I never thought very much about ever having to face the loss of one of my children.  But I was facing that possibility when my fourth child was born prematurely, weighing 4 pounds and 5 1\2 ounces.

When he was twelve days old he developed a jaundice condition.  We rushed Charlie to the University Hospital in Little Rock.

They explained that Charlie would be under treatment and we wouldn't be able to see him until he was discharged.  We were also told that parents weren't allowed in the nursery so we might as well go home and be with the other children. Reluctantly we went home.

The next morning we received word Charlie was critical.  (Just a 10 % chance.)

I was married to a man who had not fathered children of his own but he had been a daddy to four step children and now was a daddy to my three teenagers.

I really ached for him because I had brought him this far into fatherhood and now he'd possibly be facing the devastation of loosing his only natural son.

During our trip to Little Rock we talked and reminisced about the pleasure of the pregnancy. (Feeling him move and kick like a little mule.)  We remembered the anticipation of a baby on the way. We talked about Charlie's birth and the few days we'd had him with us.

I started praising God for the blessing of having had Charlie those few days. I told God that He gave up His only Son to die on a Cross for me, so if He wanted to take my son I'd not feel sorry for myself. I told God I wouldn't even ask, "Why my baby?"

It was a long trip to Little Rock that day, not knowing if our son was dead or alive.

When we arrived the doctor met us at the nursery door. In morbid silence he escorted us to a room. We scrubbed, put on cap and gown, and mask, then he led us past several babies.

We knew parents weren't normally allowed in the nursery so we expected to be going in to see our baby take his last breath.

The doctor came to our baby, then turned around and said, "When I made the phone call your baby had only a 10% chance of making it. But while waiting for lab tests, without any transfusions, your baby had a miraculous turn for the better. Now he has a 65% chance of making it."

A few hours later Charlie's chances were up to 95%.

I had given my sick baby to God. God gave back a well baby to me. In five days he was home from the hospital. Praise the Lord!

Almost six years later I became pregnant. I was very happy and excited.

At my age there could be defects.  Therefore,  a few people strongly suggested abortion. I said, "I wouldn't get an abortion if my life depended on it. Besides, I have better odds of having a healthy baby than most twenty-year-olds because I'm in good health. I quit smoking. I've never been intoxicated and never taken drugs. I've never even had any major surgeries requiring general anesthetic. Besides, I'll be content to take what God chooses to send to me."

At age 42, I gave birth to another premature baby. She was born at home and weighed 4 pounds and 14 ounces. She had no defects of any kind. Praise God!