On the Miracles In My Life

mir·a·cle
Pronunciation: \mir-i-kəl\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin miraculum, from Latin, a wonder, marvel, from mirari to wonder at
Date: 12th century
1 : an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs

These are the MIRACLES that have occurred in my life - the examples of Divine Intervention that go beyond the ordinary.
1. My husband. Despite the day to day drudgery of raising a family, working, maintaining a household; the frustrations of living with another person who (gasp) doesn’t think always exactly like me; the tendency to take one another for granted…. Despite all of what is “marriage” in the modern world, I have to admit that my husband is the result of a miracle in my life. God undeniably brought us together. I was a newly-graduated physical therapist living in Washington State, Rob was a newly-graduated engineer living in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I got a tax return (my first tax return from my first “real” job), and wanted to buy a telescope with it. My father talked me into buying a computer. I was literally on the internet for the FIRST TIME, when I stumbled one evening upon (through random clicking of links) the message of a “yooper”, who wanted information about moving out West. I remember he said that he and a buddy of his wanted to move West; the mountains in North Idaho were one of his favorite places on the planet. They were MY favorite, too. I felt an enormous compulsion to reply to this message for some reason. I HAD to. A friend had come over so we could go out to a movie, and I remember saying “I can’t go yet. I HAVE to reply to this message”. I HAD TO. And so I did. We began writing back and forth. This eventually led to phone calls, and I found myself talking on the phone for 8 hours at a time to this perfect stranger half a country away. It astounds me now that we had that much to talk about. After several months, Rob agreed to fly out to meet me. The first thing he insisted on doing was meeting my parents. That weekend we went camping, to the park, to the movies. The next month, I flew out to meet him and his family. By our third date, Rob had proposed, and planned to move out west. I am NOT a spontaneous person. I am not a risk taker. And yet here I was agreeing to marry a man I had spent only days with physically. We were married a year later. There are so many variables that could have been minutely different, and we never would’ve met. So many random decisions that would’ve precluded this life that I have now with my husband, the family we have made. And yet, here we are. I often tease Rob that he was SUPPOSED to be a telescope. Yet God knew that what I really needed was a husband. And I trust that He knows what He’s doing.



2. My Boys. Rob and I tried for five long, agonizing years to start our family after we were married. After a year and a half , I realized that something must be wrong, and we saw a doctor. After exhausting his “tricks”, we were sent to a fertility specialist two hours a way. There we started down the road that so many infertile couples journey: surgery, tests, fertility drugs, artificial insemination. Yet nothing worked, and the stress on our marriage was immeasureable – financially, emotionally. After three and a half years, we were referred to a reproductive endocrinologist in a town four hours away, to begin IVF. We had heard good things about this doctor, and were assured that we would finally become the parents we had dreamed of being. The doctor told us that our chances were excellent. Our first round of IVF started without a hitch, and 11 healthy eggs were harvested. The embryologist then injected Rob’s sperm into those healthy eggs, and we waited patiently to hear about how many of our “babies” grew. No one called at the appointed time. Hours later – still no call. Eventually, we heard that not a single one of those eggs fertilized. It was a scenario that had never happened before in any of the specialist’s knowledge – the procedure normally has a 75%-80% successful fertilization rate. The embryologist was highly skilled, one of the best in the country, and yet our trial had failed more miserably than any in history. We were devastated. I remember Rob wondering whether our genetics were compatible. We assumed (although the fertility clinic denied it adamantly) that some mistake HAD to have been made on their part, because this just didn’t happen. Not only had we failed to achieve a pregnancy, but we had failed utterly. Eventually, we bought two more rounds of IVF, and decided to try again. The second attempt, three embryos fertilized, and we opted to use all three. When Rob got a job offer near his parents, we jumped at the chance, assuming that triplets were on the way and that we would need help. Before the move was complete, though, we lost the pregnancy. Heartbreak again. After moving to Michigan, Rob insisted that we have a new beginning. He was never in favor of fertility treatments, but did not want to adopt, either. That left us nowhere, if we wanted to be parents. I prayed incessantly, anguished over this. I felt so strongly called to be a mother, and yet it seemed the likelihood of that happening was quickly deteriorating. We had one more IVF attempt paid for, though, and it was our last, dim hope. I would fly back to Spokane to the fertility clinic as soon as my period started and I could start the fertility drugs. My period never came. I was furious at my body for ruining this one last chance at motherhood. In tears, I called my sister, who suggested that I take a prenancy test.  Was she KIDDING?  After all I'd been through?  I did what she said though... bought the test at the dollar store,  because I wasn't about to waste another cent on those stupid, disappointing tests that had always been negative.  This time, however... there was the faintest of second lines.  Every other test I'd ever taken had been an undeniable "negative".  I called Rob into the bathroom, asked him what he saw on the stick.  "A line".  Was there two?  Well, maybe.  We'd never had a maybe before.  That day I called the fertility clinic and told them that I wasn’t able to start the drugs “on time”, and requested a pregnancy test.  The results? Pregnant. Unbelievable.  The nurse, when she called with the results, told me she wouldn't have ordered a pregnancy test in our case, because she knew the heartbreak we'd been through, and knew it wasn't a possibility.  But I had requested it, and here we were.  Pregnant.  Without fertility drugs, without the help of medical science. God had allowed us to fail miserably at everything MAN and SCIENCE knew how to do, to show us His glory. We couldn’t do it, but God could. I firmly believe that. As I had already bought my plane ticket, I ended up flying out to Spokane anyway, and seeing the endocrinologist. He did our ultrasound, and asked “did anyone tell you that this pregnancy was unusual?” I panicked immediately. WHAT WAS WRONG?? He showed me the baby, it’s sac, it’s heartbeat. Thank God. The baby was allright. Then he said “and here’s the OTHER baby. You’re having identical twins!” We were astounded and thrilled beyond belief. God is so good!!! The doctor kept saying “Wow! I didn’t do this one? You did it yourselves?” The doctor might have thought that “we” did it ourselves, but we knew better. It was Divine intervention. We COULDN’T do it ourselves. God blessed us on HIS time, through His power – not through our own. We had to fail, science had to fail, man had to fail – utterly and completely, so that His glory could shine through. As if to leave no doubt about the nature of this amazing gift God had blessed us with, the boys were born on my birthday. Happy Birthday to me, from God. I get to be a mom.

