Stories of Faith

The Miracles of a Birth by Cher Rafftery

February 11, 1976 was a typical day in my normal, healthy pregnancy.  I woke up feeling great, went to Bible Study, had lunch with a friend and went home for dinner.

As my husband, Gerry, was leaving to go seven miles into Pelican Rapids to teach Confirmation class, I felt like I needed to ask him when he'd be home.  He was slightly anxious about leaving since my due date had just passed, but I assured him that I was feeling fine.

Soon after he left mild pains began.  Because he would be in class and nobody would be there to answer the phone (pre cell phones), I decided to call  to report in.  He decided he was going to come right home, even though I told him that he could wait until after class.   It wasn't long before I was thankful that he was on his way since things were moving along rapidly.

I called my parents in Rothsay, about 25 miles away, to ask them to meet us in Pelican Rapids to take our 2-year-old daughter, Shannon, and our poodle.  They weren't home but my brother, who didn't even live there, happened to walk in as the phone rang and he agreed to meet us.  We drove into the meeting place at the same time for the quick drop off of Shannon and the dog.

As we were leaving for Fargo, 50 miles away, we saw a policeman in front of the police station and stopped to ask him to radio the highway patrol to let them know that if they saw a speeding yellow Datsun to just let it go.  Near Barnesville we saw a  patrol car stopped along the road, so we pulled over, assuming he was waiting to give us an escort.  (We drove that highway often and rarely saw patrols before or after that date. ) He hadn't received the message, but agreed take me since our Datsun couldn't go fast enough.  Shortly after getting carried into his car, my membranes ruptured!  I asked him to radio the hospital to prepare for  us.  As he did that  he sped up, turned on his patrol lights, and told me that "lots of babies are born in police cars, so don't worry." 

We were greeted outside ER by several medical personnel standing in a line holding trays of medical equipment.  Even though the baby's head was crowning, they decided to take me to the delivery room.  Megan was born immediately, and I can remember looking at them holding a limp, blue, silent baby.  She had aspirated meconium during her rapid descent and needed  to be intubated in order to breathe. 

Soon Gerry arrived to be greeted with the news of the birth of his daughter who was 8 pounds 11 ounces and 22 inches long, and was by then breathing. 

Nurses soon told us that the pediatrician and anesthetist (who did the incubation) were only at the hospital at that time of day because the pediatrician had been called in for a child in ER and the anesthetist had stayed for dinner with a co-worker.  The obstetrician was still in the hospital for a previous delivery.

Later I asked for the baby's Apgar rating. The doctor reported that it was 1 (10 is the best) and that was only because he assumed that her heart was beating.  We were told that we wouldn't know until she was older if she had any delays due to lack of oxygen.  (She didn't and is now working on her doctorate degree.)

There was an ice storm the next day with treacherous roads, so if the ice had arrived a day earlier, we couldn't have made it to the hospital in time for her to receive emergency care.

We are so thankful that God placed all of these people in the right places at the right time, and that the Minnesota winter weather was good.  He knew what we needed without us even asking!