Dear God, it’s me again, Denise RN. I know that I just asked for a miracle last week, for that VBAC, but I could really use your help again. The mom in 407 is only 19 weeks pregnant and her water broke. She’s laying flat in bed, with her head a foot lower than her feet, trying to keep her baby inside. Give her strength Lord. This baby will never make it. Grant her the peace to accept that her baby will not go home with her. Heal her heart so it will be open to another baby someday.
Dear God, it’s me again. It has been a week and 407, I mean Candace, is still pregnant. She has finished her IV antibiotic course and is showing zero signs of infection. I saw her smiling and talking to her belly last night. She has done everything we instruct. I see her hope growing. Why are you allowing her this hope? That baby won’t make it 4 more weeks.
Dear God, it’s me again. I’m amazed at Candace’s strength. She is tired of lying in bed, but she never complains. She would sit on a pin if I told her it would help. 21 weeks, everyone is on the countdown now. Hope is spilling out onto the unit. Why are you letting this hope continue to spread? That baby won’t make it 3 more weeks.
Dear God, it’s me again. 22 weeks! Are you kidding me? Candace is so tired, but full of joy. Thank you for this miracle. We are almost there. The baby is growing and mom still has no signs of infection. This is really going to happen, isn’t it? Since you are in such a gracious mood, can I get a chance to pee before noon?
Dear God, yeah it’s me again. Help me to not fall asleep driving this car. Today was awful. Candace went into labor. I tried to stop it, but the baby came anyway. He was so small and fragile. I laid him on her chest and they cuddled together while he died. She cried when I told her that he was gone. Why, why, why? Why didn’t you take that baby last month? Why couldn’t she keep her baby? Why did you let her have hope for a month and then leave her childless in the end? Give her strength Lord, she is in pain.
Father in heaven, I became a mother today. Thank you for this gift. My little boy was only with me a short time. I wish he could’ve stayed with me. You must have needed him more. When my water broke so early I thought I would never meet him, but he was so strong. Every day I talked to him. I told him how much I loved him. I told him his name is William, just like my dad. I told him about all the things we would do when he was older, and the places we would go together. I prayed every minute for his safe birth. I cherished every little kick and movement this last month. Thank you for those moments. Oh and please bless my nurse, you know which one. The one that pretends she’s not too busy to massage my achy back. The one who smiled encouragingly, while she checked Will’s heart tones each day. The one who helped me hold him when he was born. The one who pointed out all his little miracles, from his tiny toes, to how his nose turns up just like mine. The one who told me how much she loved the name I picked out, while she pretended that she hadn’t been crying. Bless her with peace. Bless her with strength. Bless her with the wisdom to understand she can’t save every baby.
Thank you, God, for my nurse.