A Treasury of Miracles for Women (11 page)
“Thank you,” Miranda said, leaning back on her heels and looking up into the man's face. She had lived in the neighborhood for thirty-five years, but had never seen this person before. Miranda glanced back down at her flowers and frowned.
“They aren't as pretty as they could be if I had more time to take care of them,” she said. “My mother's sick. She's in a nursing home.”
The man gazed at Miranda kindly. There was some thing unearthly about him, a glow almost. He waited for Miranda to continue.
“She was given the wrong medication and now she's dying. I want to be there as much as possible.”
She looked at the man, and was embarrassed to feel tears welling up in her eyes again. This man was a stranger and here she was telling him all her problems.
“Don't worry about your mother,” the man said, his voice strong and gentle. “God is in control.”
Miranda wiped an errant strand of hair from her fore head and brushed the dirt off her gloves. How strange that someone she didn't know would offer such words of wis dom. The man continued to stand nearby, watching her closely.
“Sir, where do you live?” she finally asked.
The man said nothing, but only pointed upward. In stinctively, Miranda's eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and she looked toward the sky. When she looked back down, the man and his dog were gone. There was no sign of them anywhere along the street, and there was no way they could have vanished so quickly.
Miranda was shocked. She thought back over the con versation she had shared with the man, and she realized that she hadn't seen him arrive. He had just appeared with words of encouragement and then disappeared.
“God is in control,” he had said. Miranda pondered the truth in the man's words and found that as the evening passed she felt less burdened.
The next morning, Miranda received a phone call from the nursing home. “Mrs. Thompson, you'll want to come down as quickly as possible,” the administrator said. “Your mother has died very peacefully in her sleep.”
Miranda shut her eyes as one hand flew to her mouth. Nothing could have prepared her for the truth, and she felt a sob catch in her throat. Then, before she could give in to the sorrow that threatened to consume her, Miranda re membered the man in the garden. A sense of peace came over her, and suddenly she knew her prayers had been answered. She told the administrator that she'd be down in a few minutes. Then she bowed her head.
“Dear God,” she whispered through her tears. “I un derstand now. There are no accidents where you're con cerned. Mother didn't die because of that nurse or the medication; she died because you were ready to bring her home. Just like the man said, you are in control. I under stand that better now, Lord. And I thank you.”
K
endra Adams spent a decade battling to protect the rights of the unborn and often she would be asked a hypothetical question: “What if your baby was severely handicapped? Wouldn't you want the choice to abort?”
And always Kendra would smile patiently and shake her head. “Life comes from God. He has a reason for each and every one of us.”
Still, never in her wildest imagination did Kendra Adams ever think the issue would become personal. Then she married. She and her husband, Peter, a podiatrist, spent three years battling infertility and praying for a child.
When the Ann Arbor, Michigan, couple learned Kendra was expecting a baby, they rejoiced, thinking their troubles were over.
At first the pregnancy went along normally. But four months later, Kendra went in for routine testing and re ceived the first warning that something might be wrong.
“The good news is that you seem to be carrying twins, one boy, one girl,” the doctor explained. “But I'm con cerned about the little girl. She is too small for her gestational age and she doesn't seem to be developing properly.”
Kendra glanced at Peter and then back toward the doc tor. “I'm sure it's nothing,” she said. “She'll be fine, Doc tor.”
“Let's do some more testing. Just to be sure.”
During the next four weeks, Kendra learned that the female twin she was carrying had developed a severe birth defect in which most of the brain develops outside the skull in a sac at the base of the neck.
“I'm sorry,” the doctor said after delivering the blow one afternoon. “There's nothing we can do.”
Peter Adams studied the doctor, hoping there was some ray of hope that might still exist for his unborn daughter. “There isn't anything that can be done? Surgery?”
The doctor shook his head. “This condition is fatal be cause any distress to the brain stem causes immediate death in most cases. Babies with this type of defect will never have any protection for their brain stem since it has devel oped outside the wall of the skull.”
