Hello, everyone. Since last week’s story was based on true events (click here to read last week’s story) , I’ve decided instead of posting my usual character interview, I’ll share the true story with you. You see, this story is very close to my heart because it isn’t the story of someone I know, but of myself. The baby in the picture at the top of last week’s story (and this post) is me.
My mother’s dream, ever since she was little was to have a child. If she had had her way, I would have had five, or more, siblings. But, as is often the case, life didn’t turn out exactly as she’d dreamed.
When she was 19 she fell in love with, and married, my dad. He’s 22 years older than her and a widower with two grown children. He also was unable to have any more kids. This bothered my mother, but she left it in God’s hands.
As my parents went along they were happy, but my mom kept dreaming of a child. They tried to adopt, and it fell through. It broke my mom’s heart, but she kept her faith. You see, God had told her He would take care of it, and she believed Him.
My parents weren’t, and aren’t, people with an extravagant amount of money, but they felt the calling to try a procedure they had heard about called artificial insemination. (If there are any kids reading this, you can ask your parents what that is, but if they say you’re too young to know, accept their words and trust they’ll tell you later, please.) They had enough money for one try, and so they did it. Although the procedure often didn’t take in the first go around, it did for them, and my mother became pregnant with me. Twelve years after she had married, her dream was finally coming true.
At first her pregnancy went along without too many issues. She’d get sick if she waited too long after she awoken to eat, but other than that she was okay. She was so happy.
But then, the her doctor ordered her to bed rest. She had pre-eclampsia, a disorder that can be life threatening to mother and child. (Click here for information from the Mayo Clinic about this disorder.) After six weeks of bed-rest this is the point at which I began the story I told last week. The doctor decided she needed to be induced and delivered. The problem was, she was still six weeks from her due-date. She was scared, so was my dad, but on January 15’th, 1992, 12:35 AM, I was born. I had all ten fingers, and all ten toes which were attached to feet that look like my aunt’s. Strangely enough, I even had what looked like my dad’s nose!
Everything in the story I shared last week was true, but in a fictional format. When I was three days old, a grade four bleed was found in my brain. (Click here for information about brain bleeds.) They tried several times to relieve the pressure, hoping the bleed would correct itself, but it didn’t. It was at this time, one day when my mom was crying beside my bassinet that she heard the voice of the Lord clearly, as if He was in the flesh and standing beside her, say that this would only happen once. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it was the truth. The peace she felt can’t be described in words. My dad told her to hold onto it.
When I was ten days old, the doctors cracked me open and inserted a shunt they said would need to be replaced, because of my small size ,before I hit a year of age. Then several times again throughout my life because of growth and the use of my existence. There wasn’t much positive that the doctors told my parents. They said these things only happened to very sick babies and that with everything I was facing, the early birth and the brain bleed, I had a statistical 1% chance of leading a normal, productive, and healthy life. They said I was at an 85% chance for extreme cerebral palsy (click here for information), learning disabilities, and serious seizures. They also said I would die if or when the shunt malfunctioned if I didn’t get help right away.
From the world’s point of view, I would be in for a lot of brain surgeries to replace the shunt during my life, along with being confined to a wheelchair, have difficulties speaking, and be unable to care for myself or fully understand what was going on around me. But, and I can say this with certainty because I’m reminded of it every day when I look in the mirror, God intervened. He told my mom it would only happen once, and I’ve only had the one shunt surgery. The tube they first placed in my head is still there today. The doctor’s can’t explain it, but I can. My parents, and I, serve an amazing God.
Where the doctor’s saw a life for me confined to a wheelchair, God had a plan that included walking the runway as a model. Where the doctor’s saw a life where I wouldn’t really be able to speak or understand, God had a plan that included never shutting up, and a high I.Q. I don’t normally post about my faith, but rather I try to live it out. But in this instance, dear readers, I wanted to share with you what has been done in my life. I have never had a single seizure, and when I start to experience the signs of a shunt malfunction, I pray, reminding God of the promise He made, and I am at once whole.
My parents were amazingly strong. I dedicate this post to them and pray that one day I might be as strong. Thank you so much for reading. I hope that although this post was different, you have enjoyed it none the less.
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you’ll check back next week for another fun story.