I am pleased to bring you a heart warming and uplifting story of a brave young woman who, through faith, hope, love and prayer has experienced a miracle in her life.

Kate's Miracle



Vermont, USA

In October of 1971, at the age of 23, I became pregnant with my second child. It was a joyous occasion. I received standard prenatal care. I was married and just starting work as a secondary special education teacher. The child was planned and conceived in love.

In the fourth month I began realizing something might be wrong. The doctor could not hear a heartbeat and I had felt no movement, no little kicking feelings.

In the fifth month (February) I went to a high risk specialist in obstetrics and had my first amniocentesis. This test showed "no signs of life."
In the months following, March, April and May, I had a total of four more amniocentesis tests.
Everyone showed the same negative results. I had also received ultra sound tests along with the amniocentesis procedures. Each one showed a "mass" but none showed anything identifiable as a child or a normal fetus.

Of course, I feared the worst. I was asked to make a decision about "disposal" in May. The day the doctor sat me down and told me I should decide what I wanted to do with "it" was one of the hardest days of my life.
I was given 3 choices, have the hospital dispose of it, donate it to research, or have it baptized and buried. I made my decision on May 15, my mother's birthday. I chose baptism and burial, telling the minister my choices of names for a boy or a girl, and asking that he simply say a prayer for "it" if it were not recognizable.

My religious convictions played a very important role in deciding to carry my baby. I never lost my faith in God, and prayed several times a day to help me keep my hope and strength. I had put up a poster that was popular at the time. This was a picture of a funny looking little toadstool person that said, "God doesn't make junk." I kept reminding myself that whatever was inside me couldn't be "junk."

I really didn't understand much about what was happening to me. I read everything I could find about my condition, but found little reassurance. There were moments I envisioned something horrible, perhaps deformed. The only times I felt any true sense of security were those times I felt my Heavenly Father with me. His "presence" gave me reassurance, and somehow I knew everything would be all right. My own father, whom I loved dearly, had died in 1967. He was truly my best friend as a child. In many ways, he had been my mentor and my strength, while mother was an alcoholic abuser. I was very frightened, and in fear and panic. I begged for tranquilizers, even though I knew I couldn't take anything that might further endanger the baby.

On July 10, 1972, I went into labor. I had a medical team waiting to do an exchange of blood on the child, since I was also Rh negative. I had my minister at the door, and had told him, "If it's a girl, her name will be Patricia; if it's a boy, Robert Drew. If you can't tell which gender the child is, just say a prayer for it and bury it with my Father. You know, I still get teary just writing these words. My husband was in the waiting room and my mother was with the funeral director. We had chosen the same person who handled my fathers funeral arrangements.

I remember being on a fetal monitor, and even at the final hour, it not showing any heartbeat. Nobody thought this would be a viable child. But, I had become a woman with an attitude, a woman with the strength that only a mother possesses. I had made one promise to my baby, that it would come into this world seeing a mother's smile. All through labor, I smiled. I would not cry, moan or scream. I was determined to use no medication and to smile. Sometimes it was probably a pretty ugly facsimile of a smile, but I kept on grinning.

At 9:55 p.m. my daughter was born. She was 8 lb. 6 oz., very healthy,strong, and perfectly formed! She was baptized immediately in the delivery room, and later in church at age 2.

After the birth I carried my daughter in my arms, wrapped in a receiving blanket, out of the delivery room. No stretchers for me!

My miracle baby is now a young woman, and has brought me joy beyond anything I could have hoped for. This just goes to prove that God does know a lot more than medical science can ever hope to understand, and that He does answer prayers.

If I can tell people one thing, it's to never, never give up hope. The ways of God and the universe may be unfathomable, but miracles can and do happen. Even when all the scientific evidence (and common sense) say it is impossible. Thank you ever so much for helping me share my story. This miracle will always be very special to me, and I pray it will be very special to others as well.

Love and blessings,
Kate
"Patty, The Miracle Baby"

Patty Today


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