22 days...that is all it took for this strong little girl to change our lives forever. Such a short time for such big changes. Here is my story. See I knew the NICU and PICU existed, but that was always an over there kind of thing. I was so scared to walk into NICU that first time, but my love for Kennedy was too great to ignore. So I scrubbed up and put on those lovely yellow gowns and went to meet my niece. The feelings running through me thoes next thirty minutes were indescribable. Through all of that I remember the look on my sisters face as she introduced me to niece, the pride and love. She was scared but she was strong. She was no longer just my sister, she was a mother. it wasn't until Kennedy was moved into the PICU that I began to realize that I was changing. Looking in at Kenni so small on such a giant bed, so many machines and medicine pumping into her tiny body. But also looking out and realizing she was just one of many in that small corner of the hospital. Seeing the faces of parents who understood the terror and hope coursing though my sister. The way every head would turn when an alarm went off, and often times bow to say a quick prayer. I realized that these parents aren't like normal parents. They weren't numbering the weeks till their child heald their head up on their own, they were praying for their child to breath on their own. Praying that their heart would continue to pump on its own. It was all so foreign to me. Kennedy introduced me to a world where children had fight for their life before they said their first word. It was amazing and eye opening. It wasn't until some months after Kennedy passed on that the thought to do more hit me again. My sister asked me to go with her to a Halloween party for her heart family and I agreed. I had no idea how that night would change me. I walked into that room only to be met by twenty or so kids running around in various costumes with a look of pure excitment. At first glance it was just another Halloween party. But if you look closer you'll notice the scar on the neck of the little ballerina, the feeding tube hooked around spiderman's ear, the diaper bags filled with medicine instead of toys. And they all had one thing in common, the scar running down the center of their chest. They were survivors. At dinner I sat down next to a lady who was excited and anxious about an upcoming meeting at the school. Me being nosey I asked how old her son was and was surprised to learn he was just three years old. Continuing to be nosey, I asked more questions and she explained that her son has spent his first three years in and out of the hospital and was delayed in his development. She was confident that he would overcome these delays because her son was obviously a fighter. This woman gave me my first taste of special education in the real world. I looked around and realized that some of these vibrant children would need that extra boost in school. They had fought so hard to live that some of the normal milestones were missed or delayed. That next semester I decided to take a class about special education and I was hooked. This December I will graduate as special education teacher. Kennedy opened my eyes to a whole new world and I am forever grateful. She will always be the angel that inspired me to do more.
Aunt Kirsten's Story