He went on to say that even if the baby did survive for a short while, she would have no chance of any intellectual development.
Kendra hung her head and allowed the tears to come.
Help us, God,
she prayed silently.
Work a miracle in our little girl's life.
The doctor cleared his throat and shifted uncomfort ably. “I'd suggest we perform a selective abortion to take care of the problem,” he said. “That way there would be plenty of fluid and room for the other twin to develop.”
Kendra wiped her tears and stared at the doctor. “You mean you want us to abort our little girl?” she said, aston ished.
“Mrs. Adams, she isn't going to live anyway. This would make it easier for everyone. There's no reason why you should have to go through the trauma of carrying two babies only to have one of them die at birth.”
Kendra stared at her husband and shook her head in disbelief. “Doctor, I can feel my little girl kicking. I know which side of my womb she is lying on and when she sleeps and wakes up. She may not have a very long life but she will have a safe and comfortable one. Abortion is out of the question.”
Peter nodded. “I suppose we'll need to talk with some specialists about the specifics of the birth.”
“All right.” The doctor shrugged. “But I can see no rea son at all to carry this baby to term.”
The couple left the office in tears, and almost immedi ately Kendra began trying to resolve the dilemma they were suddenly a part of.
“Let's name her Anne Marie,” Kendra suggested on the ride home. “St. Marie was a very sickly child just like our little girl. But God had a plan for her life, anyway.”
Peter nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Let's get everyone we know praying for her.”
In the next few weeks Kendra and Peter made phone calls to dozens of people, who in turn promised to call oth ers, so that in time hundreds of people from churches across the country were praying for Anne Marie.
“Pray for her to be healed,” Kendra would ask. “And please pray for her safe delivery and continued health.”
Next, Kendra researched Anne's condition online and learned about doctors and support groups that specialized in neural defects. She spoke with neonatologists, talked to neurosurgeons, and faxed sonogram reports wherever any one was interested.
“You need to rest more, Kendra,” Peter reminded her gently one evening. “You're taking this on as if you could fix the problem yourself.”
Kendra nodded. “I want to do everything I can to help her, Peter. You understand, don't you?”
“Of course. But I've been thinking a lot about Anne. It's like someone is trying to remind me that sometimes God has a plan different from our own.”
Kendra understood and never during her pregnancy did she blame God for allowing Anne Marie to develop a birth defect. Still, she had absolute confidence that he would grant her a miracle and heal her unborn twin.
By the time she was six months pregnant, the twins had found permanent places on either side of her abdomen. Ultrasound tests showed which side Anne Marie was on, and Kendra learned to recognize when the babies were awake. She would spend hours talking to her children and praying aloud for them.
“God has a plan for you, little Anne Marie,” Kendra would say. “Don't give up, honey. Everything is going to be okay.”
About that time, Kendra quit working so she could stay home and allow her body to rest. Specialists had told her that additional rest might make the difference in whether Anne Marie survived the pregnancy, or died weeks prior to delivery.
During those weeks, there were times when Kendra pondered the irony of Anne Marie's situation. After all, Kendra had been active in the fight against abortion for more than a decade. Now she was faced with the very situation many people had used as a hypothetical when debating the abortion issue with her.
Kendra had been raised in a family where life was a pre cious commodity. It came as no surprise to those who knew her when she became politically active in college, in a number of ways that, in her opinion, were completely har monious. She placed bumper stickers on her notebooks and was vocal as both a feminist and a prolife advocate.
Eventually, her convictions led her to a position as president of the National Women's Coalition for Life. “Every life counts,” she would say. “God has a plan for each of us.”
Now, as she prayed for a miracle for Anne Marie, she felt no less certain that the baby was worthy of life. But gradually, as the weeks wore on, tests showed that the sick twin's defect was even more serious than doctors had first thought.
“We doubt very much that she will survive the preg nancy, Mrs. Adams,” the doctor said. “We'll monitor you every week to be sure she has a heartbeat.”
