Date: Tue, 23 May 2000
This is the story of my personal experience with
God and my firsthand experience as He performed a miracle, well, two miracles.....
my sons. The hospital staff referred to them as "Baby A," and "Baby
B."
When I was 31 1/2 weeks pregnant, just under
eight months along, I went into preterm labor with my twin sons, also my
first children. The pregnancy itself was a difficult one; I had to quit
working and was placed on bed rest with only bathroom privileges. My bloodpressure
rose weekly. I saw my doctor every week so he could monitor the boys and
me. At 5 months, he started me on steroids to hasten the boys' lung development.
As I lay in the ambulance rushing to Little Rock,
I remember thinking, "Dear God, please take care of us..." And that
He did. At 1:35 a.m. my first son, "Baby A" was born, weighing only
3 pounds and 8 ounces. He was whisked away from me immediately and I never
saw him until 2 p. m. that day. "Baby B" was born at 1:36 a.m., weighing
3 pounds 11ounces. He too was whisked away before I saw him. However, God
was already working.
On the delivery table, my blood pressure was so
high, the doctors were concerned I would have a stroke. I did not. In recovery,
I saw "Baby B" go by me in an Issolette. He was screaming and very
pink. Thank you, God, I thought.
The next days and weeks were the worst imaginable.
They both had apnea and would forget to breath. This day, the first born
had a seizure. The day after their birth, they were put on ventilators.
The next day I was asked to sign a consent form to allow a blood transfusion
for "Baby A." On Christmas Eve, as I prepared to leave the hospital without
my babies, a pediatrician asked me to allow the babies to be transferred
to Children's Hospital.
At Children's the boys were separated due to
space, but were stable. I remember each day,
leaving the hospital without my children, feeling
like the loneliest person on earth. At night, I cried myself to sleep and
prayed that the phone wouldn't ring. Because I just couldn't handle bad
news. I would awaken in the middle of the night and call the hospital and
speak to my boys' nurses and ask them for an update and ask them to tell
the boys I love them.
When they were 4 weeks old, and off the ventilator,
we had to teach them to suck a bottle. They were fed mainly by feeding
tubes but learned gradually to suck. However, they couldn't remember to
breath as they ate and would turn blue often for lack of oxygen. God fixed
this problem too.
When we were able to hold the boys with all their
tubes and IV's, I would rock them and sing, "Jesus Loves Me" and say prayers
with them every night. They love that song to this day. Another obstacle
hit us when they were five weeks old. "Baby A" aspirated and was
put back on the ventilator. He had to be sedated every few hours and his
head was held down to the bed with diaper pins and ace bandages. It was
the most pitiful sight, he would struggle to
get up and see. I would cry in agony as I held
one son, and sang "Jesus Loves Me" and watch the other one struggle. I
could barely choke out the words. But I knew God heard me and would keep
my boys safe.
At six weeks old, both boys were home. It was
so chaotic the first weeks, but I was given patience by God. I CAN do all
things through Christ who strengthens me! At five months old, both boys
are healthy and weigh over thirteen pounds. They laugh, coo, and smile
every day. I remember God's miracles each moment that I hear them laugh
or cry...and I am able to handle the bad times because I know God will
always be with my family.
I thank God for my boys, and for a wonderful husband,
Trey. We are a team! All things can be accomplished when we work together.
My cup runneth over with a precious family and good friends.
I wrote this letter to inspire anyone who needs
encouragement. Even when the world says,
"you can't do it," or in my case, "they won't
survive", know that God sees no limits and can do anything! God bless you
all.
Amanda