“She’s having a problem breathing,” the nurse told me. 

This was my second baby and I knew after a birth, the baby cries–protesting the cold room and bright lights.  “Will she be all right?” I asked, with concern.

“Your baby is in the best place. The doctors will figure out what the problem is. After all, we’re the largest baby hospital in Oregon,” she  reassured me.

It was a long five minutes before she took her first breath that early Tuesday morning. I heard no crying.

I waited for more news after they moved me up to my room. I wanted a girl so badly. We had our boy. Now our family would be complete with one of each.

Later that morning, I reached for one of the library books I’d packed in my suitcase for my hospital stay, and was interrupted by a volunteer pushing a cart loaded with books. “Would you like to borrow one?” She asked.

“I have some, thank you.” Fear hovering in the back of my mind, I asked, “Would you have a Bible?” 

“Here you go,” she handed me a paperback New Testament. I opened it and began to read,

We know that in all things God works for good with those who love him, those whom he has called according to his purpose. 29 Those whom God had already chosen he also set apart to become like his Son, so that the Son would be the first among many believers.

Reading this assured me that God would work out our baby’s needs and it would be for my good. I was a believer in Jesus and as a young child, invited Him into my life. I wanted a relationship with God and from that point on, I sensed God’s ever-loving presence through my growing-up years and through my teen aged years. When I married my high school sweetheart at age nineteen, the busy-ness of life as a full time college student and a newlywed, I lost sight of God in my daily life. I still attended church most Sundays. My husband and I prayed before meals and if I were desperate about some need, I’d pray. But when this baby girl was born, I realized I’d drifted very far from God in spite of my dutiful visits to church and the routine mealtime prayers.

Please keep my baby alive.

After a day of waiting for tests, the doctors were finally able to tell us what was wrong with our infant girl–who still did not have an official name. They didn’t know why, but just before birth, her blood was transfused back into my body. She was born with only 25% of her blood. It was a miracle she survived! As a result, they gave her a blood transfusion and she began to improve almost immediately. “We don’t know if there will be any brain damage at this time,” they said.

For three long days I waited to hold her. I gazed at her through the nursery window. At last, a nurse marched into my room on a Thursday evening asking,”Would you like to hold your baby?”

“Oh yes!” At last I was able to nuzzle my little baby. Count her toes and fingers. Kiss her for the first time.

We gave her a name: Erika Ann, our miracle baby.

Erika, six days old, with her big brother  Todd.

A greater miracle was my renewed faith and belief in the God who had been there all along. My journey home had begun…

Soon, I joined a neighborhood Bible study and the Bible opened up to me as never before. I pored over it. Not because of duty, but because I wanted to!

That was a long time ago. My children are grown and have children of their own. My relationship with Jesus is stronger than ever.

There have been lots of challenges since then, too many to write here.

With my late husband and the father of my two living children, I learned to mountain and rock climb. At first, I had to learn to trust all of the protective gear of ropes, harnesses, and the devices needed to climb and rappel. I learned it was the only way to remain safe. I began to trust the protection–and my husband Bill, who set it up.

Just as I trusted Bill to protect me as I climbed, I know I can trust God to protect, provide comfort, and give me contentment, whatever my situation. When I battled fears of loneliness, of sickness, of death, it was trust in the Maker of mountains that allayed my fears. And though I may still have my  moments of concern, I know it is God who will provide the protection that will not let me fall. 

Since that  hospital stay and birth of my daughter, where my faith began to flicker and grow, I’ve learned to trust.

I journeyed home–and one day, I’ll be in my heavenly home. As each day passes, it is getting closer.

Oh, and that miracle baby girl we named Erika Ann? I am overjoyed to tell you, she has survived and is flourishing. She’s grown into this beautiful woman whom I consider my best friend.

Happy birthday!