7 Years in Heaven

Happy Happy 7th Birthday to our youngest who's celebrating 7 years in heaven today.

Last Fall Kevin and Gracie were talking about some of the things she remembered about Baby Kevin, his birth, and grave side service.

Kevin suggested she write her memories down, so she did.  

With her permission, I'll share them below.

That's our Gracie, taking the selfie.

You can go HERE to read about how we celebrated Kevin Jr's 7th Birthday.

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January 9th, 2012

I remember the date, I never forgot it. It is embedded in the back of my mind and even though I was only 7, I knew it would be important to remember.

We had just gotten home from school (me and Kloe,) and we were looking for our mom. She wasn't in the kitchen or the laundry room as usual. Finally, we found her in her room sitting in her bed, and it looked as if she had been crying. I knew something was wrong because her bed wasn’t made. Her bed is always made. I could tell something was off and I knew Kloe could too, and it was making me uncomfortable.

She went on to explain that she had been at the Doctor’s earlier in the day and they had found some things wrong with the baby. He had something called Trisomy 13 and he was most likely not going to live. Kloe started tearing up a little bit, and mom did too. I didn’t cry. I tried to because I felt out of place being the only one who wasn't crying, but I hadn’t fully wrapped my mind around what she had just said. I couldn’t believe it.

As the days went on and we talked about the baby’s sickness and what it was, I finally started to understand. But there was no way that the baby was really going to die, I knew it in my heart. In The Friend, and in Primary they had always told us that if you pray a lot and have faith, then miracles happen. I knew my little brother wasn’t going to die because I had faith. I thought I had it all figured out. Sometimes my family was sad about it but I knew they didn’t need to be. They’ll see. I thought. He will live, and I will tell them that I knew it because I had faith... and then they will write a story about us in The Friend.

I prayed every day that the little baby would get better, that his sickness would be taken away, and that by some miracle he would live. I prayed whenever the thought came to me. I’d be at school working on my school work, and I would think about the baby, shut my eyes and say a little prayer in my heart. Bless that he’ll be okay, bless that he’ll live.  

My mom started to have a little mantra of “believe” and our whole family sort of adopted that word as our new motto. To me, “believe” meant- believe that the baby will live. But looking back what I think it was supposed to mean was- believe that Heavenly Father has a plan for our family and for the baby, even if it’s different than what we think is best. I knew that I believed, and I probably told Heavenly Father that I believed at least a thousand times between January 9th and May 10th. Every once in a while doubt would cross my mind. But what if he doesn’t live? But that was impossible. Babies don’t actually die, not when your whole family is praying and going to church and believing.

May 10th, 2012

We were sitting on the floor of my Spanish teacher, Sra. Guizar’s room and a guest speaker had come to talk to us. She hadn’t been there very long and was just starting to talk about the importance of washing our hands when the intercom came on and said that I was getting checked out to go home. I stood up and walked to the back of the room, a lump forming in my throat. As I finally got past all the first graders, my English teacher, Mrs. Madahamari stopped me and grabbed my arm.

“Be brave,” she said. I felt like I might cry, but on the inside, I felt peace. I felt like I should be sad or nervous or scared but I wasn’t. Not even a little bit. We went home and my mom’s cousin Kaylee got us ready. Then we went to go pick up Koda from junior high. We were sitting in the Eisenhower parking lot in mama Jan’s car for what felt like hours. I didn’t know what was taking Dakota so long but I felt really anxious like we were in a big rush. I guess I felt like if we didn’t get there soon it would be too late. Eventually, Koda came out and we were off.

I thought for sure we were lost. We had been driving for-e-ver. And the road we were driving on wasn’t even a road, it was just dirt! I thought we were going to one of the hospitals near us, but this was taking way too long.

Please bless that we won’t be lost anymore, please bless that we won’t fall off this mountain, please bless that we’ll get there in time, I prayed.

Turns out we weren’t lost, Grandma had just missed the exit and decided to take an alternative route that involved a sketchy mountain path.

Finally, we arrived at the hospital. Now I was starting to get butterflies. I still felt peace in the background, but overall I was sort of worried.

What if I do something wrong? What if I accidentally hurt him? What if I'm the only one that cries?

We walked in and everything was quiet. There were lots of people in that tiny room, and quite a few of them were crying. Everyone was giving hugs, and taking turns holding the sweet little baby. When mom asked if I wanted to hold him I said no. I didn’t want to risk dropping him or holding him wrong. After a few more people held him mom asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to hold him. I really really did want to hold him, but I was so afraid of dropping him. I eventually opted for holding him with moms help while sitting on the hospital bed with her. He was so perfect. And warm. I wondered if he was still alive or not, but I didn’t dare ask.

Going into that hospital room I knew deep down that he wasn’t going to live, there wasn’t going to be a miracle. But holding him, and being there with all our family I realized he was a miracle. We blew out candles on his tiny cake and sang happy birthday, but when I tried to sing no words came out. I think that’s when reality hit me and I started to cry a little.

Papa Tom said a really long prayer, and I tried to pay attention, but my thoughts kept wandering. My mom’s best friend Marci was standing right behind me and she had her arms around me, wrapping me in a big hug. She was crying too, and her tears were getting on my head. For the rest of the prayer, all I could think about was Marci’s tears falling on my head.

May 19th, 2012

I remember the mortuary, the cozy room that we were all standing in, and the feeling of comfort I felt in there. I remember several of my aunts and uncles taking turns holding my brother, but most vividly I remember uncle Scott. I had always seen him as a big tough guy, and I couldn’t believe it when I saw him crying. Aunt Kim cried, aunt Tricia cried, everyone was crying. I recognized that it wasn’t Baby Kevin’s face or the fact that he had passed that made them cry because I could remember the feeling I felt when I was holding him in the hospital. It was the first time I can remember where I really felt the spirit. I knew that they were crying because they felt it too. I felt a lot of peace that day. I guess there’s a reason they call the Spirit “The Comforter.”

Getting to the grave site was such an odd experience, I had only been there a few times in my life but now I’ve been more than I can count. I remember watching Dakota and Jackson carry Baby Kevin’s casket to the patch of fake grass a little ways away. Their faces were red and they were both crying. I had never seen my big brothers cry except in the hospital room, but now seeing them so sad just made me sad. I didn’t like seeing all the people in my family cry. Especially my big brothers.

I spent the rest of the funeral in and out of tears. I remember feeling Janie grab my arm during the prayer, and normally I would have shrugged her off or got annoyed but I didn’t care. I was just glad she was there. There was a lot of hugging during the service. I’ve never given so many hugs in my life.

I remember taking pictures with the whole family, and not knowing how to hold my violin. It is such an odd shaped instrument to hold elegantly. I was really worried about that, but the picture turned out ok.

I remember exactly where I sat at the Dude Ranch a while later. On the big table in the back on the right-hand side, two seats down, next to Karter. Everyone was so loud. I felt like they needed to be quiet. It didn’t feel right to be talking so much after such a nice, reverent service. Karter kept messing around, trying to get me to play sword fight with him with those little plastic swords they put in the sandwiches and making jokes. I wished everyone would be quiet. If we had sat and eaten in complete silence, that would have been perfectly fine with me.

In the years since Baby Kevin’s birth, I have learned so much about eternal families, life after death, and the Atonement. Baby Kevin truly is our anchor in heaven. Although our family didn’t get the miracle I was expecting, I know that it was all part of a bigger plan that Heavenly Father had for us and in a way, we got a far greater miracle… an angel brother in heaven. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

You can read Jackson's perspective HERE

You can read Kloe's thoughts HERE

You can read Emmy's essay about Baby Kevin HERE