Great and Mighty Things, Part 1

The issue of the sanctity of human life is important to me because it is personal to me. God allowed us to have a very unique birth story with our first pregnancy, which reinforced all the lessons I had ever learned about God. He is great. He is good. He is the Creator, and He has a plan for every single life that He creates. Over the next several weeks, I want to share our story with you. May those same lessons be established in your heart and mind as you read of God’s working, and may you, along with me, give God the glory!

I lay in the hospital bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing, God?” I thought. “Why am I here, and why is this happening? What are you trying to show me?”

Oh, how little I knew and understood of God’s ways that day. But He was about to teach me in remarkable ways just how big, how great, how mighty, and how trustworthy He truly is!

In the fall following our first wedding anniversary, Mike and I learned that we were expecting a baby! We were thrilled, and we called all of our family, far and wide, to share the good news. That Christmas, we went to Indiana to celebrate with my side of the family. Several of my relatives thought that I looked “too big” to only be a few months along. They suggested that I ask my doctor for an ultrasound.

When we returned to Colorado, I did just that. The doctor agreed that I was measuring quite large, and he too wanted to see what was going on. January 9th, I had the ultrasound. Immediately we could see TWO beautiful baby girls, side by side. They looked like mirror images of one another. The technician confirmed that we were indeed expecting twins.

Immediately after the appointment, Mike and I went out for lunch. We sat at the restaurant in a daze. Occasionally, one of us would say something.

"Two car seats!"

"Two cribs!"

"Two high chairs!"

"Two teenagers!!!!!"

And so began our adjustment. Realizing that God was blessing us with two bundles of joy, we were too overwhelmed to even do anything but pray.

The following weekend, I felt a little achy, and I just had the overall sense that something was not right. I spoke to my mother-in-law about it on Sunday at church. She recommended that I give my doctor a call on Monday morning and let him know. Most likely, he would be able to put my mind at ease.

So I called. The receptionist listened to my complaints, and then asked me to wait on the line. In a very short time, she returned.

"The doctor would like for you to come in to the office at your earliest convenience, please," she said.

"But I don't have an appointment scheduled," I worried.

"We'll make time to see you."

Comforted by their prompt attention, but also a bit concerned, Mike agreed to take me to the office right away.

We were immediately ushered into an exam room, and the doctor came in to do an examination. Within a few minutes, he addressed Mike and I quite seriously.

"Well, I know why you aren't feeling well," he stated. "You are in labor."

Believe it or not, I was so young and naive, that I got excited.

I asked, "You mean, I'm going to have the babies today?!"

"It does look like it," he said, "but that is not a good thing. You are only 24 weeks into this pregnancy. If your babies are born today, they will not likely survive. I have already called for a life-flight helicopter to transport you down to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in Denver. They specialize in premature labor and birth, and they have a Level 4 NICU. (I later learned that stood for Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit.) They are the best-equipped hospital between St. Louis and Los Angeles to handle this scenario. They will be here in 15 minutes."

We were shocked, of course. Overwhelmed. Confused. And a myriad of other emotions. I remember trying to get up from the table to use the restroom, but a nurse told me I was not allowed to get up. Every little movement endangered our babies' lives a bit more.

So we waited for just a few moments until the helicopter came. We prayed together and begged God to spare our babies' lives. When the emergency crew arrived, Mike left to go home and gather some belongings for me to have in the hospital. He brought one change of clothes for himself too, in case we ended up spending the night. Little did we realize that this would be the beginning of months of days and nights in that hospital!

In the meantime, I was strapped to a stretcher, wheeled to the roof of the hospital, and loaded onto the helicopter. Strangely, I was not afraid. We took off and only had to fly for about twenty minutes before reaching the new hospital. As soon as I was brought into the maternity wing, a team of nurses and doctors met me. They rolled my stretcher into an ultrasound room, full of some familiar and some not-so-familiar equipment.

The doctor in charge was a woman, probably about 40 years old. She told me that they wanted to do an ultrasound along with a few other procedures to try to understand what was going on and why I was in labor. So I agreed. They used the ultrasound to guide them as they put sensors on both of the babies' heads. This would allow them to track the girls' heart rates. They also inserted a huge needle into my abdomen, again using the ultrasound as a guide to ensure that they didn't hurt the twins, and they withdrew amniotic fluid from both sacs. Once these tests were completed, they took me to a room and settled me into a bed. I was given medication to stop the labor, which worked almost immediately. I also was adorned with the obligatory monitors, keeping watch of my heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, and any contractions I might continue to have.

