Hope

Your room looks so big now. Your bed went to a little girl who needs it. 

Daddy and I scrubbed food off the walls, and the ceiling. I'm not quite sure how it got up there, but I suspect it was one time when we vented your tummy and forgot to cover the syringe. 

Linnaea just came up stairs and when she came into your room, she asked "Where are we?!?" I told her it was your room but you didn't need all the things anymore because you were with Heavenly Father and Jesus now. And that seemed to make total sense to her.  It makes sense in my brain, but my heart is still struggling.   

I look at the picture now and see the shadow of the two butterflies that still hang from your ceiling just at the top. The picture another T18 family gave me that says, "I can do hard things." (I need that reminder, this is hard!) The blanket Holli made for SuperAaron, with butterflies on the back of it, the one the Activity Days girls made many years ago to represent the Comforter, and the Minion on your cabinet. Daddy and I both laughed at that one. It doesn't look like you, per se, but it certainly conveys your spirit! 

And the pink sticky that says "Ambu bag inside." That one isn't needed anymore, but somehow I haven't thrown it away. 

I listed your van for sale today. We don't need it and someone else will. I hope it goes to someone who gets as much joy as you did. Cleaning it out actually brought a smile to my face as I remembered how wonderful it was to take you places, to see you light up and laugh as we'd go. And now you don't need those helps anymore. 

I was at the hospital again today for the open house. I saw the infusion rooms with the patio just outside and remembered how we advocated for that so that children wouldn't have to be confined to the rooms,  and the rooms themselves have big wide windows so even inside they can have sunlight. The NICU rooms have mini fridges for Mom's to put their breast milk in. And the trauma rooms have x-ray built in! Such a blessing for both the children and the staff.  

While there, I picked up a small blue stuffie. I named it "Hope." 

Hope for the children and families, hope for the staff, and hope that I can continue your legacy of hope. 

Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams. 

~S.A. Sachs