In the Texas Children's Hospital in Houston they had a huge curtain they closed when one of "our" babies died.
All of the parents sat outside on chairs and couches looking through the big glass window at our babies because they wouldn't let us into that sterile environment.
When we saw the curtains being drawn the tears began to flow.
We held each other's hands hoping against hope that our baby wasn't the one who died.
When the curtains opened and we could see which isolette was empty, we shared the grief with the parents at the same time thanking God that it wasn't our's.
Every day was the same - living in fear that this would be the last day of our baby's life.
No one can know the misery of living like that day after day unless they've been there, searching each day for some positive sign that the baby was getting better, and dreading the signs that they were going downhill.
When I heard about little Logan, God directed me to go see him.
I knew the heartbreak I might witness and be a part of, but I had to be there.
I understand the magnitude of the miracle God performed with Logan, and I thank Him every day for His love.
I'm so very sorry about your brother.
I know the sorrow.