My days were numbered from the very start

I fought for every breath due to my heart

My PDA closing I started to gasp

Just trying to breathe became such a task

The medicines they worked for a couple of days

But my heart still beating like I was running a race

It was beating so fast it was wearing me out

My heart was failing there was not doubt

My parents were worried, distressed, and confused

The tears now flowing due to the news

Tomorrows the day I go under the knife

I’m not even two weeks and fighting for my life

My lactic’s were climbing and my function so poor

I had not the energy to play on the floor

I’m feeling so weak I just want to sleep

Something my mom is watching is starting to beep

I can hear them talking but just don’t understand

I am still comforted by the warmth of her hand

The tone in her voice as she started to speak

Something about Jesus and my soul to keep

I have my eyes closed but I still see a light

I’m am very little but I know something’s not right

I hear my mom cry as I took my last breath

But I am to young fear this thing they call death

The first thing I saw when I reached towards the glow

Was the figure of a man that for some reason, I know

He wrapped me in his arms and I felt so safe

I reached up to him and I touched his warm face

He spoke so softly and as not to startle me so

He told me he loved me and was letting me go

He told me a story of my life yet to come

That one day my living would be witness to some

I don’t know why and I still can’t explain

But I opened my eyes when I felt a sharp pain

I took a deep breath and I started to cry

I looked up to see mom with a tear in her eye

Still hooked to wires and lying in bed

For some reason I’m stronger and wanting to be fed

My parents don’t know it but I saw God that day

He gave me more time to frolic and play

God has his reasons that some live and some die

What some parents have to endure leaves a question. Why?

I know it’s not fair but I don’t question the choice

I am a witness for him and I still have a voice

My heart isn’t normal but it’s perfect you see

Because without it there’s no story, no poem about me

I’m one of Gods miracles a testament to his grace

I was only a week old but I got to touch his face.

When my son lay dying in the hospital I often wondered what he was thinking, seeing, doing, and if he actually was with Jesus. I pictured him with other children sitting at Jesus feet playing Candy Land or Chuttes and Ladders but safe and without any pain. I am so happy, and maybe I am selfish, that he let me keep my son. I think God let me keep him to help me change my life. If my son hadn’t been sick I would have probably never listened to what God was telling me to do. Maybe that is why he takes some home and lets some stay. Maybe the parents of those who have lost their little one’s are already doing what God wants of their lives and he didn’t want to make them see their child suffer. The parents who have lost their children are my hero’s. They must have the strength of 1000 angels to get through life. I pray for them daily and I know one day they will be united with their little one.