Like any good mother,
when Karen found out
that another baby was
on the way, she did what
she could to help her 3-
year-old son, Michael,
prepare for a new
sibling.
The new baby was going
be a girl, and day after
day, night after night,
Michael sang to his sister in Mommy’s tummy. He was
building a bond of love with his little sister before he
even met her.
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active
member of the the Creek United Methodist Church in
Morristown, Tennessee, USA.
In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five
minutes, every three, every minute. But serious
complications arose during delivery and Karen found
herself in hours of labor.
Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was
born. But she was in very serious condition. With a
siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the
infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s
Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee.
The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The
pediatrician had to tell the parents there was very little
hope. Be prepared for the worst. Karen and her
husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot.
They had fixed up a special room in their house for
their new baby they found themselves having to plan
for a funeral.
Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him
see his sister. “I want to sing to her,” he kept saying.
Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would
come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging
about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in
Intensive Care.
Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or
not. If he didn’t see his sister right then, he may never
see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub
suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking
laundry basket.
The head nurse recognized him as a child and
bellowed, “Get that kid out of here now. No children are
allowed.”
The mother rose up strong in Karen and the usually
mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the
head nurse’s eyes, her lips a firm line, “He is not leaving
until he sings to his sister.”
Then Karen towed Michael to his sister’s bedside. He
gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a
moment, he began tossing. In the pure-hearted voice of
a 3-year-old, Michael sang:
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me
happy when skies are gray.”
Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse
rate began to calm down and became steady.
“Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with
tears in her eyes.
“You never know, dear, how much I love you, please
don’t take my sunshine away.”
As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained
breathing became as smooth as a kitten’s purr. “Keep
on singing, sweetheart.”
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I
held you in my arms”.
Michael’s little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest,
seemed to sweep over her. “Keep singing, Michael.”
Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head
nurse. Karen glowed.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t
take my sunshine away…”
The next day,…the very next day…the little girl was well
enough to go home.
