My Story, His Glory

Part 1: A Second Chance

As I look back at my life, I see God was in every moment. It just took me over three decades to see that truth clearly. Now, I struggle with where to begin telling my testimony of His amazing mercy and the depth of His love that sought me out every time that I wondered away from Him. I think it is best to start my story at the turning point in my life. At that point in my life, I had been married for five years and we have a little girl who was the most easy-going toddler in the world (a miracle really) and I was about to give birth to our second child-a boy.

I was thirty-nine weeks pregnant in the hospital for a stress test to monitor the effects my hypertension was having on our baby. In the hospital, my blood pressure got dangerously high. I was told that I wasn’t leaving the hospital. My doctor was on leave to visit his new grandchild. The doctor on-call had broken my water that night. I was in labor until after eleven the next morning. After pushing for a short time, I had a feeling there was something wrong.

Soon, my feeling would be confirmed by the doctor. My baby boy was stuck on my pelvis. I was told I need to have a C-section to get him out. I agreed and signed the paperwork. The problem was that both surgery rooms were full. It was going to an hour and a half before one would be available.

I had to wait and on top of it the medical staff told me not to push. I was scared for the safety of my baby and in pain because I could feel his head striking my pelvis bone. In that moment, I knew there was nothing that I could do. In my desperation, I decided to pray wondering if God would actually hear me. You see,

At this time in my life, I only prayed when I wanted something from God. I didn’t know if God was still listening or even wanted to hear from me because I had turned my back on him. I had grown up in church believing in God and Jesus. I had even been baptized twice. Once because my best friend did and the second because I feel I wasn’t saved the time before. However, in my teen years I lost a desire to attend church. I never stop believing that God was the creator; however, I begin to question his goodness for several personal reasons as well what I saw on the news stations. I begin to question the truth of the Bible. I wondered if the devil was even real or just a myth parents and religious leaders made up to scary people into doing what they wanted them to do. I questioned if Jesus was God’s chosen son and savior of souls.

My parents forced me to go to church when we moved. I hated it. I, also, stopped going to church when I turned eighteen. I even went as far as to avoid being friends with Christians because of bad experiences with them. Over the next year, I grew comfortable around non-Christians. They were easier to be around. Growing up around Christians, I also felt like a failure. Like I never measured up. I grew to believe some non-believers had better morals than Christians. But most of all, I thought most church members were fake. I connected God with people in a building called church, so turned my back on God and my life seemed great until this moment in my life.

Despite all that, I knew the only thing I could do was pray and believe. Looking back that was all I needed to do. I begin with quiet prayers in head, but the pain soon had me begging God to help me. I may have even cry out to Jesus a few times. After a while of fighting pushing, I swear I heard God say, ‘It’s okay, just push.’

That hour and nearly a half seem to take an eternity. The doctor came to tell us that it was time to go to the operating room. But first, he decided to check me before they wheeled me to the surgery room. That is when everything changed. My boy was crowning. I was back to pushing him out naturally. I could feel the struggling to pull him out.

When I saw my baby, I waited and listened for him to release his first cry, but it didn’t come. I knew there was something wrong when I saw the nurses rushed him to the table. I could see that he was bruised from the trauma as well turning blue. I watched helplessly as they work to get him to breath. I ask if he was okay and a nurse told me that he was fine, but I didn’t believe her. Deep inside, I knew that my baby was dying and I knew that there was nothing the medical staff could do.

Once again, I begged God to let him live. I offered to take his place. A life for a life. I, honestly, don’t remember how long it took. I just remember I begged and I pleaded. The moment when I prayed, “God, I will do anything you ask me to do, if you just let him life. My life is yours. ”In that moment, I heard the nurses laugh and the I heard the cry I had been begging for.

Now, I know that God could have taken my life very easy that day. My blood pressure was averaging 210 over 110. Yet, he decided to let both my son and I live. He had plans for using that moment in ways I may never know. A group of nursing students got to witness the whole thing and I know they heard my cries out to God. God works in many directions at the same time. The doctor knew it was a miracle as well.

Before we left the hospital, the doctor told us that our son was a blessing. He explained that baby have some oxygen in their bodies from the placenta, so they are different than those ready born who would have been labeled a “code blue.” He even told me, if I had not pushed during that hour and almost half that our baby probably would not have survived. We were also informed that because the doctor had to push his arm back in to get him out and dislocated his shoulder. He also may have nerve palsy in his left arm and never be able to use it. When I heard that part of me was lost to it. I missed the miracle of that days for years.

Today, my son not only uses his left arm very well, but he is also left-handed. Yeah, God that is that good. He takes what science questions or say cannot happen and proves He can make it happen.