Lost in a Desperate Situation
As I stared at the screen, the nurse explained that it monitored the baby’s heartbeat. I was excited to be a part of my son’s birth.
So I watched his heartbeat as if I knew what I was looking at. Of course, I didn’t, but I was pretty sure the heartbeat shouldn’t be dropping.
The young doctor came in smiling and offering some small chat that I dismissed with a question. “Should the baby’s heartbeat be dropping like that?”
He looked at it a little longer now and said, “Sometimes these monitors aren’t quite accurate as they need to be” He told the nurse, “We're going to place a sensor directly on the baby’s scalp.”
The doctor said it’s a more accurate way of monitoring the heartbeat when the traditional method comes into question.
Minutes later, with the sensor in place, the doctor and I are now staring at the monitor. I told the doctor: “The heartbeat is still dropping; should it be doing that?” He didn’t answer me, only tap, tap, tap of his fingers resting on the monitor table.
Tap, tap, tap again… then after a silence of what seemed like minutes that was only about 5 seconds, I heard the doctor speak very loud, barking out orders to the nurses in the room and more nurses came running into the room.
I heard “The baby is in distress,” “OR,” “STAT,” and “IV,” and maybe another “STAT,” I can’t remember at this point. But they were acting fast, and I knew my son was in trouble.
A nurse told me they were going to do an emergency C-section.
I started to follow as they were rushing my wife off to the operating room when a nurse turned around, pointed to a minor surgery waiting room, and said, “you’ll have to wait here; we will come and let you know the status of your wife and son.”
I was in a daze, lump in my throat and a splitting headache — I didn’t know if I would throw up, pass out, or cry hysterically.
I looked around this small room with all the chairs and not very many people except a small group of black ladies and gentlemen. There were 5 or 6 of them were gathered around in a circle praying.
I walked up to them, waited for their prayer to end, and told them of my son, and I was scared he might not make it. So I asked: “Would you pray with me?”
They smiled at me and said, “Of course!” The next moment I was in their prayer circle; I didn’t know the words, but they did.
After 10, 20, or 40 minutes more (who knows, my mind wasn’t able to perceive time very well), The doctor came out, smiled at me, and said:
“Your son and wife are both fine!” I thanked him and turned to my new prayer partners thanked and hugged them.
I never saw these wonderful people again — maybe they were angels put there for me at this most desperate moment in my life?
Whatever the case, I have my son, and many times think back over these 25 years and give thanks to God and my brothers and sisters who helped me that day.
