Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
A year ago this saying meant something different to me than it does today. A year ago many things were different.
I am a blessed mother of four beautiful, healthy children. I am a daughter, and a friend, and a sister. The bond I share with my baby sister is a wonder considering how much we fought as children. But we grew up, and through life’s lessons discovered that there are no better friends in the world than a gal’s sister.
My sister was my maid of honor in my wedding. Six months later, when I discovered I was pregnant with twins, she began treating me to routine belly rubs. As my pregnancy progressed and I ultimately ended up on bed rest, it was she who took care of me. When I was in the hospital and had to pee every 20 minutes, it was my sister who did bed pan duties through the nights so that I wouldn’t require re-catheterization. The day my twins arrived nearly 2 months early it was Kara who had taken me to the hospital.
A year and a half later, my sister was lying beside me in the middle of the night when labor started for my third child. She was by my side as I pushed into the world another beautiful baby girl.
Not long after the arrival of daughter number three my sister was by my side as I wept in agony for the loss of my husband, who had made the decision to be with someone else rather than to stay in our marriage. Kara walked with me through the toughest time of my life that year. She helped me with my daughters, and helped me with me. She couldn’t do much but be there for me, but that was what got me through what was one of the worst years of my life.
My sister was my maid of honor in my wedding. Yes, I know I already said that. But I refer to my 2nd wedding. And she was there the day my son was born. My sister has simply always been there for me.
After my son’s birth I stopped having children. Eventually, Kara met, fell in love and married her husband Brian. And then the news I had been hoping for since becoming a mother myself finally occurred! My sister was expecting a baby of her own. At last, I could do for her what she had done for me. The night her daughter was born was nearly as life altering for me as it had been when my own children had arrived. Sure, I had nieces already, but this was different because it was my sister’s child.
My love for my sister grew even more as I watched her become a mother that day. And I knew she would be the best one ever. My sister grew up learning from my mistakes. She also had the advantage of my knowledge. Most importantly, she had the leverage of 2 master’s degrees to help her to figure out where I was wrong and where she was right. So a perfect mother she was bound to be.
And a perfect baby she had. Sure, Kaden still did baby things. She cried and she pooped. But at around 4 months Kaden’s personality began to emerge and she was the baby many envied (particularly us moms who had colicky infants).
When Kaden turned one she grew more physically stunning. She had beautiful crystal clear blue eyes, in spite of her brown eyed parents, a dimple when she smiled, and a charm in her glance. She would wave at everything. In the months to follow her first birthday she was learning to talk. And a “happy” baby girl she was. “Happy, happy, happy” were the words I remember her speaking most. In the week before her death I can still hear her voice as she would say, “happy, happy, happy” while running off in her squeaky shoes.
On July 10th 2010 the words “tomorrow is not guaranteed” changed for me.
That day, to me, was uneventful. My children were home for the week and it was a night in which we had no “extra” children over, which at that time was a common occurrence in our house. My husband and I went to bed around 10:30 and I was in an early slumber as my cell phone rang after 11pm. I knew the call was from my mom’s house and wasn’t concerned simply because my mom needing to tell me something random after 11pm wouldn’t have been particularly out of the ordinary.
But then I heard my step dad’s voice say the words through the phone, “Keshia, Kaden is dead.” Immediately I sat up, and questioned myself about what I had just heard. That’s not what he said, I thought to myself. So I asked, “What?” And I knew it was true when he said it again because I could hear the wailing cries of my mother in the background.
The details at that moment were unclear to me, and to my mom and step dad. All they knew at that time was that Kara had called them to tell them that they were on their way home from a wedding in Cincinnati, that Kaden was with Brian’s parents (which happened to be the same neighborhood as my mom) and that they had gotten a phone call that Kaden had died. Kara had asked my mom to go to her mother’s in laws house to help find out details.
I am unable to completely describe the feelings that tore through me at that moment. Utter devastation ripped through my body. I felt as though something was tearing through my soul. As I heard myself scream “no, no, no!” I remember looking down at my clenched fists digging into the tops of my thighs as I quivered uncontrollably. What the hell is going on? I asked again and again in my mind. Finally I had convinced myself that this was simply a huge mistake and that the best thing we could do was get to Kaden.
But I guess I knew it was true as well, because before long my daughters came pouring into my bedroom as I was rushing to get dressed. They were crying and scared. They must have overheard my devastation as I had to repeat to Darby what information I knew. At the same time Darby was calling his parents so that they could come and watch the children so that we could leave to be with my sister.
Before leaving that night my father in law hugged me and I fell into his arms and asked him “what am I supposed to do for my sister? How do I help my sister?” His hug back was the only answer he could provide.
