Merry Christmas 2010: Our Letter And Card

Dear Loved Ones,
I have given much thought to what I might share in our family Christmas card this year. In the past, this letter has included fun tid-bits about each child and a general picture of how our year went. I can’t think of any tid-bits to share this year. Not because there aren’t any, and not because we haven’t laughed at plenty of funny things that our kids have said or done, but because 2010 has been a remarkable year for our family. This year will always be defined by the life and death of our youngest daughter, Annie. Many of you have followed the details of our journey with Annie on her blog. Those that haven’t and would like to know more can find her story at anniesinmyheart.blogspot.com.

Last month I was asked to speak to a group of women and was given the topic, "Angels Among Us." I was grateful for the opportunity that this gave me to express gratitude for the angels that have blessed our lives this year. It is this same topic that is on my mind as I write this letter.

There is a scripture found in the Doctrine and Covenants that I have loved for as long as I can remember. It is the 88th verse of the 84th section and it reads, "And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up."

15 years ago, I spoke at my brother’s missionary farewell. I shared this scripture and bore testimony that I knew that angels would accompany him on his two-year mission to Argentina. I knew that when he found himself in a foreign land among strangers and far from home and family, unseen angels would be with him and, as promised in this verse of scripture, they would encircle round about him and bear him up. I knew that angels would protect him; they would comfort him; they would guide his feet and bless his journey.

Just over four months ago, I shared this same scripture at my daughter’s funeral. My testimony of unseen angels was stronger than ever after spending four months in a hospital that had become sacred ground to me. Never has the veil been as thin for me as it was during the many weeks that I spent within the halls and walls of Primary Children’s Hospital. I know that there were many unseen angels encircling me and my family and that they were sent to bear us up in our time of need.

However, when I shared this scripture and mentioned angels at Annie’s funeral, I was not referring to these unseen angels. Instead, I was speaking of the many people that had become angels in our lives through their love and Christ-like service to our family.

Before Annie was born, Cameron and I, knowing of her heart defects, tried to prepare for every scenario we could imagine. Upon her arrival, we were quickly humbled as we realized that our preparation was no match for what we faced. There was no way we could do it all. We could not even come close to taking care of the needs of our family at home while investing the time and energy necessary at the hospital with Annie. There was simply not enough of either one of us to go around. We quickly set priorities, letting things like yard work and housework fall to the bottom of the list. Even then, we needed to feed and care for five children at home. They still needed rides to school and clean clothes to wear. Groceries still had to be bought and food still needed to be placed on the table. While all these things needed to happen, we were consumed with anxiety and grief for the suffering of our youngest daughter – sometimes so much so, that it was hard to function in any capacity outside of her hospital room. It was too much for any family to carry alone and we needed help – lots and lots of help.

Our need was great, and just as promised in the scripture that I shared previously, Heavenly Father sent angels to encircle our family and bear us up. He sent angels to feed our children, to wash our clothes and tend our little ones. He sent angels to drive kids to school and angels to visit us at the hospital. He even sent angels to weed our yard, mow our lawn and mop our floors. Angels left cards and notes and treats on our doorstep. They filled our mailbox and our inbox with words of love and encouragement. Angels brought groceries and planted flowers. They spent lots of time making sure that our five children at home felt loved and not forgotten. When Annie died, He sent angels to help us plan her funeral and honor her life. Angels came and went, often anonymously and without recognition for their good deeds. Words will never be able to adequately express our deep gratitude to these many angels. Whenever we talk about Annie’s life and the service that we received from so many, Cameron and I both describe the feeling that we had for four months was that of being carried – carried by angels in our ward and in our family, angels that worked at the hospital and angels that we also know as friends.

The scars from this experience are still fresh. We know that we will never be the same. Our hearts have never ached like they sometimes do now that Annie is gone. But our hearts have also never been filled with gratitude like they are now. We have a new appreciation for the many things with which we have been blessed, and angels are at the top of our list. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said that "heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind." We have felt heaven close. We have felt God’s love for us and know just of what Elder Holland speaks. We are deeply grateful that God, knowing that we would suffer such loss, took great care to place us among so many angels that could and would help us lift what seemed an impossible burden. Thank you for being our angels.

Merry Christmas and much love,
Cameron, Amy, Austin, Ashleigh, Hayden, Ellie and Hadley Sabin

Annie's Tree

Through the incredible generosity of others, we were able to honor Annie with a tree at the Festival of Trees this year. Cameron's co-workers at Stoel Rives offered to sponsor the tree, and our families helped to supply the gifts beneath it. Thank you to all who made this happen! Cameron and I were both surprised at how therapeutic this was for us. We miss her so much and can't help but imagine what our holiday season might be like if she were here. Her stocking hangs on the mantle with those of our other children, reminding us every day of our sixth child that will never race up the stairs on Christmas morning to see what Santa brought for her. It lifted our hearts to decorate this beautiful tree, and pile all these beautiful gifts around it- gifts that she might have received if she were here. Again, we feel such deep gratitude to the people that have rallied around our family this year. Your love has made such a difference in our lives. We can't say thank you enough.

