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My Trenty



src="http://www.sultryrose.net/midis/HolesInTheFloorOfHeaven.mid" loop=-1>






The Lord Is My Shepherd
























href="http://www.sultryrose.net">SultryRose's Signatures





In room G215,
he continues to get worse
as my sister watches
his monitors alarm.

His pulse ox is 62%
on 1 1/2 liters of O2,
his heart races at
200 beats per minute,
then slows to
close to nothing
with exhaustion
as he strains to eat.
His hands and feet,
once pink, now
remain blue.

Hang on,
Trenton Michael Arnold,
you are my special baby boy.
Aunt Lori used to kiss
your cute little feet
in intensive care
after you were born,
because it was the only
place on your little body
not covered with lines.

And you are my sweet boy
who to this day stretches
your little feet to me
to have them kissed still.
I used to be the only one
who could put you to sleep.
Of all my nieces and nephews,
you hold the most special
place in my heart.

It is time now for
your third open heart surgery
if they can get you stable.
It's happening so fast,
and we weren't ready.

I told Morgan this morning,
and her eyes welled up
with tears as she
dropped to her knees
at the foot of my bed
and started to pray.

We love you, Trenty.
You have been so strong,
God's little miracle.
The heart surgeons
never believed that
you, little mack truck
of a boy, had a
hypoplastic left heart.
You have been all
of ours' miracle baby.

Hang in there, Trenty.
Aunt Lori loves you.
Don't fail us now.
I have to believe
God won't take you,
not after all this.
You are our hope
with your blue heaven eyes
and your angel-blonde hair.

May God's hands work
through your surgeons
to bring you back to us,
a little boy with an
intricately-laced heart.

Stay strong, angel.
We love you.



Lori Beal

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