Darby was backing the car out of the driveway when it occurred to me that people probably needed to be contacted, specifically my father. No one wants to be the bearer of bad news, but telling your dad that his grandchild has passed away probably takes the cake. His response was similar to my own, disbelief. Ultimately, I think in our minds we needed to get to Kaden so that we could prove to the world that she was alive.
Getting to Kaden proved much easier for those who lived in, or close to, Louisville. But my sister and her husband were not so lucky. They had gotten the news while in Cincinnati that their daughter was sick and that they needed to come home. Approximately 20 minutes into their drive they got the phone call that no parent in the world should have to receive, that their daughter was dead. They were told to pull off the interstate and to wait for a police escort, which at first they complied, but after what I’m sure was complete and total agony they decided to make the drive to Kaden without help.
As Darby and I arrived into the neighborhood of Brian’s parents reality hit me in the face. Hard. Approaching the house was numerous police cars, an ambulance, and probably a fire truck or two. Those vehicles did not faze me. They were all there to save Kaden. I was glad to see them there! But as we got out of the car and walked toward the house I saw it. The Crime Scene Investigator vehicle. The one you only see in television shows. I knew at that moment that Kaden wasn’t going to be saved and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Somehow I made it to the steps on the porch. Brian’s parents and brother were sitting on the front porch. My mom and step dad were on the back porch steps. No one was talking. No one knew what to say. All we could do was wait. We were waiting for the CSI unit to complete their investigation, we were waiting for answers, and we were, most importantly, waiting for my sister and her husband.
Time slowed down immensely. There was nothing that we could do. Occasionally, someone would get word regarding where Kara and Brian were located in their journey back to Kaden. During this time the emergency vehicles began to leave one by one. And then all that was left was the ambulance that embraced Kaden. I believe it was two hours before Kara and Brian finally arrived.
I was on the front porch talking to Brian’s parents when they drove up. I was paralyzed, either by fear or the reality of what was getting ready to happen. This was the big hill top of the roller coaster no one wants to go on because there are no straps or harnesses. Kara and Brian walked into the cul de sac and my body couldn’t move. Darby was the one who brought me back to reality, gently telling me to go to my sister. And we did. Brian’s parents, brother, myself and then the rest of the family who had been waiting in that drive way.
We met them in the center of the cul de sac where the ambulance awaited, and where the EMT’s that had taken care of Kaden awaited with the information none of us had.
In a huddle we circled around Kara and Brian as we were told the story of Kaden’s last hours. Kaden had a slight fever that morning and hadn’t been acting herself, but she wasn’t acting out of the ordinary. Brian’s mother had laid her down to bed, read her a few stories and crawled out of the room once Kaden was asleep so as not to wake her. Twenty minutes later Brian’s mom went back into the room to check on Kaden because she had wanted to make sure she didn’t have her blanket too close to her face. That’s when she discovered Kaden unresponsive.
Almost immediately CPR was started and the ambulance was on their way. But life could not be pumped back into Kaden’s little body. After a long attempt it was determined that there wasnt a possibility to bring Kaden back.
The man who gave us the details then offered the opportunity for Kara and Brian to say good bye to Kaden. Our families hugged them tightly before they walked toward the side door of the ambulance. Through the window in the back we watched as Kara lifted her child’s lifeless body up for the last time. I watched her brush Kaden's hair off of her face and kiss her sweet cheeks. I watched Brian hold onto his daughter as he wept with grief. For a while they just looked at her. With their fingers they traced each individual crease of Kaden's lumpy legs. They etched into their minds every detail of their daughter, and then they let her go.
That night we sat in the living room of Brian’s parents going over and over what could have happened. All of the possibilities. The what if’s. But at the same time it was very surreal. It was easy to still believe that Kaden was still asleep upstairs in her crib. I watched my sister pick up Kaden’s blanket, smell it, then sigh. I watched my mom try so very hard to help her daughter while grieving the loss of her grandchild. And the same for Brian’s mother. Because those of us who are mothers know there is no pain like watching our children suffer. And then there was me. The big sister who owed my sister the world for all of her great deeds to me but I couldn’t do a single thing to make it better.
Eventually most of us went home to try to rest, but it was hard. Sleep was impossible for me. I woke up every 15 minutes hoping that it had just been a nightmare.
The next day I made my way to Brian’s parents, which is where Kara and Brian would stay while the funeral preparations were being handled. As I walked into the house my sister and Brian were sitting at the dining room table with the funeral planner. She was helping them to write Kaden’s obituary. I went to Kara and shared her seat. She was going through the most recent pictures of Kaden. She needed a picture for the paper. We went through them slowly, occasionally pausing so that Kara could tell a story about what had occurred when that particular picture was taken. Eventually, a picture was chosen. And I heaved an internal sigh of relief thanking God that it was over, but really I hadn’t realized it was all just beginning.
