For some time now it has been on my heart to share my testimony here but for reasons I dare not try to explain, I waited. Now I’m certain now it’s time. I don’t know who it’s for but I trust you will find these words at just the proper time and it will encourage your soul and strengthen your faith in The Father – no matter how your circumstances work out.
I am the mother of two beautiful teenage girls, 19 and 14. I am also the mother of 8 others, sex unknown, who were never held in my arms but went straight to the bosom of Christ. When I had my first miscarriage, I allowed the enemy to make me think the baby’s death was punishment from God because he’d been conceived in sin. (You will notice that I refer to all of my rainbow babies – babies of miscarriage or still birth – as boys.) That’s another story all together but I no longer believe that lie. Children are a gift from God and conceived in or out of His perfect plan, He loves them and would not allow their demise just because of the way they were conceived. The other 7 I lost were conceived within marriage so that settles that matter.
For the most part, each pregnancy that ended in miscarriage was normal and uneventful. The one I’m about to share does not fall into that “most part” category. It’s funny that I can’t remember the year but I know it was a Super Bowl Sunday because I left my husband watching the game and drove myself to the emergency room. The discomfort I felt probably could have waited until the following day, but I figured after Super Bowl there would be a rush in the doctor’s office on Monday and didn’t want to take a chance – but I digress.
I went in complaining of bloating. Like I said, it was basic discomfort. When I was checked-in, the nurse had trouble getting my blood pressure so the doctor came in to try it. That should have been a red flag but I didn’t catch it. Finally, the doctor pulled me aside and told me I didn’t have a blood pressure. Still not getting what he was saying I told him I tend to be anemic. He finally said, very calmly I might add, “No, Mrs. Horton. You don’t have any blood pressure. You have the blood pressure of a dead man. This has nothing to do with anemia.” Still not catching the significance of what he was saying I simply replied, “Okay.”
He sat me down and continued to calmly question me:
Doc: “Do you feel dizzy?”
Doc: “Do you feel unusually tired or weak?”
Doc: “Maybe I should speak with your husband. Is he in the waiting room?”
Doc: “Who drove you here? Can I speak to them?”
Me: “No, I drove myself.”
Doc: (Not so calmly this time.) “What!?!”
Me: “I drove. I only needed help passing gas so I drove myself while my husband is watching the game.”
Doc: “Please wait here. And remain sitting if you would.”
I’m still not getting what the big deal was. I had gas, the pressure had eased up and now I just wanted to get home before the big game ended and the drunks left the bars. After several minutes the ER doctor returned and told me he’d spoken with my obstetrician (OB). Though it was against his better judgement, he was sending me home but I was to return first thing in the morning to see my OB. He again made sure I felt fine and saw me to the door after I assured him I was feeling better.
I got up the next morning and went to my OB, still clueless as to why a bout of gas would cause such an uproar. Instead of having my vitals checked by a nurse and sitting in the waiting room, I was immediately ushered into my doctor’s office. I’m thinking to myself, “Sweet, no waiting room or sterile exam room.” Still clueless. My doctor tells me to have a seat and lets me know the ER doctor was quite concerned as was he. He asked how I felt and had anything different been going on along with several other seemingly unimportant questions. I assured him I was fine. I’d felt bloated but that had eased up.
Finally, he explained, “Mrs. Horton, according to the readings you had in the emergency room last night, I’m looking at a dead woman.” “Huh, what?!” “I’m going to recheck but I’m certain I know what’s going on. What I don’t know is how long it’s been going on or how you’ve managed to survive.” Now I’m finally getting a clue. He rechecked my pulse and vitals, and apart from the no blood pressure thing, I was fine. He then explained it was almost certain I’d lost the baby but he wouldn’t rule anything out because again, I’m a dead woman walking. I was taken for an ultrasound - nothing.
When I say nothing, I mean they could see nothing. My abdomen was a wall of darkness – all black and no light at all. My baby was dead, and unless they did something quickly, I would be too. Somehow I managed to keep it together (or at least I think I did because I’m kind of losing it now.) But my doctor went on to explain that they would do a laparoscopy to see exactly what they were dealing with. If it confirmed what he thought to be internal bleeding, they would then go into an emergency Cesarean Section and repair what they could. Before he could go on with his explanation I remember blurting, “I don’t want a blood transfusion!” At the time, it was not being properly screened for HIV and I didn’t want to take a chance. I told him if God saw fit to keep me this long, He’d see me through surgery. Unless my heart began to stop, no transfusion and I made him promise. He shook his head but agreed.
I then told him I needed to make two phone calls. I called my husband and briefly told him I was about to go into emergency surgery. No I didn’t feel he needed to be there but would he kindly bring me my Bible and my toothbrush. I was going to be staying awhile. I gave him a brief rundown of the situation but we’d been down this path before and handled it very differently. He’d not yet accepted Christ and though I knew he wanted this child, he shut down in order to cope. I didn’t push – I just prayed. (By the way, He is now a true man of God – HALLELUJAH!) My second phone call was to my girlfriend Debra, a mighty woman of God and a prayer warrior. She was at work but that didn’t matter. I told her, “Debra, they’re taking me into emergency surgery. I lost the baby. Please pray.” And pray she did, right there in the commander’s office she let the Spirit have His way as she went into intercession. When she hung up even my doctor was in tears.
When I awoke, my husband was there. Though he didn’t stay long, he wanted to be sure I was okay. I lied and told him yes because I wanted him to be okay. He sat with me a few minutes (which was a miracle in itself since he hated doctors and hospitals), gave me my Bible and my toothbrush, kissed me, told me he loved me and went home. The doctor came in later and told me someone up there really likes me. I’d had an ectopic or tubal pregnancy meaning the embryo, my baby, had attached himself in my fallopian tube instead of in the uterus. As he grew, the tube ruptured. Based on the age of my “son”, I’d been slowing bleeding internally for about two weeks.
So you see, I believe in miracles because I am one. This testimony is one of many that I have witnessed in my life. I won’t tell you about my mother who twenty years ago was given two months to live. I won’t tell you about pulling my little Toyota Corolla into the path of a fully loaded, speeding 18 wheeler truck only to have my angel push me back out of its path just as it should have hit me. I won’t even tell you about missing a bear that stood as tall as the hood of my minivan while on all fours when all reason said that not only should I have hit him at 57 mph but that I did hit him – yet not even a hair was on my vehicle. I won’t tell you about all of those miracles, but I could.
God is not dead and He still cares for His people. I don’t care what circumstances say. So I don’t care what kind of miracle you stand in need of, KNOW God loves you with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3). KNOW God will never leave nor forsake you (Deuteronomy 31:6, Hebrews 13:5). He tells us Heaven and Earth will pass away but His Word will never fail (Matthew 24:35). He will not and cannot lie (Numbers 23:19). So I say to you, whatever you may be facing today, big or small, God cares (Psalm 139, 1 Peter 5:7). Look to Him and TRUST Him. His truth always overrules our circumstances.
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firstname.lastname@example.org. Be blessed, dear reader, and know that God loves you and I do too.