“We’re very sorry to tell you, but we are only giving him a twenty percent chance to live and an even lesser chance that if he does pull through, he will ever walk or talk again,” said the doctor to my Aunt Angie.  The news was tragic, shocking, and terrifying, consuming every one of my family members and turning each one of them into a sobbing mess. 

It was a normal winter day for my family and me on January 31, 2001.  Shivering from the cold, my dad, brother, and I had a snowball fight in the front yard.  I was privileged with throwing the first snowball as always; it was my dad’s attempt at teaching my brother the concept of “ladies first.”  Meanwhile, my mom cooked dinner inside.  She liked to cook while we played outside because it gave her some space.  I was four years old, laughing at anything and everything with my six-year-old brother.  My dad sat and laughed at how silly we acted together and admired that we were the best of friends.  Happiness consumed my mom because she was blessed with the family she had always dreamed of. 

All of a sudden, the happiness turned to sadness and fear as my dad answered the phone call from my aunt, telling him the news.  She informed him that her son, my three-year-old cousin Michael, was in a tragic accident with his babysitter.  She told him nothing other than that it was very bad and didn’t look good for Michael at all.  My dad screamed to my mom to come outside as he loaded my brother and me into our car seats.  His voice shook as he looked to my mom and yelled, “Come on, we have to go!”  I burst into tears as I sensed the fear and anxiety in my dad’s voice.  Confused, my brother asked my parents where we were going.  They told us that we were going to Grandma Ree’s house to spend the night.  We both loved spending the night there, so we started to relax, comforted knowing we were only going to our great grandma’s house.  She was always home, so they didn’t even call first. 

We arrived at Grandma Ree’s house where my mom carried me inside and sat me down on the worn, blue couch.  “You guys stay the night here, and we will be back to get you in the morning,” my mom said.  Toby followed us inside, and my grandma went outside to talk to my dad.  I was curious as to why my dad didn’t come in but just let it go.  My grandma came back inside fairly shaken up, but she tried her very best to hide it from us. 

From that day on, my dad drove to Toledo every day to go see my cousin in the hospital.  After about three weeks, I was finally able to go see him too!  I walked into the all white room to see Michael sitting on the bed with many gray wires hooked up to the back of his head.  “What are those?  How does he play with those attached to him?  Why isn’t he saying anything?” I thought to myself.  A million questions raced through my brain, but too frightened to ask, I sat quietly on my dad’s lap.  My aunt was sitting behind him and supporting his back, as he could not sit up on his own.  Three years old, unable to walk, talk, or even sit up.  “Why is this happening?  Why our Michael?” my family questioned.

We’ll never fully know what happened that day, but what we do know is that Michael’s head hit the wall full force, leaving him with brain damage and a fractured skull.  His leg was somehow broken, and the right side of his body left somewhat disabled due to the stroke he had in the hospital.  The court sentenced his babysitter to six years in jail and was charged with child endangerment.  Although my family still wonders, we will truly never know as the babysitter’s story changed many times between talking to my Aunt Angie, the first responders, the investigators, and the court.

Although the odds were definitely not in Michael’s favor, the doctors didn’t think he would make it.  “If he pulls through, there’s only an extremely thin chance that he will ever walk or talk again,” explained the doctor to my heartbroken family.  “He will always be slower than other kids his age.”  Michael has brain damage from “the accident” and walks with a limp due to the broken leg he received from the “accident”.  He, now, walks, talks, goes to school, and participates in Special Olympic events.  He proved everyone wrong.  He’s my family’s miracle!