Bella's Gift by Rick Santorum Read Free Book Online Page A

Bella could survive when it seemed so impossible. Losing Gabriel taught me to trust God’s will, that all will be well in the end. Elizabeth reminded me that accepting God’s will didn’t mean abandoning hope.

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LOVE THROUGH PAIN
    • Karen Santorum •
It takes courage to love, but pain through love is the purifying fire which those who love generously know. We all know people who are so much afraid of pain that they shut themselves up like clams in a shell and, giving out nothing, receive nothing and therefore shrink until life is a mere living death.
    —ELEANOR ROOSEVELT
    W e Love Bella’s Dad”
    Written in silver glitter ink on a piece of pink poster board, the words waved back and forth in a sea ofenthusiastic supporters. My husband and I were walking down the rope line, shaking hands and being photographed. After being on a presidential campaign for several months, we’d seen our fair share of campaign literature, T-shirts, and even some eclectic, homemade signs during the many rallies we had held. But this was new. Cameras flashed, reporters hounded us with questions, and smiling faces encouraged us. Yet in that moment, everything slowed as I looked beyond the fray.
    “We Love Bella’s Dad”
    A plethora of pretty, red-crayoned hearts framed the words. I craned my neck to find its artist in the crowd. Then, as her dad lifted her above the crowd and onto his shoulders, I saw her: blonde pigtails tied up with ribbons, blue eyes, and a sincere smile. She had Down syndrome. Walking over to them, excitement evident on my face, I introduced myself and thanked them for coming. The little girl’s name was Julia. She was there with her parents and her big brother, Michael. Complimenting them on their artwork, I asked who made the sign.
    Michael, who was no more than eight, replied quickly and enthusiastically, “Julia did the hearts, but I did the letters, because I’m her brother and I’m a big helper.” The little guy’s cheeks were red as he bashfully twirled the rope line after his proud declaration. Smiling, I told Michael that he must be a very good big brother. He beamed in response.
    Julia waved the sign back and forth as her father lifted her from his shoulders and set her on the ground. Looking up at me, she bashfully tilted her head and smiled. I bent down. “Hello, Julia. I like your sign.”
    Her smile turned into a grin as she looked at it herself and said, “It’s pink and so pretty!”
    It was.
    “I love it, Julia! Do you know pink is Bella’s favorite color too?”
    Surprised and excited, Julia said, “Wow! Give her a kiss from me!”
    I smiled and opened my arms as she came to give me a hug. In a sea of people, during long days of traveling and campaigning, this moment renewed my sense of purpose and determination.
    Turning to their mother, I was moved by the reaction on her face. Smiles and tears simultaneously crossed her countenance. Reaching for my hand, she whispered, “Thank you for giving us hope.”
    I squeezed her hand, smiling as a silent moment of understanding passed between us. I knew the fears, struggles, and joys of a mother with a special-needs child. I was one of them.

    January 28, 2012. This date is seared in my memory as one of my most difficult days as a mother. On that day, the story of my youngest daughter’s disabilities came into the spotlight under complicated circumstances. Several days after the South Carolina Republican presidential primary, our sweet little Bella got very sick. We had taken our entire family down to South Carolina before the primary to campaign. During our trip, Bella had enjoyed many walks on the beach and the healing sea air. Then, the day before we left to go home, she began to get sick. What was initially a runny nose went intoher lungs. Pneumonia. She was lethargic and out of sorts. My first thought was to get her home, back to her comfort zone. I had been a neonatal intensive care nurse for years, a background that was invaluable in