuming as in the light or the cloud afterwards, but something special stayed.
Then came Sarah’s last night with us. We had taken her to the ER, they put her on monitors and stuck her in a bed; I longed to hold her. I hadn’t slept in days, except for brief spaces with Sarah. She had been running a fever and that night passed out. As soon as I sat in the chair, I fell asleep. It was hours later when I woke up with a start. Warning bells rang. Time had passed—hours—and no one had fed Sarah.
Then Sarah woke with a cry. I got out her formula and started to fix it. The nurse came in. I picked up Sarah to feed her and she almost passed out. I told the nurse to get the doctor it was going to happen again. She said she didn’t want to wake the doctor unless something was going on. Sarah took one little drink, then her eyes rolled back and her sats dumped. The nurse went to call, but I knew it was too late. There was nothing they could do.
As the nurse phoned, I turned to Sarah and suddenly I felt a strength come over me. My back was to the staff and I felt myself shut them out. I felt a heavy weight, as a cloak, lifted from my shoulders. Then a surge of strength entered me and went up my back. It felt as though my soul just opened up and it was just Sarah and I. For that moment, it was as though only our spirits existed and our bodies were only there. Then the nurses came back and I watched Sarah’s sats and heart monitor drop and flat line. “Code Blue” was sounded and then everyone was there.
I prayed now that God would take her. I knew there was no way Sarah could survive what they were doing to her, especially in her fragile condition. There was a huge lump in my throat and I could not stop them. Finally, it was over, and they turned to ask me if I wanted to hold Sarah. My heart was so heavy, it felt like a lead weight. The nurse that asked, took one look at me and ran and got me a chair. Then she took out the tubing—the other nurse was protesting that it was against hospital policy, but the nurse did it anyway, and gave Sarah to me. I moved her and she rattled. I just had to make sure she was dead. I couldn’t feel any love for Sarah. I felt nothing. I just knew she was gone.
In the days that followed her death I could barely stand knowing that she was buried in that cold, frozen, frigid ground. I don't know how I got through those days or how the family did. I could not remember anything and would leave my other children stranded at school or wherever, because I could not remember to pick them up. Being in shock is probably a good way of summing up that period of time.
The Lord had sent His Comforter. I know the vision I saw was of Sarah in heaven. I now cannot imagine a life without God, without the Lord, our Savior, without His Love! That a God so awesome, so powerful, would come to me, to forgive and love me and to have loved my little baby so very much! There is no sin or hurt He cannot take away. Truly I love This God, our Heavenly Father, and Lord, Jesus Christ.
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