The Miracle Child

Updated: May 26, 2020

“He’s abnormal, do you want to have him?”

The words hit me so hard I could not believe it.

It was a regular check-up in my 11th week and the wait was unusually long. Apparently, different doctors had consulted on my case and the diagnosis was out.

“Your baby’s limbs are not growing normally. The rest of the body is fine, but his main limbs bones are too small. We will have to go for further tests to determine what exactly it is. We are not sure. Should you decide to have him. It's your choice.”

We discussed my options. There were 2 tests. The nuchal translucency and amniocentesis. I went directly for the blood test. One would draw blood so they could test what condition my son had while the other would test the amniotic fluid for more conclusive results.

As I spoke with the gynaecologist to understand the risks involved I decided NOT to do the second test. It would involve drawing the amniotic fluid to check his genes and a tiny risk.

The question in my mind was, if the results showed a high chance that he was abnormal, would I still keep him?

My answer was a quiet yes. His normality or not would not decide his survival. We were having him no matter.

Given I had decided to have him, there was no need for a test because the results would not change the outcome.

I went home. Locked myself in my room and cried.

After 4 easy pregnancies, I struggled to grasp the truth of what the doctors said.

Why me? How do I look after him? Will he need more time, money? Will he take my time away from the other kids? Myself? So many questions filled my mind.

Then, I decided. He was not YET born. Yes, the doctors have valid reasons to tell me what they’ve observed. But I believe in the power of words. I believe that words create our reality and this was a reality that I was not ready to accept. He was still inside me and a part of ME. I have authority over me, every part of me.

I dried my eyes and prayed. I refused to accept that my son would be abnormal.

It was a simple prayer directed to the creator of the universe.

“Every good and perfect gift comes from you. I refuse to accept that my son is abnormal.

I speak life and normality over him now. Darling, you are perfect, healthy and well.”

I fell asleep in exhaustion and woke up when it was dark and time for dinner. I thought nothing more of my son because I chose to hang not the belief that he was completely well.

It was difficult to hold onto a belief when reality was different.

Every fortnight would have the same ultrasound results that he was still small.

I asked if there was something I could do. If there was something I could eat. Maybe it was a nutrition deficiency that I could change that through my diet. Maybe I was too stressed and if I relaxed, it would help in his physical development.

I was re-assured that it wasn't my fault. It was what it was. He was just, abnormally tiny.

While I heard the experts’ opinions. I consciously chose to hang on to the fact that miracles happen. I chose my thoughts. I banished negative fears and clung onto any positive hope.

I chose to remember a story of how a lady spoke health over her son till his down syndrome was almost negligible at birth.

I chose to hang on to a story my colleague told me of her nephew with an unfavourable prognosis and now being a perfect 5 year old.

Overtime I heard an encouraging story, I would repeat it to myself, with tears. Believing against the odds.

I continued to speak that his bones would grow. That he is perfectly normal.

The doctors recommended the earliest full-term delivery because he did not seem to be growing and they would be able to help him when he was outside.

We agreed.

At the delivery ward, his breathing was irregular and I decided on a cesarean because I did not want to add the possible trauma of a natural birth and risk complications. Anyways, I’ve had 4 natural births, this would be another interesting experience to have.

They wheeled me into the emergency ward.

They injected the anesthetic.

They cut me up.

I felt their tugging and my son coming out.

But, there was no cry.

He was silent.

I heard "ward 4 - code blue" over the intercom and knew that was us.

I asked the nurse why he was so quiet, the nurse told me he was comfortable.

I rolled my eyes because I knew that was not true.

Then, I heard him cry.

Yet, they would not show him to me.

I wondered why.

"Was he alive? Did he have abnormal limbs? Were they trying to keep a horrible news from me?"

"Pass him to me! He needs me." I wanted to scream out. But I kept silent.

They wheeled me out.

I met my husband and asked how our son was.

"He’s handsome.." my husband confidently replied "..just like daddy."

I realised they did not pass him to me because he had some issues with his lungs and they were doing the best they could earlier.

I visited him in the nursery as soon as they would let me.

As I looked at him, I realised. He was perfect.

His limbs were in proportion.

Just like I had declared over his life. He is normal in every sense.

The doctors were wrong. Miracles still happen for those who believe.

He needed to be hospitalised for his breathing and jaundice for 2 weeks.

But he was perfect. He is now a 2-year old healthy, active, lively, perfect boy who brings joy to everyone at home.

No matter what people will say. The loudest voice is your own. Speak life over your kids today. Over your career, your marriage. Choose your thoughts. Hold on to your positive beliefs because, miracles do happen today.

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