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Pastimes : Happy Hour: A thread for not so intelligent discussions -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Barney who wrote (1382)	8/6/1999 11:43:00 AM
From: Susie924	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 2380

I received this in a PM this morning from a very nice person. I think it's something that we can all get something out of. Caveat - this is a tear jerker. (at least for the females it is) ***************** You Are My Sunshine Like any mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her three year old son Michael prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael would sing to his sister in Mommy's tummy. The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen. Then the labor pains came, every five minutes...every minute. But complications arose during delivery and there were hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care facility. The days inch by. The little girl's condition declines. The pediatric specialist tells the parents "There is very little hope." Karen and her husband had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby. Now they contact the local cemetery about a burial plot and plan a funeral. Michael keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister. "I want to sing to her," he says. Week two in Intensive Care: It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive. She dresses him in an oversize scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows "Get that kid out of here now! No children allowed!" The mother rises up strong in Karen , and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steely-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lip a firm line and says "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!" Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing in the pure-hearted voice of a three year old: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are gray..." Instantly the baby girl responds to the familiar-sounding voice. Her pulse rate becomes calm and steady. "Keep on singing, Michael." "You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..." The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr. "Keep on singing, Michael." "The other night dear, as I lay sleeping; I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. "Keep singing, Michael." Tears conquer the face of the head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; please don't take my sunshine away." Funeral plans are forgotten. The next day - the very next day - the little girl is well enough to go home. Women's Day Magazine called it "the miracle of the brother's song." Never give up on people you care about. >From the Birthright International Newsletter