Week after week Anne Marie survived. By the end of Kendra's second trimester, she and Peter had a highly trained neonatal team scheduled to deliver the twins by ce sarean section, since labor would be fatal to little Anne.
About this time, friends of the Adams suffered a tragedy. The couple had celebrated the birth of their son that month only to learn that he had a fatal heart condition. Without a valve transplant, he would die. The baby was fourth on the waiting list when his heart succumbed and stopped beating.
When Kendra learned of the situation she sorrowed with her friends, but did not see a connection between that situation and her own.
“We need to keep praying for a miracle,” Kendra would say. “God will heal Anne and everything will be fine. I know he wants the best for us.”
When Kendra was nearly eight months pregnant, she was sitting in church one morning when she was overcome with the thought that she was praying with the wrong in tentions. Suddenly she heard what seemed to be a voice of authority telling her to pray for peace, not miracles. The feeling came over her again that evening as she lay in bed, feeling her twins move within her and thinking about the future.
“All right, Lord,” she prayed quietly. “I pray for peace and acceptance. If there is a reason why this has to be, then I will trust you.”
In the next six weeks she focused her energy in a dif ferent direction. If Anne were to die at birth, then she and Peter would need help dealing with the loss. She contacted organizations that dealt with the loss of a child in multiple births, and others that helped parents handle the death of a young child.
There was one more thing. She talked with Peter one night, and the next morning she called the Regional Organ Bank of Michigan. She explained Anne's situation at length and recalled the death of their friends' son.
“We want our little girl to make the difference in an other child's life,” she said finally.
Kendra was told that it is very difficult to find donors for infants in need of a transplant.
“When an unborn child develops life-threatening ab normalities, the majority of those pregnancies are terminated,” she was told. “And when a child dies unexpectedly at birth or shortly after, the parents are often too traumatized to consider organ donation.”
Kendra laid her hand on her extended abdomen and knew they had made the right choice. Anne Marie's life would have a purpose; now she was certain.
Finally, the morning of December 13 arrived and Kendra and Peter drove to the hospital for the scheduled cesarean section. They had mixed emotions, knowing that Anne would not live long outside her amniotic sac.
As the doctor prepared her for the surgery, Kendra stared at him, her face pensive.
“Little Anne is so safe and comfortable, we were won dering if maybe you could just take Jeffrey out and leave her in.”
The doctor glanced ruefully toward Kendra, under standing her feelings. “How long should we leave her in?”
“Two years,” Kendra smiled sadly through her tears. “Three.”
At 9:20 that morning Jeffrey was delivered and let out a healthy cry. A minute later, Anne Marie was placed pro tectively in Peter's arms as doctors worked to stitch up Kendra's abdomen.
“It's much worse than we thought,” the neonatologist said quietly as he examined Anne. “She's dying.”
Peter nodded and smiled tearfully at both his parents and Kendra's parents, who had flown into Chicago so they could have a chance to hold Anne before she died.
“You can hold her if you like,” he said.
Kendra's mother took Anne gently in her arms. The child's eyes were open and she gazed into the older woman's face.
“Your great grandmother died not too long ago, little Anne,” the woman said softly, nuzzling close to the infant. “We called her Bubba and I want you to sing to her when you meet her up in heaven.”
Then the woman launched into a traditional English lullaby, singing as tears streamed down her cheeks. When she was finished, she passed Anne Marie to the other grandparents so each could whisper to the baby, telling her how much they loved her and that they would see her one day in heaven.
The medication and recovery from surgery made it im possible for Kendra to hold her right away, so Peter cradled Anne in his arms when the grandparents had had their turns.
“Anne, we will always love you,” Peter whispered into the deep blue eyes of his little girl. “You will always be a part of this family and someday we'll all be together again.”
Anne moved slightly and kicked off her receiving blan ket. Tw o nurses standing nearby glanced at one another in surprise. Four hours had passed and still the infant was alive, defying medical understanding of the severity of her condition.