I believe in heaven.
That moment when my little sister died in my mother’s arms was one of the worst experiences of my life, but also the day I first believed. At five years old I never expected to experience death. I remember the smell of the hospital and the ugly worn gowns that we had to wear. Few were let into the room and those that were had to wear masks and scrub their hands until they practically bled.
My whole experience started when my mother found out the she was pregnant with triplets. At first I was a little disappointed because I, at the time, was the only child and knew that once the new babies arrived I would receive minimum attention. Of course many children at five years of age are very self-centered, so naturally I began to become very needy.
As the anticipated time of the triplets’ arrival drew closer, things began to get complicated. I remember how sick my mother got and the weeks that she was practically glued to the couch. Naturally, since she weighed so very much, walking and moving was unimaginably painful and dangerous for her. The doctor’s feared that if she were to walk she could go into early labor.
I don’t exactly remember how the events of what happened next unfolded, but I do remember feeling lost and afraid. Around the sixth month of my mother’s pregnancy, her tiny body could no longer handle the three babies. The children in her womb began to literally poison her. I remember the ambulance and my grandparents coming to pick me up.
After only 6 months in the womb, my little sisters were the ugliest things I had ever seen. Their bodies were no larger than the size of my father’s hand and their faces were all shriveled and pruney looking. Seeing them through the incubator glass showed me how needy they were. I later was informed that the babies were very sick and were at risk for death. Hearing this made me feel ashamed for thinking that they were ugly.
Only a few weeks after my sisters’ arrival, one of the baby girls became very sick. I was told that her brain was bleeding and that it would not stop. The doctor’s tried everything they could but nothing helped.
My mother was told that there was no hope for the baby, she would not live. They told her that she could hold her while she died so that she would be comforted. As the men in the white coats placed the dying child into my mother’s arms, I watched the life be drained right from her. My little sister, Ariel Cynthia Crockett, died slowly in my mother’s arms.
Everybody began to cry, and then something beyond belief occurred. A radiant smile erupted across the lifeless child’s face. The doctor’s could not believe their eyes; they said that it was impossible for her to smile after she was already dead. Upon visualizing my little sister smile, hope was placed in my heart. We all new that she had become an angel in that very moment, that God had wrapped his arms around her frail body and carried her home. Ariel is now my little angel, watching over me and holding my hand every step of my journey. She waits for me at heaven’s gates until it’s my time to enter into paradise.
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