3. Quinn’s Kidney. We knew before the boys were born that there was water on their kidneys. It was a difficult pregnancy, I had gone into labor at 22 weeks, and was on bedrest alternately at home and in the hospital for the remaining 12 weeks of the pregnancy until the boys were finally born 6 weeks premature. We were told not to worry about the boys’ kidneys – they wanted me “calm” to keep the contractions under control, and assured me that by the time they were born, the kidneys would be normal. In the NICU, however, the hydronephrosis was found to persist, and both boys ended up getting kidney infections – extremely dangerous for preemies. There was talk of flying them to Ann Arbor for emergency surgery, but the nephrologists eventually thought we should wait until they were big enough to handle such major surgery. We soon found out that each boy had a “dead” kidney, and would need it removed. That was scheduled soon after their first birthday. The surgeries were long (5 hours each) but successful. Colby’s other kidney was fine, but Quinn’s remaining kidney was still had grade IV-V reflux (the same as the kidney that Colby had removed). He continued on daily antibiotics, and we were told he would need an additional surgery when older to correct the problem. If the reflux persisted uncorrected, he would most likely need a kidney transplant. For another year we watched Quinn closely, had regular tests to assess the damage to his remaining kidney, gave him daily medication. When visiting my parents one spring, however, my mother asked if we could have Quinn anointed at church. I was skeptical, but thought there was no reason not to. The priest called us up during the service – Rob holding Quinn (who was fussing and crying, and had spent the first half of the service in the narthex so as to not disrupt everyone else), my parents, Colby and I, and my sister’s family. We were asked to lay our hands on Quinn as the priest anointed him with oil and began praying. It was no ordinary prayer. Father Jack prayed under his breath, but I could tell it was not English he was speaking – he was praying in tongues. Quinn, surprisingly, fell immediately into a deep heavy sleep in Rob’s arms. He didn’t awaken for the entire rest of the service. Rob leaned over to me and said “something happened. I could feel it. He just went so instantly calm.” After the service, my normally reserved husband went up to Father Jack THREE TIMES to thank him, and to tell him that he knew “something happened” during the anointing. I, however, remained hopeful, but wasn’t counting on anything concrete. A month later, we were back in Michigan, and it was time to have Quinn’s annual kidney study done at a hospital two hours away. The doctor started the procedure, and then asked me “What am I looking for again?” I told her grade V reflux. She was quiet. An hour later, she said “Well, I don’t see anything.” Nothing? Not at all???? “There’s no reflux here.” He was healed. Completely. I remember calling my mom, and she started crying. “It’s a miracle!” I have the xrays from before and after, which I keep up in my closet as physical proof (mostly to myself) of this miracle. A follow up visit to our nephrologists downstate confirmed the healing. I remember asking him “does this happen? Can grade V reflux just GO AWAY on it’s own, within a month?” He said “Well, it DID happen, so it must be possible.” That’s all he would say on the matter. Whenever I recount Quinn’s kidney history to other doctor’s now, they always ask me when his corrective surgery was done. I told them never. He was healed. They invariably are shocked that the healing occurred without surgery, which reaffirms my conviction yet again that God is good and works extraordinarily in our lives.

