I suppose my little miracle began on a cold morning in March of 1999. I was a little over three months pregnant with my third child. I was at my doctor's office for a regular check-up and was completely oblivious to the events, which would soon change my life.
During my sonogram, I began to feel that something must be wrong. At first I tried to shake it off as the usual pregnancy jitters but I could not help but notice that the technicians face grew pale and very serious. She called for the doctor to come in and examine the screen herself. The doctor's face also grew worried as she turned to me and said; "Mrs. Pecher, it looks like your baby has a chromosomal deformity for which there is no cure and always leads to death within moments to a few months of birth."
It seemed as though it was surreal..."This could not be happening to me!" As my heart skipped a beat, I could only think..."Dear God, please be with me now." I then turned to the doctor and I asked the doctor if she was absolutely certain and she said the only other option was that the baby had Down's Syndrome.
"Please God! I'll take option two," was my next thought. In the ensuing months, I cried, I prayed, and often I would lay my hands on my tummy because I knew it may be the closest to ever holding my child that I would come. Throughout the month's that followed I stormed heaven asking for a miracle. I knew in my heart that I would accept God's Will and trust him to mend my heart if in the end it must be broken. Nevertheless, I went to daily mass and prayed to Our Lady. As I sat in meditation, thinking of the 30% chance they gave my baby to live,I asked Our Lady to place my baby in her arms and in her mantle. I asked her to be my baby's mommy and hold him as she did her own son Our Lord. As I closed my eyes, I imagined her cradling my unborn son. " May the Will of your Son be done. "
On my last routine visit, when I was 5 and a half months pregnant, the doctor again turned pale with concern. She said that my baby was loosing oxygen and that if I went home, he would surely die. I needed to be hospitalized and my baby had tp be monitored closely. I could not help but think that if I had not come in on this very day, the baby would have died. I was admitted to the hospital and placed on oxygen and bed rest to reverse the lack of oxygen flow to the placenta. I praised God that we had found this problem in time and especially Saint Joseph. For it was on a Wednesday., which is a day dedicated to Saint Joseph, that this occurred. My husband's name is Joseph, and we had met and also married at Saint Joseph's church. I was baptized in St. Joseph's church and St. Joseph is the patron saint of our family. He had been my intercessor throughout the difficult days of this pregnancy.
A week later the young resident came in to inform me that they would have to take Joey by "CO" Section immediately, as he was not getting enough oxygen to survive. He was amazed that Joey survived even one more week, but he explained that everyday he had gained was important and the steroids would help him.
As I lay on the operating table, I looked up to heaven hoping my last prayerful thought would draw God's pity upon us. As my husband, Joe caressed my forehead, I somehow knew that God himself was comforting me too. Comforting a sorrowful mother and holding my child in his loving arms. Then I heard the most wonderful sound a mother can ever hear. The sound of a new born baby crying. "He is alive! I can hear him!" This was a joyful sound since they had told us that his crying increased his odds of survival.
"Does he have a chromosomal disorder doctor?"...I asked. I needed to know but did not want to find out. My heart was in my mouth. And then I heard the sound of his voice, as he spoke with great joy..."No, Mrs. Pecher. he does not have chromosomal disorder at all. He had actually suffered from a dysfunctional placenta and the doctor felt he had a 70% chance of survival.
There were so many doctors around, I could not see my Joey nor could I hold him. His cry was to suffice and keep me full of joy. My little man was alive and he had already beaten the odds. Though small in stature he was a human ~ fully alive. He weighed 19oz. and was
12 inches long.
Our beautiful baby boy was going to have a long battle to survive, but he was a little miracle already, thanks to the countless prayers from friends and caring people.
Thank you God, Our Blessed Mother Mary and beloved Saint Joseph, that I may be able to see my son grow and gaze into the face of my miracle boy, because of your love and mercy. |
