From the first day I became a young lady, I had problem after problem with my reproductive organs. I had to have surgery to even be able to conceive. I was able to have three children but each pregnancy was much more complicated than the one before. My third pregnancy was so risky that the doctor told me, "if you ever do this again, find yourself another doctor. I refuse to be responsible for you when you'll not carry another baby passed the second month." Labor started in the fourth month and the baby crowned. I was lying in bed at home and immediately began to pray, knowing I was losing my baby. I stacked many pillows under my legs and bottom. After about thirty minutes, the labor stopped and the baby returned to my womb. I spent the rest of my pregnancy slightly dialated with a severe risk of infections. I swelled tremendously during the fifth and sixth months and it caused a pinched nerve in my lower back. The doctor ordered a sonogram which revealed excessive amounts of fluid. He said, "more than I have ever seen on any one woman." With that, he ordered total bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. On December 21, 1989, during the eighth month of pregnancy, I gave birth to Daniel. He was born with weak lungs and suffered from chronic asthma, bronchitis, and pneumonia. At one year old, he developed a grand maul seizure disorder. His pediatrician originally assumed it was fevere related, febrile seizures, but when he started having them without fevere, the doctor started treating him with phenobarbitol. I prayed for Daniel all the time. One day, when he was in the emergency room with pneumonia, his fever was staying at 106 degrees and the doctors could not seem to get it under control. The nurse was visiting him every ten minutes to check it. After several hours, she'd just left the room and I heard Daniel's fever weakened voice, "Mommy?" I leaned in close to hear him. "How come you not pray for me?" I felt two inches tall. I, of course, immediately prayed for him. Ten minutes later, the nurse checked him again and his temperature was 98.6. His faith was stronger than mine. The seizure disorder continued, worsening with time. It was horrifying to see his face disfigure, his body thrash, his eyes bug out, and foam run from his mouth. He was such a beautiful boy and I cried out to God so many times for his healing, but it seemed to never avail. The doctor was unsure of what permanent damage there would be as a result of the seizures. He had more than 50 of them in one year alone. I took him in to the emergency room one day to find that his liver was failing due to the very high dosages of phenobarbitol. With my face full with tears, I told the doctor, "we had one problem, my son had seizures. Now, we have two problems. We can't stop the seizures even with medicine, but we can stop the effects it's having on him. I don't want him to take it anymore." The doctor ordered me to wean him off of the phenobarbitol against his better judgement. When we got home that night, I laid him in bed and sat alone in the dark in the living room. I heard a sudden terrifying scream that was typical at the onset of a seizure. I went into his room and stood next to his bed to watch him and make sure he didn't fall off the bed. He had the most severe seizure ever and my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. When it was over, I kissed his forehead, covered him up, and left the room. I never turned on a light and had somehow made it into the kitchen in the dark as though I were walking in my sleep. I don't know why I went in there or how I got there, but I fell to my knees in the middle of the floor. I cried out with my face and hands raised to the ceiling, "Okay! Okay! He's not mine. He's yours. But, God, I love him." Then my head and hands dropped and I sat there a long time crying. Daniel has not had another grand maul seizure since that day. As a matter of fact, he has no sign whatsoever that he has ever had a seizure of any kind. Not only was there no permanent damage, but he is now in the seventh grade and has a reading level equivalent to that of a sophomore in college. He has been in the gifted and talented program since kindergarten and is now in all advanced classes. But more importantly, he knows that he's been to the lion's den and back, just as Daniel in the Bible. He has a great respect for his life. He is honest and empathetic. He is the neighborhood child that all the other children look up to and trust. He is a born leader and an all around great kid. But more than anything, he has great reverance for God.
He is not mine, but God is allowing me to borrow him.
What a beautiful gift!
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