It all began forty-five years ago today.  We were traveling around the nation, serving on an evangelistic team.  I was seven and a half months into a problem pregnancy.  Just thirteen months before we had lost our first baby.  The doctors never figured out why.  Jim had taken me to live with his parents so I could be near my doctor.  He went back to the team, with the promise that he would join me for the final wait.  Saying good-bye was hard.  In twenty-two months of marriage we had never been apart.  But we knew it was the right thing to do.  We wanted this baby more than life itself and we were willing to make any sacrifice.  The following morning I woke up in labor.  Jim was notified to come right back, and then Mom rushed me to the hospital.  Not long after Jim joined me, I was taken into the delivery room.  My favorite husband was allowed to be with me.  It was a real new thing to let Dads in, and my hospital was on the leading edge of the newest and latest.  Not only did Jim not faint like Dad's were supposed to, he was utterly fascinated by the whole procedure, and a great help to me.  Before we knew it, our baby had arrived!  A boy!  We were so in awe of God Who chose to bless us so enormously. 

My precious baby was held up by his feet for me to see.  I caught a brief glimpse and then they whisked him away.  He went by ambulance to another hospital.  They gave him a 50/50 chance to live.  The first 24 hours were critical.  And thus began some of the longest days of our lives.  Our baby was so premature.  His lungs weren't fully developed.  He was a weak sucker so he could not nurse.  They fed him through a tube.  They ran a bazillion tests on him.  He was in an incubator.  Then he turned jaundice.  They taped cotton balls over his eyes and put him  under the lights.  He had tubes running all over the place.  When I finally got to see him, long about day three, they wouldn't let me touch him.  I sat in a chair by his incubator and prayed for my baby.  We prayed night and day.  Many others joined us in praying.  Little by little our baby turned a corner.  He was going to live.  But he had to stay in the hospital.  Our faith grew by leaps and bounds as we clung to the God of the Impossible.

Then one glorious day the hospital phoned to say we could take our baby home in the morning.  I hardly slept that night, I was so excited.  It was his one month birthday.  He was so tiny.  He was swimming in new born clothing.  Preemie clothing had not been invented yet.  He needed to be fed every two hours around the clock.  But he was there, and he was alive, and he was ours.  Our joy knew no bounds.

From time to time over the next number of years, one friend or another would call to say her friend had just delivered a premature baby and it was touch and go.  Would I be willing to go with her  and share my story in order to give the new mom some hope.  On those occasions I would drag my first born with me.  My story always helped, but the greatest blessing was for her to see an example of what her baby might look like in X number of years.

Happy 45th Favorite Oldest Son!  May God continue to use you for His honor and glory for many more years to come.