Leaving Room for Miracles

Five and a half years ago, my wife and I went in for a 20 week ultrasound for our fourth child and found out we were going to have another son. We also found out this wasn’t a normal pregnancy. The ultrasound showed cysts on our child’s brain, calcification in his heart and intestines, nerve issues keeping some of his muscles in spasm and his fists clenched, and other markers for severe genetic disorders. We went in a few weeks later for a high definition ultrasound and they not only confirmed everything the first sonogram showed, but found others, including malformations of his heart and underdeveloped lungs. Our son was diagnosed with trisomy 18, a devastating chromosomal disorder that was essentially a death sentence. We were told our child may not survive the pregnancy and would never see his first birthday.

We were devastated and overwhelmed. The next 20 weeks were some of the longest of my life as I tried to prepare myself for what we would be walking through together as a family. We had several more sonograms scheduled so the doctors could follow the development of problems my little boy faced. However, one by one, at each subsequent sonogram, those markers disappeared. The cysts on the brain no longer showed up. The echogenic foci (calcification and mineral deposits in his heart and intestines) vanished. His muscle spasms faded and his hands and feet relaxed. After a while, not a single marker remained. The doctors, not wanting us to get our hopes up prematurely, reminded us that just because they could no longer see the abnormalities didn’t mean he didn’t carry the genetic death sentence. However, my wife and I were convinced we were witnessing a miracle.

On November 7^th, 2013, little Benaiah was born. The issues with his lungs were supposed to make his breathing weak and his cries faint. As he was being delivered, he let out what was more like a war cry than the typical weak whimpers of a newborn. The underdeveloped heart he was expected to have was supposed to stunt his growth. He came out weighing over nine and a half pounds and just under two feet long. And last week, we celebrated his fifth birthday – five more than he was ever expected to have. He is a sweet, wonderful, and healthy little boy. Miracles still happen.

In a world driven by technology and surrounded by advances in science, we have a tendency to want everything proven and explained to us. We don’t leave much room for the unexplained and that which can’t be scientifically documented. Don’t let yourself get so busy or so jaded that you miss the miracles. They may not be as obvious as my son’s, but they are still out there.

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