Meet My Daughter. Meet My God!
On a cold Friday night in 1998 I was invited to attend a youth service. I was not sure that I was going at first because I was feeling quite tired. I had just found out that I was 7 weeks pregnant with my fourth child. In six years. When I parked in front of the massive brick church, I could hear the praises spilling into the street. I immediately rushed in. The place was packed with people of all denominational, cultural, and economical walks sending up united adoration. Young people were literally dancing in the aisles. It was the perfect atmosphere for a miracle.
I was enjoying the jubilant and energetic force in the room when suddenly I felt a warm sensation. It ran down my leg slow and deliberate. Immediately I stopped clapping and singing and made a mad dash for the ladies room. What I found there was frightening. Never in my other pregnancies had I seen blood before the birth. I walked back into the service and began to scan the crowd looking for someone to take me to the hospital. With hands lifted, was my friend Sunjia (pronounced Sonya). Something about her whispers care and comfort. Perhaps it's the warm smile. Or maybe it's the soft arms. I know now that she is just an angel. While making my way through the crowd, I struggled with how to tell her what had happened. "Sunjia, I am pregnant again and I need to go to the doctor." "Sunjia!" "HELP ME! I AM BLEEDING! " When I look back on this night, that is a detail which still escapes me. I cannot seem to recall what I said to her. I just remember balling up my coat to sit on to keep her truck seats clean.
I looked at the lights as we drove. It was a beautiful night, I think. There were so many thoughts in my head. What is happening to my baby? What will they do when we get to the hospital? Should I call Keith now or wait? These thoughts did not last for long. The hospital was less than 10 minutes away and God had ordained this pregnancy.
On three different occasions, the Lord sent his prophets with the news of a daughter. Honestly, I was not at all enthused after carrying and delivering 8 pound boys. Keith, my husband, was even less enthused but that is another story altogether!
As we pulled up to the emergency doors, I felt a peace that would prove odd to others. I knew walking through those doors that this night was the beginning of a faith testing ordeal.
In emergency room fashion, I was whisked away, hooked to machines, and poked over and over. By now I have soaked my foundational garments and nurses are scurrying to find more. I called my husband to let him know what happened but not to worry. I asked about the boys and assured him it would be better if he stayed with them. He was not happy but agreed. The next call was to my sister in Milwaukee. I had not told her of the pregnancy either. No need. She was there for the prophecies. And she believed.
After parking the car, Sunjia had joined me again. We talked about why I had not told anyone about the baby. Why I had not wanted to have another child. And how did I know it was a girl. Our talk was interrupted by a doctor that I later referred to as a Doogie Houser lookalike. He appeared to have not been old enough to shave let alone give me an internal exam. He proved that he had gone to medical school after all when he did all the stuff you see on TV. It was now time for Dr. Doogie to give me the bad news. He started off very professional but soon he was at a loss. "You have lost a lot of blood and the pregnancy has begun to terminate itself. It is tearing apart inside and it will all be over by midnight tonight." I started to laugh and that is when he entered my world. He continued to talk, trying hard to help me grasp the seriousness of this grave situation. "We need to keep you here a little while longer and run more tests." I turned to my friend and said, "I'm ready to go." I could see the concern in her eyes and the doctor did also. He chimed in once again and said "You don't seem to get it. This is serious." Now I had an obligation to introduce him to faith. I was happy to do it. "No, you don't understand! God promised me this baby and I am going home with this baby. She is fine and I am ready to go. Get a nurse to get these tubes out of my arm and where are my clothes?" I went on to explain that if he is right then there is no need for more tests. If he is wrong, why can't I go home?
He became increasingly baffled and frustrated. He had to try one last time to get through to me. He warned me that I should prepare to collect the remains sure to be expelled from my body. I should save them in a jar and take them to my obstetrician for analyzing. Surely she will find the cause of this defect in my body. I said thank you and cracked a joke about whether to use a mayo jar or jelly jar. Needless to say, he did not see the humor.
On the car ride home (Sunjia and my husband insisted on driving me straight home and not back to church) I began to silently talk to God. I first thanked him for just being with me the whole way. I then asked him dry up my issue. My prayer was simple and direct: I did not ask for this baby but I want her. I love her. I cannot imagine You promising her and then taking her away. My sons already call her their sister. She is part of this family. We need her. My husband wants his little girl. The prayer seemed to go on even while I talked in the car. My heart just kept on pleading with God.
The hospital was fifteen minutes from my house if you traveled the highway. When we pulled into the driveway, Keith came running out to meet us. I hugged Sunjia and thanked her for being there. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped bleeding. I suddenly realized how dry I felt. I could not wait to get to the restroom. I didn't say anything about it. I just immediately walked inside. It was true. The bleeding had stopped! I was thrilled. Once I recapped the night for my husband, I topped it off with this sign of a miracle. My prayer had been answered. We prayed some more and went to bed.
On the following Monday morning, I was sitting in the OB's office with a nurse. My doctor had ordered an ultrasound and retrieved the records from the emergency room. The nurse was feeling quite empathetic towards me. She talked in hushed tones while she rubbed my arm. The calmness made me wonder if I was a mental patient and she was afraid I was getting ready to lose it. While lying on the table with my tummy exposed, I noticed she turned the screen away from me and then turned down the sound. She apparently thought it would make things easier when she told me the pregnancy was terminated. As she rolled the wand over my stomach, she seemed to be preparing me for the worst. She kept asking what the doctor had already said. She asked how the weekend felt. She asked what I did with my "leftovers". In the midst of preparing me, she had to prepare herself. I watched her face as it changed. It was as if the Lord Himself walked into the room and she finally recognized Him. She spun around slowly and said "Oh My! Something has happened here!" Hesitantly she turned the screen my way and turned up the volume. There it was! A heartbeat! Strong and fast! I don't know who was more excited. Me or her!
Again God answered my prayers! When I look at my daughter Hannah now (a 9 year old straight A student), I see HIS mighty hand at work. I know that He allowed us this ordeal to introduce Himself to some people that needed to know HE is real. I often share this portion of the story as a way of encouraging people to exercise their faith. The word of truth reminds us "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony." Rev 12:11