The waiting room outside the ICU had moms and dads camped out in every corner of the room. Some were asleep, some wide awake as if in a daze, some reading Bibles. I felt their pain as much as my own. I tried to make a phone call but froze when my husband and son burst through the waiting room door shouting, “Candy is dead, she’s dead!’ The words freeze in the air. I turn to see the look of fear in everyone’s eyes in the waiting room. No one is asleep now.

I dropped the telephone receiver to the ground and left it hanging. My feet feel heavy and glued to the floor. I feel my husband grab my arm and we run. Running feels as if we are floating. I need to run through the ICU doors to get to my little girl. She can’t be dead. I must do something. I need to get to her.