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. They
found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and
day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his
sister in Mommy's tummy. The pregnancy progressed normally
for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United
Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor
pains came. Every five minutes ... every minute. But
complications arose during delivery. Hours of labor. Would
a C-section be required?
Finally, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in
serious condition. With sirens 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 became worse. The pediatric
specialist told the parents to prepared for the worst.
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a
burial plot. They originally fixed up a special room in
their home for the new baby - now they planned a funeral.
Michael kept begging his parents to let him see his sister,
"I want to sing to her," he said. Week two in intensive care.
It looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.
Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids
are not allowed in Intensive Care. Karen made up her mind.
She decided to take Michael whether they like it or not. If
he didn't see his sister now, 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, but the head
nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid
out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother in Karen
rose up strong, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared
steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line.
"He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"
Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the
tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he began to sing.
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 responded. The pulse
rate became calm and steady. "Keep on singing, Michael." "You
never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my
sunshine away---" Her strained breathing became smoother.
"Keep on singing, Michael." "The other night, dear, as I lay
sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little
sister relaxed as healing rest seemed to sweep over her. "Keep
on singing, Michael." Tears conquered the face of the bossy
head nurse. "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! Woman's Day magazine called it "The Miracle
of a Brother's Song." The medical staff just called it a miracle.
Karen called it a miracle of God's love.