Below are pictures of Annie's tree and a copy of the bio that was included with her picture.

Annie's Bio for the Festival of Trees

On December 30, 2009, three months before she was born, we learned that our Annie had heart defects. Her official diagnosis was tetralogy of fallot with absent pulmonary valve. For the next several months, we waited anxiously for her birth, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. On March 30, 2010, Annie Grace Sabin was born, and we immediately fell in love with her. She surprised us all when she did not have to be placed on a ventilator at birth, and for three beautiful weeks, we were able to hold her in our arms and close to our hearts. While she fought for every breath during this time, we cherished every minute we had with her. However, as she struggled more and more to breathe, it was decided that she needed to have open-heart surgery, and, on April 23, we watched our tiny infant daughter go into the operating room for the first time. This photograph was taken the day before she was placed on a ventilator and two days before her first surgery. Never again, until the day she died, would we see her without the ventilator tube taped to her mouth. What we hoped would be fixed with a single surgery, turned into something much more complicated. Over the course of her four-month life, Annie endured four major surgeries (two requiring bypass) and multiple minor surgeries. She was taken to the brink of death several times and continually amazed us with her will to live. She fought valiantly to be here with us. Her fight allowed us precious time to memorize tender details: her beautiful blue eyes, her long slender fingers, and the dimple in the middle of her top lip. More importantly, these months gave us a chance to really know her gentle, patient spirit. Every day with Annie was a gift. She taught us so much in her short life. Annie died on August 1, 2010. Again in our arms and close to our hearts, she took her last breath and passed away peacefully. We miss her. We love her. We will never be the same.

Cameron and Amy Sabin

Never

The past month has been a bit of a whirlwind as we have said goodbye to our sweet daughter and worked to catch up on the "normal" lives we left behind when she was born. In general, we are doing as well as one could hope. Mostly, we are at peace, but it does feel like there will always be a hole in our hearts; a piece that we will never get back, at least not in this life. I suspect that the hole will become a part of our new normal without Annie, but, that in time, the pain will subside and it won't always hurt like it does now.

A few nights ago, I was looking through some of my old blog entries and realized that I didn't really finish the story of Annie's life very well. For those that have only followed her life through this blog, the end probably seemed abrupt. In some ways, it was, as we held onto our hope that she would turn a corner and get better until her very last day with us. The last month of Annie's life was filled with suffering for all of us. It was by far, the most painful thing I have ever endured, and I pray that I will never be called to pass through this kind of suffering again. However, there were so many sweet moments along the way and it is not hard to see that Annie's life was a remarkable gift to me and many others. I am deeply grateful for the four months I was given to know Annie and for the sweet that was mixed in with the bitter all along the way.

For those that did not attend Annie's funeral, I just want to share an excerpt from my talk as I feel it completes the story of her journey with us on this earth and gives you some idea of how we are coping with her death.

"Last winter, I read an article written by Elaine S. Dalton in which she related the true story of a young girl named Agnes. Agnes was a pioneer, and at nine years of age, she crossed the plains with the Willie Handcart Company in 1856. Agnes later recounted her own journey as follows:

Although only tender years of age, I can yet close my eyes and see everything in panoramic precision before me – the ceaseless walking, walking, ever to remain in my memory. Many times I would become so tired and, childlike, would hang on the cart, only to be gently pushed away. Then I would throw myself by the side of the road and cry. Then realizing they were all passing me by, I would jump to my feet and make an extra run to catch up.

She continues:

Just before we crossed the mountains, relief wagons reached us, and it certainly was a relief. The infirm and aged were allowed to ride, all able-bodied continuing to walk. When the wagons started out, a number of us children decided to see how long we could keep up with the wagons, in hopes of being asked to ride. At least that is what my hope was. One by one they all fell out, until I was the last one remaining, so determined was I that I should get a ride. After what seemed the longest run I ever made before or since, the driver…called to me, “Say, sissy would you like a ride?” I answered in my very best manner, “Yes sir.” At this he reached over, taking my hand, clucking to his horses to make me run with legs that seemed to me could run no farther. On we went, for what to me seemed miles. What went through my head at that time was that he was the meanest man that ever lived…Just at what seemed the breaking point, he stopped. Taking a blanket, he wrapped me up and lay me in the bottom of the wagon, warm and comfortable. Here I had time to change my mind, as I surely did, knowing full well by doing this he saved me from freezing when taken into the wagon.

