Something woke me from a sound sleep. Wow—it was hot. We didn’t have air conditioning, only a fan that sat on top of our dresser. I felt drenched from head to toe and even found it hard to breathe. My commotion woke my husband lying beside me.
“Boy, it’s hot, and I’m sweating buckets over here,” he said.
Climbing out of bed to go to the bathroom was something I did at regular intervals those days. At least I had for the past several months since I found out I was pregnant. Forcing my swollen body out of bed I got a surprise.
“Honey, I think my water just broke.”
“What!” he said, as he climbed out of bed and stood beside me.
“I’m scared. This is too early. I’m not even eight months along yet.”
“Don’t worry honey; it’s gonna be okay. I’ll call your mom and tell her we’re on our way to drop Lynn off with her, then I’ll get you to the hospital.”
As I rushed around and packed a bag I heard my husband trying to rouse our daughter.
“Come on sleepy head, wake up; you get to go stay with grandma tonight.”
Buddy was so patient. Nothing ever bothered him. His reactions during a crisis were the exact opposite of mine—he was great. Like the time Lynn fell and hurt her face, there was no way I could watch them give my little girl stitches, I stayed out in the waiting room while Buddy took her into the ER. If he was worried then, it didn’t show a bit, and that helped me to relax.
Buddy dropped Lynn off at my moms, and we headed for the hospital.
I‘d had a few pains the night before, but I figured it was false labor. It wasn’t my first baby so I thought I knew what to expect. They say the pain of labor is something we forget, but I started to remember, and I didn’t like it. Pains came fast and furious. I hadn’t reached full term. Delivery would be too early. Would our baby be okay? “Please God.”
The nurses gave me a hospital gown, then prepped me for the birth. My husband sat in a chair next to my bed. Contractions took over my body and there was nothing they could do to stop them. Fear engulfed me.
Buddy and I had taken Lamaze classes. He did a great job of being my coach and trying to convince me that everything would be fine. He timed my pains, rubbed my back and handed me ice chips.
“Ouch! Get the doctor, this baby is coming now!”
They made my husband leave, gave me a quick exam, and wheeled me to delivery.
“Push, push,” the doctor said, and our little girl came into the world. But I didn’t hear the sound that all mothers wait to hear, their baby’s first cry. She wasn’t breathing. Please, baby, breathe. Doctors rushed around and worked on her but they weren’t telling me anything. The seconds seemed like minutes as I nervously waited for any sound. I got a glimpse of her, and heard a faint little cry, just before the nurses whisked her away. She looked blue.
They finished my care then wheeled me into the hall where I met Buddy and told him that we had a little girl. He was thrilled. “But something’s wrong,” I whispered, “and they took her away for testing.” We anxiously waited for news back in my room, but it wasn’t good.
“Your little girl has hyaline membrane disease,” the doctor said. “Her lungs are not fully developed and we don’t know if she’ll make it through the night. The first 24 hours are critical.”
My heart almost stopped.
The doctor sent Buddy home. “Maybe you can get a little sleep,” he said. “Come back in the morning. We’ll know more then.”
“Please, God,” we both prayed, “let our little girl live and we’ll start going to church,” although we had never felt the need before. “Breathe life into her tiny lungs,” we continued to pray. She looked so fragile in that little incubator.
After a long restless night, Buddy was back with me. We held hands and, from time to time, our breath.
The doctor walked in, all smiles.
“She’s a little fighter,” he said. “She’d never make it otherwise. We’re going to keep her until she gains some weight, but I think she’s going to be okay.”
“Thank-you God, for answered prayer.”
I went home with empty arms, but our little girl was doing fine and already gaining weight. After a few days in the hospital we were able to take her home.
Then Sunday came.
We kept our promise and went to church.Three months later we both decided that we weren’t the best at running our own lives. We had sinned and went our selfish way far too long. We prayed and asked the Lord for forgiveness. We thanked Him for dying on a cross for us, and prayed that He would take over the control of our lives. God not only answered our prayers, but both of our mother’s as well, as they had been praying for us.
We discovered the all encompassing love of a heavenly father. His love is given without merit or condition. A love that brings hope and a future without fear. In this love we find approval, not because of anything we have done, but because of what has been done for us. Without question, His love changes everything. But that was only the beginning. Within a matter of months, all of our immediate family came to know Jesus. We had each begun a relationship with the Lord that would last throughout eternity.
And it all started because one mother prayed, “Please, God, save my child.”