"It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah"

Today is the day we celebrate the baby's short life. I'm unable to attend the calling hours, but I'm thinking of the family all day.

It's an odd thing to think about, really, the death of an infant. It doesn't seem like death is supposed to be a part of an infant's life. Death is a part of life for someone older. Not even that old, even 20 years old. At least at 20, it seems like a natural progression. We grow and grow and grow until we're done growing, and then what's left? Death. But with a baby, he's just begun growing. His life started as one cell, joined with a second. And division and multiplication took place and now he's a million little cells. Little cells with years left of dividing and multiplying. Some of his bones aren't even hard yet. His hair isn't real hair yet. His eyes aren't even able to see further than a few inches away. The natural progression would be for his bones to form, his hair to coarsen, and his eyes to focus. Not for him to die without even experiencing the warmth of his own home.

It's fun to think about what Anthony's personality would be like. Would he be quiet and studious? Outgoing and a class clown? An athletic do-gooder? Or like his father, on a mission to spread the word of God? We'll never know, but I'm sure Christen and Anthony will always wonder what life would be like if their other children had an older brother. It's a shame he never got to grow up. I hope they heal quickly. And know they're lucky to have met such an amazing person; a person with, yes, a short life, but a strong one. Blessings to everyone who was touched by Anthony's story.

Lullabye

My mom was married and pregnant before she even hit her 20th birthday. She somehow got enough courage and strength to leave a very bad situation and move in to an old apartment in a bad neighborhood with her sister; the two of them cared for my oldest sister, Janet. Janet is 14 years older than me. My mom soon became friends with a young woman down the hall named Joy.

I've known Joy since the day I was born. Joy's daughters, Desiree, Christen, and Lindsay, were like my sisters growing up. Desiree was older and babysat Christa and I. Christen and Lindsay were close to Christa's and my age. Lindsay is getting married this year, and Christen was due for her baby to arrive in February of this year.

I feel so bad, because I was unable to make it to Christen's baby shower. She sent a thank you card for the cute clothes. The card said she was going to bring little baby Anthony home in the outfit my mom picked out.

I got a voice mail from my mom. She sounded sad, like she'd been crying. I called her back and heard the bad news. Christen went in for a routine check-up, only to find no heartbeat. She was emergently prepped for Cesarean and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, weighing just under 7 pounds. He was perfect, except that his little lungs weren't expanding, nor his heart contracting. No blood flow to his little brain, a brain that might someday rule the world.

"Code Pink."

It was over a day later that Christen and her husband Anthony found out that little Anthony had to be resuscitated and placed on a ventilator.

Now, it's up to prayers and miracles to get him better. So he can hear his first lullabye.

Pray for Anthony and Christen's baby