I had an uneasy feeling about

the whole thing that hit home just after I hung up the telephone. I just

couldn't put my finger on it.

Dawn Dickerson had just called

me to tell me that she was on the way to Southern Regional Hospital for

the birth of her first child. Her husband, Chuck, would be with her, of

course, and I elicited a promise that she or Chuck would call me whenever

she had dilated five centimeters.

During the last four and a

half years, I have made it a practice to be at the hospital, whenever

possible, at the birth of a baby. I'm not in the delivery room, of course,

but am outside in the waiting room so that, whenever the new child comes

into the world, I can step in and bless the child and offer the first

prayer. I have missed very few births during this time.

Normally, I head to the hospital

at five centimeters, which is usually considered the "halfway point,"

since 10 centimeters is full dilation and the baby has arrived.

I expected to receive the call

sometime during the night and, even so, slept unusually fitfully, waking

every half-hour or so to pray for Dawn and the baby. The Dickersons weren't

supposed to be able to conceive this child so, from the beginning, we

considered the baby in Dawn's body a "miracle child." Surely,

my uneasy feeling would go away.

I called the hospital early

in the morning only to find that very little dilation had taken place

and a birth did not appear imminent, even though there were strong and

regular contractions. Convincing myself that all was well, I continued

my morning routine and kept several appointments.

As the afternoon wore on with

no news of significant progress, I decided to alter my schedule and travel

to the hospital. Before leaving, however, I put out a "prayer alert"

on our church e-mail to pray for the baby and the parents.

Arriving at the hospital around

mid-afternoon, I greeted Dawn, Chuck, her parents, and Joanne Neece, who

was coaching Dawn through the birth process. All appeared well, so I retired

to the waiting room.

Things began to go badly, although

we didn't know just how badly. The hospital staff began a procedure to

deaden the pain of childbirth, but the baby didn't respond and it was

discontinued.

Twice, medication was administered

to induce labor but this too, caused the child distress and was discontinued.

Throughout these processes,

Dawn was simply not dilating. Her water finally broke, but, still, no

dilation. Something was terribly wrong but just what was not evident.

Several times, I called trusted prayer partners to intercede for this

worsening situation.

Finally, late into the night,

the doctor decided to deliver the baby by Cesarean section. The medical

staff was clearly concerned and this tension was picked up by the family

and friends gathered.

At 11:10 p.m., the child was

taken surgically from the womb with the umbilical cord wrapped twice around

her neck and knotted. Every time a contraction had occurred, the cord

had, apparently, tightened.

The midwife said that, in nearly

1,300 births, such a situation would only occur five or six times with

most of them turning out very badly. She said, "God had his hand

on this child tonight." The obstetrician was heard on the videotape

remaking, "This is a miracle baby!"

The troublesome cervix that

refused to dilate likely saved the baby's life. For, if the natural birth

had occurred, it is very probable that the double-looped and knotted cord

would have strangled her and caused her death or brain damage.

My wife, an experienced nurse

and an assistant professor of nursing at a state university, said simply,

"God did not let the cervix dilate." Some might consider that

a miracle.

Sometime after midnight, I

held the child in my arms and, standing in the hallway of Southern Regional,

surrounded by family, friends, and medical staff, I anointed her with

holy oil, gave thanks to God for her safe arrival, and pronounced the

blessing of the church upon her. Indeed, she was a miracle child.

Last Sunday, Rayna Lynn Dickerson,

an alert, healthy, and beautiful girl, received the Sacrament of Holy

Baptism surrounded by family and friends. Someone said there wasn't a

dry eye in the house. I wouldn't know about that. I couldn't see for the

tears.

[Father David Epps is rector

at Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in Peachtree City. He

may be contacted at [email protected] or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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