4. Reagan’s Prophecy. I felt enormously blessed by the gift of our sons, their miraculous entrance into our lives. The fear of never being a mom was so tangible, that I gave thanks to God outloud every day that He honored me with my boys. I couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that someone was MISSING. We weren’t complete yet. I felt a little greedy about that. God had already granted me a miracle. And I wanted more??? I had always wanted four children. Rob, however, was perfectly content (or overwhelmed) by our two rambunctious boys. He didn’t want more. This again caused tension between us. I KNEW someone was supposed to be there, and felt like God was telling us that we weren’t done. Rob was convinced it was my biological clock speaking and not the Lord of Hosts. I knew I wanted four kids, but I felt like we were only missing ONE – that, to me, was proof that my “feeling” wasn’t of my own origin. Anyways. When the boys were two and a half, I was at work one day when a truly amazing thing happened. I was doing therapy with a 10 year old autistic boy, when he suddenly stopped, looked at me, and said “Monica, who’s going to be my therapist when you have the baby?” I was shocked, but said “I’m not having a baby. You don’t have to worry about that.” He was insistent, though, and very worried about who would be his therapist when the baby arrived. I tried to divert the conversation, thinking it inappropriate. He would not be diverted. “Matthew, I’m not having a baby.” “Yes you are,” he replied. “It’s a girl. Monica Jr. She’s standing there waving at me! See? She looks like you, and she’ll be born in November.” This was September when all of this occurred – further proof that this young man was just being silly. He would not let up the entire hour, no matter how many times I tried to change the subject. He was so INSISTENT, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being spoken to by more than a 10 year old boy. The next morning, I gave in and took a pregnancy test. I was, indeed, pregnant. And, if Matthew was right about the rest of what he said, we were having a girl. The November thing? Well, maybe he was just being silly. This baby would be due in May. Well, late in October, I miscarried. Turns out it was a molar pregnancy – just an empty sack. We were, of course devastated. The next time I saw Matthew for therapy, he looked at me and said “Where’d the baby go? Is she born?” I told him she was up in Heaven. He just shrugged, and said “Oh. She was supposed to be born in November.” He never said another word about it, and not long after moved out of state with his family. I was devastated once again, but felt guilty about my grief – how greedy was I to want more than what God had already granted me? After all we’d been through with the boys? The feeling wouldn’t go away, however, that someone was MISSING. I felt it so strongly, and yet Rob was adamant it was my DESIRE for another child talking, and not something more. Tension grew between us again. Finally, one day, Rob said “Fine. If you can get pregnant before you turn 35, I’ll consider it. Otherwise, you need to give up this idea of another child forever.” I knew my fertility was poor. We’d been married almost 10 years by that time, and I’d been successfully pregnant only once, despite being open to pregnancy for most of that time. So I prayed. I remember distinctly one day praying to Mary – something I am admittedly not in the habit of doing. I remember praying “Mary, you are a mother, and know the desires of a mother’s heart. If you see fit to ask your son to bless us with another child, I would be truly thankful.” That was it – my simple prayer. On Easter Sunday, 2 months before my 35th birthday, I gave in and took a pregnancy test - certain that it would be negative just as every other disappointing test had been before it. This time, however… it was positive! I was ecstatic!! How fitting to find out about new life on Resurrection Sunday!! Even more surprising, our first ultrasound showed us that we were having identical twins yet again. What a roller coaster. At 9 weeks, however, I lost one of the babies, and was again on bed rest for a short time. That’s when it occurred to me… I had always wanted four children, but strongly felt like God only promised us ONE more. It helped me through that miscarriage, that promise. And despite early labor pains that threatened an early October delivery, we made it until NOVEMBER, and gave birth to a baby GIRL. Just like Matthew had said we would. Little Reagan Anne, who looks a whole lot like her Mommy.