True Miracle

On April 16, 1977, 1:44 p.m., a child is born. My child, my son. Robert Michael Stange, Jr. is his name. The name was chosen after he was born because I was positive I would have another girl and the name would be Miranda Ranelle. To my surprise, I had a boy. I wasn't disappointed because from day one of conception, it wasn't certain the child would even make it and I was just thankful he was alive. Robby was a twin. I lost his twin 12 weeks into the pregnancy caused by internal hemorrhaging. He escaped from the uterus somehow and got stuck in the fallopian tube. As he grew, there wasn't any room for him to grow anymore so the tube ruptured. During surgery, the doctors saw Robby, still intact in the uterus, but they were certain he wouldn't survive. Well, he did and I carried him to seven months when it was discovered I had toxemia, a blood disorder. I was hospitalized a week before Robby was born and the doctor's weren't sure either one of us were going to make it. My blood pressure would go sky high and the fear was stroke. After a week, the doctor's thought it better to induce labor, for both my sake and my baby's sake, if there was any chance at all of survival. Every contraction would increase Robby's heart rate to a dangerous level, so it was decided to do C-section. I prayed hard that if this child was going to be deformed or mentally challenged because of all the trauma this little child had experienced from the beginning, that God would take him in His arms and take care of him in heaven. During the C-section, the doctors couldn't get Robby out of the uterus, something went wrong, all the concentration was on his survival from that point on. In the meantime, I was waking up, laying on the table, hearing everything that was being said. I was trying to let the doctors know I was waking up. My head felt like it was going to explode from the increase in my blood pressure. After I awoke in recovery, I told the doctor about this. He was sure I was dreaming, but when I told him every word that was said, he was in shock. He said I was moving erratically on the table, but they all thought it was reflex. What is was, really, was I was trying to move my arms and legs to let them know I was waking up. It was quite an experience. Robby weighed in at 3 lbs.13 oz, but he was 17 in. long. The doctor's said the familiar words I heard at 12 weeks, "he may not make it." I prayed, as I did then, that God would spare him, but........if, just IF...... I trusted God, as I did then, that He would do what was best. Well, Robby made it, I made it, even though the doctors all said there was a 1 in 20,000 chance that either of us would. That's right......1 in 20,000. To this day, I believe in the odds. One chance is A chance and I'll take it anytime. Robby was strong, receptive to feeding right away and as the days went on before I took him home, it was certain to the doctors he would make it.


As I have said before, trusting God in all things is the most important part of faith. I truly believed God would do the best thing, and no matter what the outcome would be, I would, with the help of the Holy Spirit, accept it. Robby is absolutely a miracle child and God has a definite purpose for his life. The hardest part, right now, is for Robby to realize what that purpose is. He will, because I pray for that......and I trust God in all things.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS POST