“Lieutenant, that baby is dying.” The obstetrician’s condescending voice increased in volume with every sentence. “That baby has less than a five percent chance of being born.
The normally bustling Labor and Delivery unit at the
With shoulders squared—her epaulet designations clearly outranking me; she gave me no opportunity to speak. “You were called up here to talk some sense into her. You shouldn’t be giving her any false hope. Don’t use religion to prolong everyone’s trauma. No one needs to be put through this. That baby will die
Beeping monitors provided the backdrop for her continued diatribe, “You can’t change the reality with prayer.” Her pause gave me an opening.
“Eye-to-eye, I said softly with deliberation, “Doctor, …whether… that baby… lives or dies… is not up to… you …or me. Only God decides who lives and dies. If God wants that baby to live, it will live.”
The details of the story are engaging; the end result amazing.
It taught me with God, nothing is impossible.
