Proof The Bible Is True

“Administering the power of love through kangaroo care. I’m sure this type of care can be used in many different situations.”  Admin

 

I ran down the hospital corridor, the doctor’s words echoing in my mind–“You’d better come quick. We’re losing her.” My husband, Bert, and I burst through the doors of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and stopped short.

 

All those weeks of hoping, praying, I imagined the day that we’d bring our newborn girls home with us–all three of them. Never this. Two of my babies clung to life, and the third was slipping away.

 

The doctors stood around little Abby’s incubator, their faces drawn. The nurses who’d tended to her for weeks choked back tears. I had no reason left to hope. This is goodbye.

 

Not so long before, I’d given up on starting a family. I’d gotten married when I was 20, but it ended in divorce by the time I was 26. I watched my older brothers get married and have kids, while I struggled to meet someone new.

 

I was a sports reporter for the local TV station; there had to be some guy who would be interested in me. But nothing worked out. Countless times I cried out to God, depressed and tired of feeling so alone. When I turned 40, I thought that was it.

 

Until Bert came along. We met at the gym. He was ambitious, with a good job in finance. For a big, strong man, he was a softy on the inside. I fell for him in no time. He was my answer to prayer. He proposed to me at home in Phoenix–he hid the ring in my purse–and we were married nine months later.

 

We both wanted to have children, even though we knew that at my age, it would be problematic. The doctor told us I only had a two percent chance of getting pregnant naturally, so I underwent in vitro fertilization. Surprisingly, it worked the first time around.

 

Then came the sonogram. I was pregnant with identical triplet girls! I pictured us walking on the beach, the five of us hand in hand. The girls dressed in matching white sundresses with bows in their hair, kicking at the sand. It was as if God was helping me make up for lost time.

 

Less than five months into my pregnancy, I collapsed at work. There was a lot of bleeding. My whole body shook with fear. I was rushed to the hospital. Test after test brought more bad news.

 

Read More: Holding on to Love–and Life | Guideposts