I believe in never giving up hope. As a young child I was filled with hope and joy. When I was seven I was so excited when I heard my aunt was pregnant. I waited for what seemed like a century for the baby to come. When she finally had her baby we rushed to the hospital. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to hear. As we pulled into the hospital I was ready to go inside, but my mom stopped me. She turned to me and I instantly knew something was wrong. My mom told me in a soft voice that my new cousin had a birth defect and only has half his left arm. Thoughts raced through my mind. I started crying at the thought of my baby cousin and what his future will be like. When I stopped crying we went inside.
As we walked through the hallway I was afraid of what I might see. What would his arm look like? When we got to the room I was nervous. The door opened and I saw my family happy as can be. I looked at the hospital bed and in it were my aunt, her first son Dakota, and a small baby wrapped in a blanket. I walked closer and slowly crawled into the bed. “His name is Braden,” my aunt told me. She put his small fragile body into my arms. I held his tiny hand in mine and looked at his sleepy face. I was so busy looking at his precious face that didn’t even notice his arm. At that moment I knew everything was going to be fine. That night I lost hope, but quickly gained it back.
Years later it seems like our family is falling apart. Braden is acting really badly, his mom is in rehab, Dakota has to move away with his father, and much more. Even though things are tough for us, Braden seems to always have a smile. He has taught me to never give up hope. Seeing his smile brings me back to the day I held him in my arms. No matter what I haven’t lost hope and I hope you never do too.