ANNIE GRACE SABIN - March 30, 2010 - August 1, 2010

ANNIE GRACE SABIN - March 30, 2010 - August 1, 2010


Wednesday, November 30, 2011

For Every Untold Story

This year, our family decided to do another tree for Annie at the Festival of Trees. We miss her always, but somehow, it hurts even more during the holidays. This past Halloween, I followed behind my two little daughters, both dressed in their princess costumes, when my heart was pierced with the thought that there should be one more- I should have three little princesses running ahead of me on the sidewalk. While we cannot keep ourselves from the "if only's," planning and decorating Annie's tree has proven to be therapeutic for our entire family. It feels good to honor and remember Annie in this way and we are always happy to give back to the hospital that invested so much in her. Thank you to all who helped. Thank you for your love... it means the world to us.


Our sweet Annie Grace was born on March 30, 2010. In spite of her serious heart defects, we had many reasons to hope for her future, and we dreamed of the day that we would bring her home to our family. We held onto that hope as she faced her first open-heart surgery at three-and-a-half weeks of age. We clung to that hope when she endured, yet another, open-heart surgery at just over two-months old. As the days and weeks stretched into months spent in the cardiac intensive care unit at PCMC (every day filled with endless procedures and surgeries), it was our hope that gave us the strength to walk through those hospital doors day after agonizing day. Near the end of Annie’s life, the doctors told us that there was no hope for Annie and that our dream of bringing her home would not be realized.

With broken hearts, we said goodbye to our blue-eyed angel on August 1, 2010. In four short months, Annie changed everything for us. While the doctors were right about most things, we are grateful that they were wrong about one thing: we still have hope for Annie… and we still dream of the Heavenly day when she will “come home” to our family. Until then, we will miss her every single day. We will miss first steps and first words. We will miss bedtime kisses and good-morning hugs. We will miss pigtails and ribbons and hair tied-up in bows. We will miss teaching her to drive and watching her fall in love. Until we have our Annie back again, we will deeply miss her “every untold story.”