She carried her pillow and monkey stuffed animal as she walked to the car. My mother carried her new book that she would probably finish by the end of the day. My dad had the car keys and placed them in the ignition. I carried my sister's gentle hand. The car ride was stale. We were nervous. My sister looked out the window with anxiety on her face. We prayed as we pull into the parking garage, and took a deep breath as we stepped into the hospital lobby.

We checked in at the front desk and shortly after the nurse took my sister in a wheelchair. My mom, dad and I then went in to say our last "see you later" before she went into the operating room. I carried a card that I wrote for my sister in my right hand. She opened it and hugged me. She carried hope in her eyes, which gave me hope. The multiple doctors and the surgeon came in carrying information about their responsibility toward my sister. My mother's once nervous face became hopeful, as the doctors truly comforted her. We all gave her one last hug and before we knew it we all watched her turn the corner. For the next 6 hours, she was held by the surgeon's hands.

Growing up in my home, I always followed my parents' example. They have taught me the importance of family and that in the end, we will always be by each other's side. Sitting in that waiting room was a test of this. The six-hour surgery felt like six days. I carried fear sitting in that waiting room, but then I would look at my mom, offering my dad and me food and drinks to comfort us. She talked about her week and asked us about ours. She soothed our tense minds. My mom embodied everything she ever taught us during this adversity. Nothing else mattered other than us four, and we had to be each other's cornerstone.

There were moments that I would stare into nothingness; when all the things that could go wrong swirled through my head. But then I felt my mother's hand on my shoulder, and her voice saying, "Everything will be okay." My mind was then put at ease. The nurse then came out of the double doors. She informed us that the surgery went smoothly and we were able to see my sister.

One at a time we went into the holding room. My mother went first. Anticipation filled my veins. When I was able to go in, she was laying on a hospital bed with IVs and wires attached to her. My eyes teared as I smiled. I didn't know how to feel. I held her hand and she looked at me and smiled. The entire family surrounded the hospital bed; we were all together again.

Our family had to be each other's backbone through this. These small moments reminded me of the true essence of withstanding life's challenges. First, having faith in God's path; although we may not understand why we are dealt the cards we have been drawn, we must trust in Him that it is for a reason. Second, turning to our family; encouraging each other will strengthen our mind and body to move forward. Lastly, determination; we must be determined together for my sister to heal. I carry these attributes with me every day. At the end of this journey, we all carried something new. My parents carried relief that their daughter will be okay. I carried inspiration; I had an extra push to not give up on any obstacle that I endured, just as my sister did. My sister carried strength; she knew that this surgery was only to benefit her, and with time, she will be stronger than she was before.