A warm July wind danced around the dead of night in Austin as the doctor walked into
my hospital room. Still groggy from surgery, my husband - Gary - was holding my hand.
That afternoon, complications had forced me - while only 24 weeks pregnant - to undergo
an emergency cesarean to deliver our new son, Adam.
At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and 8 ounces, we knew he was perilously
premature. Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. "I don't think he's going to
make it", he said. "There's only a 10-percent chance he will live through the night, and
even then, his future could be a very cruel one". Numb with disbelief, Gary and I listened
as the doctor described the devastating problems Adam would likely face if he survived.
He would never walk; he would never talk; he would probably be blind, as his eyes were
still webbed shut. He would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from
cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation; and on and on. "No! No!" was all I could
say. We had all dreamed of the day we would become a family of five.
Now, in a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away. My husband said that we
needed to talk about making funeral arrangements. I felt so bad for him because he was
doing everything, trying to include me, but I just couldn't listen. I said, "No, that is not
going to happen, no way! I don't care what the doctors say. Adam is not going to die! One
day he will be just fine, and he will be coming home with us!"
Adam clung to life with the help of every medical machine and marvel his miniature body
could endure but as those first days passed; a new agony set in for Gary and I. Because
Adam's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially "raw", the lightest kiss or caress
only intensified his discomfort - so we couldn't even cradle our tiny baby boy against our
chests. All we could do was to pray that God would stay close to our precious little boy.
As the weeks went by, he slowly gained weight and strength. When Adam turned two
months old, I was finally able to hold him. Five months later, though doctors continued to
warn that his chances of survival - much less living a normal life - were next to zero,
Adam went home, just as I had predicted.
Four years later, Adam is a very small but feisty young boy. Although he has numerous
medical and physical problems and impairments, he shows no signs of mental retardation.
But this happy ending is far from the end of his story... One afternoon - not too long ago -
Adam was sitting in my lap watching his brother's ride their bicycles. As always, he was
chattering non-stop with me. Hugging his arms across his chest, Adam asked, "Do you
smell that?" Detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, I replied, "Yes, it smells like rain".
Still caught in the moment, Adam shook his head, patted his thin shoulders with his small
hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay
your head on His chest". Tears started burning my eyes as Adam then got down to play.
His words had confirmed what we had known all along - During the first two months of
life, when his nerves were too sensitive for us to touch him, God was holding Adam on
His chest, and it is His loving scent that he remembers so well. In case you didn't know -
this is a true story of my son Adam. A friend of mine helped to write this for me around
this past Christmas time. I wanted to share it with you so that you can see that miracles
truly do happen to everyday people like us. All you need to do is keep the faith!
Love Margaret
Isn't God so good to us?
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