The hours that followed were wrenching. I thought that I could take over as the big sister and do whatever I could to relieve my sister of her burdens. But eventually I found it difficult. The phone calls were the hardest. After telling my immediate family the details I found it challenging to speak to anyone at all. Facebook actually proved extremely beneficial for our family. We were able to get out the details without having to go through the pain of retelling the story. I took my sister’s phone and made my best efforts at checking her voice mail, returning calls and answering calls, but I found myself at a point where I couldn’t do it anymore. Thankfully, there was a friend who was waiting to do for me what I could no longer do. Her name was Amy. She became a savior in many ways over the next few days , as I did my best to be my sister's savior.
That evening I went home to work on preparing for Kaden’s visitation services. I wanted people to have something to take home with them so I spent hours going over which pictures would be perfect for the memorabilia collage in which I would have hundreds of copies printed. I spent hours working on collages to put on display in the parlor’s gallery so that the people who had never met Kaden could see just how beautiful and lively she was. I slept little that night, because I wanted things to be right. Because my sister had always helped me to plan the perfect parties for my children, and I would never get that opportunity for Kaden.
The first visitation occurred in Louisville. We got to say our good byes before the doors were opened to everyone else. My children walked by my side as we approached Kaden’s casket. I didn’t cry at that moment. I just remember being at peace as I watched Kara and Brian in each other’s embrace looking down on their daughter’s resting body. I knew that God was with us, and most importantly that the prayers of hundreds were making their way into our hearts.
Since Kaden was wearing a romper her chubby limbs were exposed. And we were fortunate that her right calf (the one closest to us) was still squishy. For those who knew Kaden, you can understand how important having something squishy of Kaden was to us. And we discovered, Kara, Brian and I, that if you held onto her “squish” long enough she would be warm in that spot. The warmth was important.
That day was extremely exhausting for me, both mentally and physically. I stood by my sister’s side the entire day. While she was so very strong and capable of standing there without me and because she had her wonderful husband there by her side I just felt I couldn’t risk leaving her alone. I didn’t want to fail her.
That evening Kara and Brian read Kaden her bedtime story while I went home to my children. I was so very exhausted and can’t remember changing out of my dress clothes before lying down. What I do remember however is having my son press his warm body against mine while I cried that my sister was not getting to do that same.
The next day was easier, as the visitation was in Georgetown and those who attended I was not familiar with. So I stayed aside with my own parents. We talked about Kaden mostly. Looked over photo albums and scrapbooks that Kara had made, and watched repetedly the video that Brian’s brother had made of Kaden’s short life. We knew the next day, the funeral, would be difficult, but we were trudging through.
The funeral was beautiful. Kyle Idleman facilitated Kaden’s service and Brian’s brother in law Jamie Snyder, who is also a minister, gave an inspirational eulogy as well. As the funeral progressed the song “Jesus Loves Me” began to play and my son began singing along with it fairly loudly. At that point my children broke down. They were entwined with my in laws directly behind Darby and I, so I knew they were in good hands, but oh how I wanted to take them all into my arms at that moment.
After the service we made our way to the limousines that would be transporting us to the cemetery. While sitting in the car I watched as my dad and Brian’s dad carried Kaden’s tiny casket to the back side of the hearse parked in front of us. I watched as my dad wiped away the tears from his wet cheeks. I turned my head to look out in the other direction as I silently cried myself even though I thought surely by then I was completely out of tears.
The graveside service was nice. Kaden was to be buried in Baby Land right next to a memorial marker with the name Bailey inscribed on it. This brought some peace to my sister since my daughter Bailey had always been the one to watch out for her cousin Kaden. After the service the kids took daisies to each of the other children who were buried in Baby Land with notes attached. I don’t remember what the notes said, perhaps it was a poem.
The days and weeks to follow were a blur. Naturally, I was in pain for the loss of my niece, but I was mostly in pain for what my sister was going through. At the same time, however, I witnessed how wonderful the power of prayer can be. I witnessed a mission in progress as friends and strangers pulled together to make my sister and her husband’s time easier. I witnessed firsthand the power of Jesus’s hand when you ask Him to lend you one.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed. At one time those words meant to me that tomorrow I may not be here so I need to make the best of today. Now I know that when the calendar turns there is no guarantee that those we love the most will be here so make sure to tell them each day what you may not get to tomorrow.
