Free Bella's Gift by Rick Santorum

air and sunshine were the perfect medicines to begin healing my brokenness.
    When we arrived home, we heard pounding footsteps from upstairs and squeals of joy. “She’s home!” All the children were there to welcome their sister. As they rushed into the hallway, they beheld her. Their animated excitement turned quickly into hushed, awe-filled whispers. The little boys started tiptoeing closer, eyes wide with anticipation. Gathering around her, they were all mesmerized.
    Bella had fallen asleep in the car but had begun to shift and awaken to the sound of their voices. A pink hat hid her curly hair, and her rosy skin lay against the soft, downy blankets surrounding her. Such serenity. We watched as her long eyelashes batted awake, revealing her sea-blue eyes that moved to take in all the faces surrounding her. Sarah reached and grabbed Elizabeth’s hand. Caught up in the moment, I felt aknot forming in my throat and then Rick’s arm around me. Strength returned to my limbs.
    Above the doorway to our family room, our children had hung a huge, colorful birthday sign, lovingly decorated with crayons. It read, “Happy 1-Week Birthday Bella!” The kitchen table was covered with cards, frosted pink cupcakes, balloons, and, of course, pink roses. Bella quickly roused from her nap as she took in all the excitement. The children took turns holding her. They were all so gentle, tender, and loving as she was placed in their arms. Swaddled and drowsy, her yawns stirred choruses of “aah” from all, even the older boys.
    All the children had visited with Bella in the NICU and had held her many times, but now they had the luxury of holding her for longer than a few minutes and without all the tubes and wires. Elizabeth, who had just celebrated her seventeenth birthday, was old enough to understand the implications of Bella’s diagnosis. She appeared strained, heavyhearted, and lost in thought as she stared into the eyes of her goddaughter. Her eyes welled with tears as she told me that she was so grateful for her little angel, no matter how long she would be with us. Our fifteen-year-old, John, reacted differently. He was nervous about holding her and offered to go last. He later told me he was afraid of breaking her because she was so small.
    Daniel, who was twelve, couldn’t stop looking at Bella’s toes and fingers; they were delicate and small as a doll’s. Considering his big heart and quiet demeanor, it was little surprise that Peter tried to hold Bella the tightest. We had to remind this sweet ten-year-old that she was fragile, but he just loved her so! Our youngest boy was Patrick, age six, and he glowed with the pride of a newly crowned king. He had joinedthe ranks of the “big brothers” and was entirely pleased with himself. He wanted to hold her for the longest, and he talked to her about all the scary things he would protect her from: dragons, bears, and piranhas would never touch her.
    Later on, our dear friend Susie came over to take a family picture of us. She was a steadfast and devoted friend who was such a great blessing to our family during this painful time. Gathering the kids, we went outside and snapped away. I remember the beauty of that spring day: the garden in bloom, the earth alive again, and the smell of honeysuckle. The heat felt welcoming as its tender touch soothed me. I had been cold for so long.
    Taking a family picture is not an easy feat when you have seven kids to organize. Nonetheless, the family picture we took that day would become an important memory for us. Every physician we spoke to had said that Bella would surely die after a few days. If we were exceptionally lucky, they had said, she would live for a month. With those words ringing in my ears, I wanted a moment to capture our family while Bella was with us.
    Click. Flash. Stop. The boys were in their worn T-shirts and shorts, so we had them change into something a little better and brush their hair, something I need to remind my