All of this had taken about an hour to accomplish, and Mike arrived very shortly after I was taken to my room. Again we prayed, and he let me know that he had called his parents, who were now on their way. He also had called our church office to start a prayer chain. Within a few hours, there were people praying all over the country and even around the globe for our tiny baby girls.

I took a nap, while Mike notified various members of our family about what was going on. Eventually, the doctor from the ultrasound room, along with a host of other doctors, came to explain what they had learned.

The amniotic test revealed that there was an infection in one of the twins’ sacs. They called her Twin A. The infection had not yet spread to Twin B, but they said it would. It was just a matter of time. This infection was a serious one, so they believed that it would also spread to me, probably into my blood stream. They felt that it would be deadly for all three of us. Their recommendation was to have an abortion and try again later to have a baby.

Believing that all life comes from God, we did not want an abortion. We told them very plainly that our lives were in God's control. And then we asked, "What are our other options?"

They talked among themselves for a few minutes, as though they hadn't even considered that we might reject their first suggestion! Then they said that we would just have to deliver the babies and hope for the best. They warned us that at 24 weeks gestation, most babies would not survive. Those who did make it were severely handicapped, unable to communicate, eat, or even hold their heads up. Mike and I agreed that we would take that option over abortion. I remember my husband telling the doctors:

"If God takes the lives of our children, then so be it. But we will not presume that is His will until He does it. Please do everything you can to save the babies and my wife."

The doctors agreed that they would. They went to confer with one another about how to best go about delivering these fragile infants, and they left us to wonder and pray.

After several hours, they came back to us with a game plan.

"We have been thinking and researching about your case. Since only Twin A has the infection, we’d like to consider delivering her before the infection could spread to Twin B. Then both babies would have a better chance of survival. Twin A would be out of the infectious environment, and Twin B would still be in the womb, able to grow and develop as she should. The chances that this will work are slim, but it could be the best option for all of you."

It may not have been much, but it was better than just letting our babies die without trying to save them. We agreed to the experimental delivery, and the doctors began making preparations for it.

The following morning at 6, I was given an epidural and medicine to once again induce labor. Then followed a very, very long day. For 15 hours, I labored. My assigned nurse, a young lady named Rachel, never left my side. Mike and I talked. We discussed baby names. We prayed. We cried.

At one point in the day, my nurse realized that Twin A's heart rate was slowing down in relation to the contractions I was having. They quickly brought in a portable ultrasound machine to see what was going on. Twin A's umbilical cord had somehow gotten tangled and wrapped around her neck. Each contraction was tightening the cord, causing her heart rate to drop. The doctors were immediately called in. They gave us an ultimatum:

"This baby is probably going to die before delivery," they stated. "Do you want to just let things be as they are? Or do you want us to do an emergency C-section? The C-section would force us to deliver both babies right now. You need to decide before the next contraction, so you have about one minute."

One minute?! To decide the fate of not one, but two babies?! That isn't possible! Mike rushed to his parents, who were anxiously waiting just outside of our room. They prayed quickly for God's wisdom. In that moment, Mike felt a flood of peace. God was assuring Him that He would do what was best for His children.

The doctors were preparing for the C-section as Mike ran back into the room.

"Leave her alone! God will take care of it all!"

Within a few seconds, another contraction began. But instead of causing the cord to tighten around our daughter's neck, the baby twisted and flipped. The cord actually loosened and slipped over her head, freeing her from being strangled! God spared her life, and we watched it all on the ultrasound!

From that moment on, we knew that God had a very special plan for our girls. We did not know all that lay ahead, but we knew that God would be with us each step of the way.

That evening, January 16, 1996, at 9:21 PM, our Twin A, Rachel - not named after her nurse, although that was a neat correlation - was born into this world. She was tiny, beyond imagination, weighing in at one pound, ten ounces, and measuring just 13 inches long. She was blue, skinny, wrinkled, and absolutely beautiful!

After she was born, the doctor had instructed the nurses to bring her close to me so I could see her. They expected that she would die very quickly and that I would not be able to stay with her, since I was still carrying her sister. So the nurse lifted her right up next to my face. I reached for her hand and called her name, "Rachel Ann, Mommy loves you so very much. You are a miracle from God, sweet baby girl!"

As my hand touched hers, she wrapped her itty-bitty fingers around my pinky. Her whole hand was not big enough to encompass my littlest finger, but she squeezed. I believe that God was telling me through that special gesture that I should trust Him. He had it all under control from the beginning, anyway.

More of this story will be told in the coming weeks, so stay tuned!