One Angel Can Make a Difference

Forgive me as I indulge a bit in my memories on this Memorial Day weekend; they are flooding my mind. In addition to my four pregnancy losses and the demise of my 20 yr. old, three of the four births of my children were also encumbered with difficulties.

My eldest was born with the chord wrapped around his throat twice, in addition to being ‘sunny-side up’. He had gone into distress and was beginning to choke to death during the birthing process. Though I had chosen natural child birth for all of my children, at the very last minute in the delivery room they gave me a spinal because they were frantically attempting to pull him out ASAP.  I had checked into the hospital that night by midnight, and though we had brought Yahtzee to bide the time, I announced to my husband that our son would be born in three hours. After that, I was ‘out of it’. Though I was given no drugs, I have no memory of those three hours. I was later told, however, that at some point the now ex was asked to leave the room because of how I was screaming at him :). The first 3 months of this pregnancy, I had to be bedridden because every time I stood, I gushed with blood. At one point, they believed I had yet another pregnancy loss because I had awoken one morning to a mattress soaked in blood. However, this one managed to survive and at 3:07AM, he announced himself to the world.

The second son, the one who passed on at age 20, was my perfect birth. We laughed and joked between contractions and all went so wonderfully. At his entrance to the world, they placed him immediately into a pool of warm water which was the new ‘fad’ in those days. I sometimes wonder if that is what made him a lover of swimming. At a mere five months, I would take him to classes at the local YMCA in which I learned to pass my child under water like a football and lo and behold, he would swim to the edge of the pool like a polliwog.

With my third live birth, things were much more traumatic. Before the doctor arrived, a nurse who I had actually been friends with in my young teens, was attending to things. For whatever reason, she decided to place me on an artificial hormone to hurry along the birthing process called: ‘PIT’, which is an abbreviation for Pitocin. I have for 36 years warned others of the dangers in this. As a result of this drug, something ruptured inside of me. Once again, I was gushing blood. I ‘passed out’. They thought they had lost me and while I was unconscious, they had marked me up for an emergency C-Section. They wanted to at least try and save my son. Eventually, I ‘came to’ to a room of people all screaming at me and calling out my name. Once the wonderful doctor I had been blessed with saw me open my eyes (I still recall the shocked look on his face), he immediately had me rushed to the delivery room and yanked out my son with forceps at only 9 centimeters. They then rushed my son to the side because he was not breathing and they had to pump out all the blood that had entered into his lungs. Eventually, he also announced himself to this world.

With all my sons, the actual birthing took only five-ten minutes. This changed, however, with my caboose…my daughter. Though the Lord had shown me I would one day have her, and because of it I wrote her name in the cement along with my sons’ names ten years before she was born…I think I was hesitant to bring her into the world in which my marriage was failing. The birthing process of pushing, etc., took forty-five minutes. My doctor, the same wonderful man that delivered all four of my children and was also at my side through two of my pregnancy losses, was getting quite frustrated. He actually angrily started to yell at me which he had never done before. The ex had coached me through the other three deliveries reminding me to ‘breathe’, etc. However, during this birthing he just sat there like a lump on a log saying and doing nothing.

Then a wonderful little old lady appeared in the room. She came alongside of me and very softly and gently started whispering into my ear and had me breathing and pushing. Within minutes, my girl also announced herself almost angrily as if to say: “It’s about time, Mom”. LOL! I later learned that this little old lady was a volunteer at that hospital and that her name was: Sarah. I wrote a thank you letter to the hospital expressing my heartfelt gratitude to this woman a few weeks after the birth. To me, Sarah, will always be an angel Heaven-sent.

Scripture says:

Hebrews 13: (KJV)

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Yes, there are angels amongst us. God says so.


Image result for angel photo

(((HUGS)))  Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at: Xulon PressAmazon, Barnes & Noble and DeeperShopping. Additional international retailers:,jude-gibbs-9781498496728  Also, a Contributor on ‘The Mighty’:

Please help spread the Word. TY! (((HUGS)))


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