by Catharine Rasband

Created on: March 25, 2009

My tears fell silently, while I prayed vocally for help. I was sitting in the small bedroom rocking my two week old baby. In the room was a crib, and a single bed. The bed was empty. When my sweet baby girl was less than two weeks old, we had a fire in our home. It was started accidentally by my two year-old son. As he was in the middle of it, we were unable to save him.

I had worried so much prior to the baby's birth. Was the baby going to be healthy? Would I be able to handle six children. Besides these normal worries, I had a couple of extra ones thrown in. My seven year-old daughter had a heart defect that had just been diagnosed and she'd had to undergo open heart surgery; and my mother, who was supposed to fly to Atlanta and help me with the new baby, had had to undergo emergency surgery to remove a lump on her lung.

Life went forward. My daughter's heart surgery went so well that when she came home I had to forbid her to go out to play in the snow a rarity in Georgia (She was so disappointed). My mother's lump proved to be benign, and the birth of my healthy baby girl was a joyous event. Everything was going well. And then, just 12 days later, I was brutally kicked out of my Garden of Eden.

The night before the funeral, we retired to an unfamiliar bed and bedroom. Because of the fire we couldn't stay in our own home. The Bishop of our church opened his home to us and warmed us with his open arms. Consumed by pain, I nursed the baby to sleep, and put her down. I wanted nothing more than to sleep forever. Unfortunately, as any mother of a newborn knows, sleeping forever was impossible. Within just a couple of hours she was crying and I was beside myself with the need for obliviona chance to escape my pain for just a little while. My husband calmed me and reminded me to be patient with this precious child.

Following the funeral, we were able to return to our home. My younger sister had flown in and planned to stay for a few days. She kindly offered to take the baby at night so I could sleep. She fed her a bottle in the night, then brought her to me to nurse first thing in the morning. This was one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever been given. It wasn't long, though, before I realized that the greatest gift of all had truly been given me from my Heavenly Father. This precious baby girl. Crista would help me to be able to heal.

I learned quickly that as I immersed myself in caring for Crista and the four older children, I could forget myself and my own suffering.

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