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March 2002
Page 17

Little Angel's Message
by Carly

Last May our daughter gave birth to our first granddaughter, Savannah Lee. I'll never forget that morning. The phone rang at 6:30 a.m. At first I didn't answer it because the caller ID was showing unknown caller. Finally, after about 20 rings, I picked up the phone, ready to chew someone out. It was my son-in-law; they were at the hospital. He was crying as he told me that my daughter's water had broken while she was sleeping about 4:30 a.m. I told him I was on my way. Before I left, I called my husband. He was working out of town, about six hours away, and told him I would keep him posted.

Needless to say, when I got to the hospital, the doctors told us that there was nothing they could do to stop her labor and the safest thing for my daughter would be to go on and induce her to reduce risk of infection. I called my husband back and he said he was getting things ready at the job so he could head home, he would get home as soon as he could.

Before the baby was born, the pediatricians from the neo-natal unit came in and explained what, if anything, they would be doing if there were signs that she had a chance of survival. They told my daughter and her husband that the baby would probably only live for about 15 minutes. They decided that if her lungs were not developed enough, they didn't want to do anything that would prolong suffering; they wanted to keep her in the room with them for as long as she would be here.

Savannah was born at 5:00 p.m. The doctors delivered the bad news to her parents that her lungs were not developed enough even for a respirator. By this time, a lot of their friends and other family had gathered, but her Papaw (my husband) had still not made it. I was keeping him posted by cell phone as he was on his way home. A friend of ours, who is a minister, came to the hospital and they asked him if he would baptize her. It was a beautiful little service right there in the room. We all got to hold her, pass her around and tell her how much we loved her and would miss her. Everyone except her Papaw. The little angel lasted until 7:30 p.m. He got there at 8:00 p.m. She was still in the room, so he did get to hold her for as long as he wanted.

Now for the strange part of this story. My husband has this almost annoying way of not dealing with things sometimes. Months later, I said something about our granddaughter and he said, "Well, it's not like she was our granddaughter." I was furious and a little surprised by that, but I didn't say anything, though I wanted to. It wasn't until October that I found out why I didn't.

In October on a Sunday morning, my husband was out in the yard running the leaf blower. I was in the kitchen making breakfast. I kept hearing the blower turn on and off. Suddenly, I looked up and my husband was standing in the dining room with the strangest look on his face. He had been crying. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "God has the strangest way of straightening me out." He proceeded to tell me that while he was running the blower he kept hearing a child say, "Papaw." He would turn it off look all around, and couldn't see a child anywhere. Finally, he answered the child and said, "Savannah, is that you?" And she answered, "Yes. I just wanted to tell you that I'm okay. It's okay."

I call him skeptical because I have had experiences with things like this before, and so have my mother and sister. He thought we were all crazy or he acted like that's what he thought. Now I don't think he's so sure because he's been straightened out by his granddaughter.

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