The Blessing of a Lifetime

By the 4^th pregnancy I was knee deep into alternative health.  When our third baby had suffered severe asthma, we overhauled our lifestyle. After a doctor told me Blake would need to be on long-term steroids (in order to breath) and they would stunt his growth, I decided to take a different approach.

Our new lifestyle brought about all kinds of changes. Among the eating, sleeping and exercise changes, I developed more natural ideas about what I’d like the birth of the fourth baby to be like. I was envisioning a doula, a bathtub or anything natural.

In my search to find what I wanted, I visited various birthing centers and doctors. I was amazed that what I thought I wanted, did not provide the peace that I needed to know I was in the will of God. Despite my own strong will, my understanding of being in the will of the Lord prevailed. I was not going to go where I did not feel His leading.

Regardless of all my ‘natural’ ideas, God led me to a doctor who was as alternative as Andy Griffith (not at all). There is nothing wrong with his style but it was just not what I had in mind.

He was a solo practitioner (which is totally unique these days). His urine collection cup was a metal dish that hung on the rim of the commode and was repeatedly used. Dr. McClain had not only delivered many of my friend’s babies, but he had delivered many of my friends as well.

He was a wonderful man with a precious staff, but nothing about this setup fit into my paradigm of alternative ‘natural’ medicine. He was a Godly man and his office was the only place where I found my peace.

“Come on God, you know what I want…” I carried on like we all do from time to time when God’s will overrides our own. However, I had been blessed many times before while resting in the center of His will, so I obeyed.

I was technically in obedience, but I was secretly seeing a doula and planned on introducing the idea of having her attend the birth towards the end of the pregnancy.  To my utter surprise, at the end of the nine months my doctor announced he thought I should have a C-section.

Get out of here! What in the world? This was not natural whatsoever! Why? His reasoning was because I had already had one C-section before and my previous delivery had gone down in the history of the hospital as the most out of control labor ever; I am certain.

He believed, that despite my desire to go naturally, that I should have a cesarean to avoid another event like the previous birth. I was really bummed out. I had two births after my first C-section and I was not ready to jump on board with this plan; without at least trying to go naturally. However, I was seeking the will of the Lord and I was ready to submit to it wholeheartedly to this doctor.

Then almost as plain as day, I heard the Lord press upon my heart, “I chose this doctor for you, I expect you to submit to his authority.” When I heard that, I wasn’t going to argue.

“Fine, I’ll have a C-section,” I obediently complained.

We picked the day, my husband and I walked into the operating room. Bada-boom, bada-bing and our fourth son was here, before we knew it.

Something was wrong. It was his color. His lungs weren’t inflating.  He was whisked off the NICU. Our baby had a pneumothorax, a hole in his lung. My new baby was headed one direction and I was taken to my room for my own recovery.  I had anticipated nursing my new son, but in reality I was empty handed, brokenhearted, not knowing what the future held.

Throughout the first night the nurses came up repeatedly and had us sign papers. “Grady needs a chest-tube.” A few hours later they came back, “Grady’s had a setback; he’s pulled his chest-tube out and needs another one. We’ll need to sedate him, so it doesn’t happen again, he’ll need a feeding tube.”

“Sorry you’re so ‘natural’ but he needs many, many X-rays”. “Sorry you aren’t into medication but he’ll need antibiotics”.

Hours passed and the news seemingly got worse, they wheeled me down to see him. There he was, sedated with tubes coming out of everywhere. I couldn’t hold him, I couldn’t nurse him. I just read my Bible to him and stood on a foundation of hope in one of my darkest hours.

I remember feeling the prayer of the saints in a truly tangible way. What I experienced was a miracle. I was not devastated; I was peaceful, even though I did not know whether my new son was going to live or die. People all over the world were praying for us and I could feel it as though it were an object in the hospital room. I never knew you could feel prayer that way.

I’d go through it all again because of how my understanding of God grew during that period. One woman from my church showed up, I barley knew her. “I’m going to pray that you will be able to stay here in the hospital with your baby until he is released.” That was so unlikely, what kind of a hospital would allow that? I needed that kind of hope however, so I clung to her prayer like a life-raft.

I remember calling my church office in tears, “I just wish I could hold my baby.”

“Yes, Charlotte,” said the voice filled with compassion (from a woman who had indeed lost her 4^th son in utero) “but you know Who is holding him.” She was right, Jesus was holding my baby, and when she pointed that out to me, I rested in peace again as I went through the storm.

Slowly our little baby began to improve. Eventually over the next two weeks, tubes started to be removed. As the days passed the hospital miraculously found spare room after spare room for me to stay in. It was ten days, ten days of provision and ten days of faith as we walked this scary, unplanned road.

Finally it was time to take our little miracle home. There would be no further to-do, the lung was healed, and nothing left but a tiny scar to remind us of a Big God.

When I went back to my doctors office for my checkup, my conventional doctor’s wife (who was also his receptionist) pointed out something that I’ll never forget. She noted that our baby most likely would not have survived labor.

Oh My God, she was right! God had provided for us in the most remarkable way. I was so thankful that He had instilled His wisdom to this doctor and that we were in the care and support of the hospital. I was so thankful I had listened to Him and obeyed, despite my own feisty will.

It’s been eight years since that baby arrived. I have been growing in obedience, with him at my side, ever since. Thank you God for your provision for my family, help us to always obey You no matter what we think.

Proverbs 3:5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.