My journey with Annie has been very different from Agnes’ journey across the plains, but it is not hard for me to relate to her story. In the beginning of her journey, even walking was difficult. She described throwing herself by the side of the road and crying, only to get up and keep going. I am sure she wished, at times, that she did not have to make the journey. At the start of my journey with Annie, I too cried and wished that I would not be required to make this journey. I cried about simply being pregnant, and cried even more when we learned about Annie’s heart. Like Agnes, I knew I had no choice but to get up and keep going. I know we both grew stronger as the journey progressed; muscles that had previously been dormant were stretched and exercised daily. Growth was happening every single day. And yet, the trail grew increasingly difficult for both of us. I would guess that she, like I, had days so dark that she wondered if she would ever see the sun again. The journey for each of us became almost unbearable. Agnes described running along the side of the wagon, holding to the driver’s hand, desperate for relief. She said that she felt she could run no farther and yet, he required her to run for what seemed like miles. There were so many days with Annie where I felt sure I could run no farther. Many times, I told my Heavenly Father in prayer that I could not endure even one more day and yet the days stretched on and on. Towards the end I felt my hand continually outstretched, seeking God’s. I knew that He was with me, but I could not always feel Him there. I was desperate for relief and ached for the Comforter to be with me. Agnes questioned the motives of the wagon driver and there were days when I wondered what a loving Heavenly Father was seeking to accomplish by allowing such extreme suffering. Agnes said that in the end, the wagon driver stopped, scooped her up, wrapped her in a blanket and laid her in the bottom of the wagon where she could rest. It was then that she knew that what she thought was cruelty on his part was actually mercy- an act that saved her very life. In the last moments of Annie’s life and after she had passed, I too felt as though I was lifted from my suffering, wrapped in the comfort of the Holy Ghost and carried in the arms of my Savior. At last, I could see that all was well, and in every way: physically, emotionally and spiritually, I finally found rest in Him. I was able to trust that these experiences, even the great suffering that we endured, will be for our eternal good.

I have been blessed to know that Annie accomplished all that she needed to on this earth. I feel deep gratitude to have the honor of being her mother. I know that she will stand as a beacon to our family, guiding us home to her. I count the time I had with her as one of the greatest blessings I will ever receive. She taught me more in her short life than I could have learned in a lifetime otherwise. I learned that a hospital can be sacred in many of the same ways that the temple is sacred; I learned the goodness of humanity- that the world is full of really good people, people that care about the suffering of others and are moved to help lift another’s burden; I learned what it feels like to have the Savior so close that His presence is almost palpable; I learned, as David A. Bednar once said, that 'the tender mercies of the Lord are real and they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence;' I learned that a loving Heavenly Father does not leave us alone in our trials and if we can’t feel Him we just need to hold on- in time, He will lift us from our suffering and we will feel the sun again; I learned a new appreciation for the gift our Savior gave to each of us when He was resurrected and made sure the promise that not only will Annie live again, but with a perfect heart- a beautiful gift that I will never take for granted."

I know that Annie is in a better place. I look forward with great anticipation to the day when I will be with her again. Until then, I hope the hole in my own heart will serve as a constant reminder to me of ALL that she taught me along the way- a reminder of how her life impacted mine for the better. I know that my heart will never forget those bright blue eyes and her even brighter spirit. I will never forget this beautiful angel daughter that graced my life with hers. Never.

Love You, Annie

Annie's memorial service was beautiful. I can't say thank you enough to all those who helped make it a wonderful day. Thank you to my ward members, friends and family for taking care of all the details. The table displays, the flowers, the balloons, the pictures and video, the programs, the luncheon: they were all perfect. Thank you to Hilary Weeks and Tyler Castleton for playing and singing the song "You Give," that has been on this blog for so many months. This song has carried me through more dark days than I count. Thank you to all of Annie's cousins for singing "The Family Is Of God"- you sounded beautiful! Thank you to my dad for offering the family prayer and to Cameron's dad and Bishop Brandt for speaking- you each brought the Spirit to Annie's day. And finally, thank you to all those that came to show their love and support to our family on Monday. Again, we were overwhelmed by the love of so many. It really was a sweet day: a beautiful tribute to a beautiful girl. We miss her so much it hurts, but have been surprised at how generally peaceful we have felt. We are so grateful that Annie is not suffering anymore. We feel joy in our knowledge of the plan of salvation- that we really do know that Annie is not gone from us forever. This little angel will always be a part of our family. A piece of my heart will forever be hers. I remember saying in the beginning that I knew I would never be the same after knowing and loving Annie. I can say today that this is the case. Among other things, because of her, I will love a little deeper, cry a little easier and cherish the details of every day a little more. I will always count my time with Annie as one of my life's greatest blessings. I love you, baby girl.

