This is a letter I read in church last winter during a testimony service:
Our second son was born in of 1976 in central Florida. He was a long time coming as his older brother was almost 11. We were so excited to finally have another son. You see, his older brother came with many medical problems involving several major surgeries and procedures. We did not know if we ever wanted anymore children, but time has a way of healing your memories, too.
So, I had some problems the last three months before he was born, but we never thought that he would be born with a fractured and depressed skull. The doctor wanted to do a C-Section, but he did not have time as the baby started making his appearance —feet first. One arm was also up, so he had a time when he was not breathing. The doctor came out to my husband, shaking his head, and said “it looks bad“. He was taken to baby ICU and put on machines to monitor him. By the next day, he had at least two seizures. It was not known whether the seizures were from depression on the skull, or resulted from the fracture. A neurosurgeon was called and surgery was scheduled for Monday. Our pediatrician called together my husband, his mother and father, our pastor, and a nurse friend went with them. The pediatrician said the situation was very grave. If he lived, he might be a vegetable. Or, if he lived, he might never suck a bottle, he might be paralyzed, he might never crawl or walk or talk. We would not know what part of the brain had been affected until he came to that period in his life. Then, he said that if this did not happen, that he would have some extreme positive effects instead of negative, but there was a very small chance that could happen.
On Monday, there were several friends and church friends who came to the hospital to pray while surgery was going on. This was a ping pong fracture. The process was to drill a hole through the skull and put an instrument in there, pop the depression back out. Surgery went well, and we took him home when he was eight days old. Amazing!! He was to take a very small dose of Phenobarbital every day for one year. This was because they did not want him to have any seizures. They just were not sure what had caused them before the surgery.
He sucked a bottle, moved around like nothing had ever happened to him. We knew God had worked a miracle. As his parents, this reassures our belief and faith in miracles and the healing power of God. Our son is living proof of that fact.
After reading this letter, I let them know that it was actually from my mother and that I was the baby in the letter. It was neat hearing the reaction of the congregation, most of whom had no idea that the letter was actually about me!
Be blessed, and let us realize how blessed we are, constantly and continually.