I was raised in the church most of my life. At one point I lost my faith in God. I also began to wonder if God was real. If he was real did he dislike me? Why would he allow me to go through all that I was going through? I remember having this conversation with my grandma. She asked me who I thought I was that I shouldn’t suffer, and have to go through things in life. That Jesus suffered and was crucified for things he hadn’t even done. Then she went on to talk about Job. How he was a just and upright man, and God still allowed satan to take away all that he had. She would always finish the conversation with God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. At that point in my life none of what she was saying was helping, and it wasn’t changing how I felt. Either God couldn’t be real or he just hated me, and wasn’t listening to anything I had to say..
I left home and church. I was finally living life on my own terms. No grandmother looking over my shoulders. No more going to church every other night. I was free and I had no one to answer too. I never stayed in one place too long. I was going wherever my feet could take me. I was living life fast, and I wasn’t going to slow down for anyone or anything. Couple years into my fast life I found out I was pregnant. Funny thing about that was that according to my doctors I wasn’t supposed to be able to have children. So imagine my surprise.
A few months into my pregnancy I woke up in so much pain I couldn’t move. My Best friend helped me get dressed and rushed me to the hospital. I had just turned 23 weeks pregnant. The doctor told me I was in active labor and my baby was on his way. I had a choice to make. I could go home and have a miscarriage in the comfort of my home, or I could stay in the hospital and have a miscarriage, but there was nothing he could do for me or my baby. At that moment I knew that I was right. God was real, but he just hated me. So I chose to go home. He said he would get my discharge papers together while I got dressed.
While getting dressed a nurse came in the room and told me to take my clothes off and that I needed to be checked out again. She told me she was also going to help me prepare for delivery. I tried telling her I was going home. She told me I wasn’t. So I got undressed. She gave me two hospital gowns and a blanket. She helped me get ready for labor. Before she walked out the room she told me to call my family. So I picked up my phone and I called my grandmother. I told her everything that was going on with me. She began to pray. For the first time in a long time as she prayed I listened. For some reason I just knew I couldn’t leave the hospital. The tears began to fall. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. When she was done she confirmed what I was already feeling. She told me not to leave the hospital no matter what.
When the doctor came back with my discharge papers and he saw me in the gowns he asked what was going on. I told him his nurse told me I needed to be checked out again. He left out and came back with the nurse. The nurse said she hadn’t talked to me. I explained that wasn’t the nurse I spoke with. They left and came back with another nurse, which was also the wrong nurse. He explained to me those were the only two nurses there. He gave me the discharge paper to sign so I could leave. At this point I told him I would be staying. He again explained to me that there was nothing they could do to save my baby. That when he came that night they wouldn’t be able to help him because it wasn’t considered a viable pregnancy yet.I told him I understood, but something in me told me I needed to stay. So he admitted me. I was moved to labor and delivery. Now we were just waiting for my baby to make his entrance into the world.
That night everything I had been taught about God came rushing back to me. That night I prayed and cried like never before. I remember asking God to spare my baby. Just to let him stay put until he was strong enough to fight on his own. He couldn’t give him to me and just take him back that fast. To give me a chance to raise him and fill him with unconditional love. I promised God that if he gave me this one thing I would change my life. I promised that I would slow down and I would do whatever I needed to to always make sure my son would be ok. Needless to say my son wasn’t born that day. I stayed in the hospital for a month stuck in bed before my son would arrive.
I went back looking for the nurse that helped me that night. No one knows who she is. I’m convinced they think i’m crazy. One thing for sure I definity believe God sent her to me to make sure I stayed where I was. Had I not picked up that phone to talk with my grandmother, she wouldn’t have been able to pray. Nor would she have been able to encourage me to talk to God for myself. That night was the night my faith in God began to come back. If I would’ve left that hospital I don’t believe my son would be here today. I know that with God the impossible is possible.
A Moment in my TRUTH 