CSFTS Miracles, counting blessings, June 1, 2026
I awoke at 5 am, aware of something warm in my bed.
I shuffled to the bathroom, feeling that warmth trickle down my legs.
Surprised, I showered and contemplated my day.
I interrupted Greg from his prayer time.
“We’re having a baby today. We need to get ready, but there’s no hurry. I’m not in labor. But they will want me to deliver within the day, since my water broke.”
That jolted Greg awake.
Ad“Today? Are you sure?”
It was five weeks until my due date.
Yes, I was sure.
We packed up our two toddlers, ages three and 18 months, and left.
I drove the kids, followed by my husband. Halfway there, I began to wonder about the wisdom of this plan. Me driving with my water broken, but I kept on.
Dropping the boys off created a stir, and added to my nerves as I drove the two miles to the hospital.
I calmly approached the nurses’ station in L&D, surprising my friends. Eyebrows raised, the nurse asked me if I was sure my water had broken.
Really? Come on.
I was mildly offended at my friend and former co-worker, for doubting my ability to know. My calm face threw her.
Yes. I was sure.
The nurse handed me a gown and I went to change.
Then I noticed the pink fluid coming out of me, and I began to get nervous.
I mentioned the pink amniotic fluid to my nurse when she hooked me up to my monitors. Since my water was broken, they would induce labor. The baby needed to come today, or risk infection. Plus, that pink fluid was a factor.
I don’t remember my nurse starting my IV.
I do remember the first drips of Pitocin.
My contractions began right away, and with the first few hard ones, I saw and felt a red puddle the size of a dinner plate appear between my legs. I called my nurse, shaking as I monitored my own fetal heart rate strip, terrified.
My strip looked bad. Deep decelerations in my baby’s heart rate came with my contractions. And I barely had even started. But that blood…it was not supposed to be there.
Dr N happened to be walking through the ward, and they pulled him in, although he was not my regular OB. When he walked in, the pain began, and I began to cry from pain and fear. It was not a contraction. It was constant, and I knew what that meant.
“Well, we are going for a C-section, and we are going now. And given the nature of this emergency, I won’t be tying your tubes as you previously requested.” The meaning hung in the air—there was no guarantee that our third son would make it. Maybe we’d like to try again after all. I nodded mutely.
Someone notified my husband. Maybe it was me. He was there before they wheeled me out of the room. My rock.
Before Dr N hastened down to the operating room, I asked if Greg could be with me, and he assured me that yes, he could accompany me for the delivery.
But when we neared the OR, they stopped Greg. I was in panic mode. “Dr N promised,” I argued.
“Not for an emergency. You’re getting general—no outsiders.”
Emergency or not, I was mad at this guy. But, considering that he would hold my life in his hands, I gave up, but not without tears streaming down my cheeks. Mostly for my husband, who I knew wanted to be a part of this. I needed him.
I cried as they rolled me away from my husband, and quickly prepped me.
Dr N apologized. It was just policy. We couldn’t risk the time necessary to get a spinal in, which many laboring women already have in place before a cesarean.
My nerves settled when Dr N prayed before I succumbed to the anesthesia. He prayed for our baby, for himself, and for everyone present. I was overwhelmingly grateful for that prayer.
Next thing I knew, I awoke in my recovery room bed. So groggy, and hurting, but my dear husband was at my side.
When I came down from where I was floating over the room (a scary reaction to the pain medication) I finally heard the news that our baby, though small, was doing just fine.
A miracle.
My placenta had begun to abrupt. The blood and the pain indicated that it was tearing off the wall of my uterus, not only dangerous, but potentially fatal, for me and my baby. In a complete abruption, our pediatrician told me, I would have had eleven minutes to deliver before our baby could have died from loss of oxygen, and I would most likely have died from hemorrhage We lived 25-30 minutes from the hospital.
I considered that God, in his mercy, allowed my waters to break. Although I did not know that I was in labor, it got me into the hospital. Driving myself was foolish, but seemed practical at the time. Angels surely accompanied us. Much could have gone wrong along the way, and I would have been helpless. God protected.
I’d been in labor the whole day before. I’d been exhausted, unable to chase my two energetic boys. I camped out in our hammock the whole day with a backache and “stomach bug” while they placed in the dirt with their trucks.
Adam, our twice-saved miracle baby brought joy that we could not have imagined.
When I found out I was pregnant just eight months after our second was born, I cried. I felt overwhelmed. We didn’t have space for this baby in our little house. Two babies already had me crying uncle.
But when at eleven weeks I started to miscarry our baby, suddenly I cried for another reason. Though unplanned, he was ours, and I didn’t want to lose him.
My doctor gave me no hope of him surviving with all the blood I was passing. Too young. Just go to bed and call in the morning to see if I needed a procedure to clean me out.
We called the family and I mourned the loss of the baby I didn’t know I wanted so badly.
I bled all night, more blood than I’d ever seen come out of my body. When we went to the Dr the next morning, I was exhausted. I didn’t want a D&C, but we needed to know. I could get an infection if we didn’t take care.
When the technician put the ultrasound probe into me, we all gasped! Despite all of the bleeding and cramping, we had a tiny baby inside, kicking around and defying all odds!
Even my reserved husband shed tears of joy! We left that office amazed at God’s miracle.
I spent weeks of that pregnancy on my sofa, bleeding, calling my doctor on her personal line more than I should have. Panicking every time more waves of blood came.
Through the difficult pregnancy, and the near-disaster delivery, we could see clearly that God meant for us to have a third son. He planned Adam. And we are blessed to have this sweet, mischievous, fun-seeking boy in our home.