Annie's Obituary

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

Our sweet Annie Grace passed away peacefully on August 1, 2010 at Primary Children’s Medical Center from complications associated with congenital heart defects. Her bright eyes, patient spirit and seemingly endless will carried her and us through many dark days. Annie fought courageously and relentlessly to overcome her physical challenges, which at times seemed insurmountable. Though her life here was short, she touched many. We know she continues to live on elsewhere and to carry on that work there. We are heartbroken by our loss, but trust in a loving Heavenly Father to care for Annie until we can be with her again.

Annie is survived by her parents, Amy and Cameron; her brothers and sisters, Austin (13), Ashleigh (10), Hayden (7), Ellie (3), and Hadley (1); and her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

We give special thanks to family, friends, and loving ward members who walked this road with us and, at times, carried us. We could never have made it through without you! We also express love and appreciation to the wonderful doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and others at Primary Children’s Medical Center who loved and cared for Annie and our family. We are much better people for having known and loved you. We hope that Annie’s life will be seen for the miracle that it was – that we were allowed four precious months to know and love her, and to witness her impact on so many.

Funeral services for Annie will be held at 11:00 a.m. on August 9, 2010 at the Lehi North Stake Center, 3200 N. 600 E., Lehi, Utah. A viewing will be held prior to the funeral services from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m. Interment will be at the Lehi Cemetery. Funeral services will be provided by Warenski Funeral Home.

Sweet Annie Grace

Our sweet Annie Grace passed away today. Never has a little girl been more loved than this one. Our hearts are broken, but hers is no longer. We feel peace in knowing that she is free from the pain and suffering that has always accompanied her in this life and look forward with great anticipation to being with her in the next. We are not able to say thank you enough to all that have carried us through this journey. We could never have endured this impossible burden without the countless angels that have served and blessed our family over the past several months. We love you. Thank you for loving us.

A Fine Mess

I know that this post is way overdue. Annie is not doing well and it is has been hard to do anything but be with her right now. Although Annie came through Friday's surgery well enough, within 24 hours, she was struggling again. The fluid that we were hoping would decrease after surgery has come back with a vengeance, and she is again putting out more than a liter a day. In addition, Annie responded to this surgery as she has to surgeries in the past: with lots of swelling. The swelling makes it difficult for her lungs to expand and for the ventilator to give her the size of breath she needs to be well oxygenated. If she gets upset, this only makes the problem worse as she bears down in anger and fights against the ventilator, leading to a very scary cycle that is difficult to break. These issues began Sunday night, and when I arrived on Monday morning, it was clear that Annie was in really bad shape. The doctor wanted to meet with us and discuss where we should go from here. He told us that, as far as they are concerned, there is no hope that Annie can recover. I asked why, in spite of her terrible condition, had her kidneys and blood pressure suddenly improved. He had no answer for this, but told me that it did not matter as the chest tube output had not decreased with the surgery. He encouraged us to think about removing the support that we are giving Annie and letting her pass. He explained that, ethically speaking, there is no difference between putting a breathing tube in and taking one out. That while she is alive, it is because of the artificial support that she is being given and therefore, we might find peace in knowing that her death would be a "natural" one. Maybe that sounds good when you read it in a medical journal, but no journal article can account for what it is to be the mother of a bright-blue-eyed four month old daughter that is SO there. Granted, she makes no sound, but she is still there. She maintains eye contact for long periods of time and listens closely when I talk to her. She has a personality that is patient and mild. She has a spirit that lives in this body and who am I to decide when her mission is done? Her quality of life is not what I would want for any baby, but this is her life and she has known very little otherwise. Interesting, how her life is not viewed as inhumane until the doctors have nothing else to offer her. Of course, we don't want her to suffer; we love her more than anyone else possibly could. We did tell the doctor that if the struggle on the ventilator should continue, we were not willing to stand by and watch her starve for air for days on end; that if that were the case, we would view withdrawal of support as a merciful decision on her behalf. However, we have seen Annie swell many times in the past and watched her recover again and again. The doctor told us that he fully expected her swelling and breathing issues to worsen and never get better. Thankfully, he was wrong, and the swelling has decreased and she is again being ventilated successfully.

And, there you have it: what a fine mess we are in. We told the doctor yesterday, that as long as we can keep Annie comfortable, we would like to give her time and see if she will make the decision on her own. Neither one of us feels comfortable making this choice for her right now and are praying mightily that we will not ever have to. The truth is that we still have hope for Annie; we hope every day that things are going to get better and she will begin an upward climb. I don't think we will be done hoping until she is gone. At the same time, we fully understand that, medically speaking, her condition is hopeless. Finding peace between hope and hopelessness is quite a challenge. A fine mess indeed.