July 19th, 2004

I was an only child for six years. I had an older cousin who was more like a brother to
me. And my best friend since birth was much more like a sister to me. I spent a lot of time with
them. For my whole life, I didn’t think I’d ever grow up with a sibling. Even when my brother
was born, there was still a chance I’d never experience that.

Early morning of a midsummer day, my father woke me up. He told me my mom was in
labor and that we had to hurry. I didn’t understand why, because her due date wasn’t until
October. I was aware that my mother was having problems with her pregnancy, and that she was
temporarily residing in St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester. I was a naïve six year old, it never
struck me that people could go into labor so early.
I remember stopping at my grandparents’ house to pick up my grandma. I noticed she
was carrying a bible in her hands.
“Why do you have that?” I questioned.
“To find names for your new brother,” she responded.
I was kind of confused, since my name at birth wasn’t from the bible. I didn’t dawn on it
too much. Not even a half hour later, I fell asleep to my dad and grandmother discussing worries
about what’s going to happen to my new little brother.

My brother was named Isaiah Michael. The named Isaiah arrived from the
search of names in the bible. My mother agreed on it before my dad and grandmother told her
about it. My parents wanted to name my newborn brother after something in the bible, because it
would be a miracle if he survived. A nurse even baptized him shortly after he was born.
Isaiah weighed less than two pounds. He had to be fed through a tube, and hooked up to a
machine. There was only a small chance of him pulling through. All my family was worried, I
was worried.

My mom stayed in The Ronald McDonald house. She didn’t want to leave the state
where my brother was. My father went to culinary school while Isaiah was in the hospital. Le
Cordon Blue was located in Minnesota, and he would go during the time I was at school. My dad
also had a job to go to. He would sometimes forget to pick me up, because of how overwhelmed
he was.

The Ronald McDonald House was a fun place to go to. There was a Nintendo 64, and an
old arcade game machine that had Gallagher on it. I would spend hours doing those two things,
when I had the time. I’d stay with my mom there frequently, for weekends when my father had
to work, or just to visit. I’d look forward to seeing her. But we were only usually at The Ronald
McDonald House during the evening. We’d usually stay at the hospital to see Isaiah. Because of
that, sometimes my mom would forget to feed me lunch, because of how overwhelmed she was.
First grade was my worst year, ever. It was hard enough focusing and staying still, but
now I had a baby brother to worry about. I was too young to be stressed out already. During the
beginning months of school, my parents believed I would fall into seasonal depression and not
care about school anymore. I wouldn’t want to hang out with my friends, I didn’t want to do
anything. I was only six.

My teacher tried to make me feel less stressed by having the class writing out cards to my
brother for me to take to the hospital. It was a nice experience to bring a bunch of handmade
cards to Isaiah. It made me feel like I had more of a reason to visit him.

My family was still poor from all the hospital bills piling up, and my dad attending Le
Cordon Blue. We still lived in a bad neighborhood, and at the time we could not afford anything
better. Paying off the bills for Isaiah, and college tuition was very hard. It was very expensive
and my father at his two jobs and going to school. Not to mention the two hours it would take
him to get there, and the two hours to get back to Eau Claire. My mom’s friend’s sister knew
how much we were struggling, financial and emotional wise. So as her position of being the
manager at a local Fazoli’s, her and our church held a large spaghetti dinner. Tania, the Fazoli’s
manager, provided the food. Our church, St. Olaf’s provided the dining area. We made more
money than my six year old self could ever imagine.

My brother was able to come home several months after his birth. We took him to my
dad’s graduation shortly after. My father received his diploma from culinary school. In that
moment, we were happy. Things seemed to be going well. But later, our focus was on Isaiah’s
health and wellbeing.

“Is Isaiah going to die?” I asked worriedly.
“I don’t know. Please don’t think about that, you’re only six, you shouldn’t worry so
much,” my mother replied as she fed Isaiah.
“Yeah, but what if he does die?” I said.
My mother looked me straight in the eyes. “Listen honey, Isaiah won’t die anytime soon.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” my mom spoke as she gently cradled Isaiah.

She kept her promise. Isaiah never had to go back to the hospital. He grew up healthy.
It’s been over ten years since he was born, and my brother is significantly better. I’m thankful for
his existence.