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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
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