I was 3 years old.
Mommy was going to have a baby. She went to the baby doctor one day. Later, she was crying. The baby doctor said that something was wrong with my baby sister. Mommy said we would just love her EXTRA good. Mommy and Daddy prayed a lot. I “read” our big medicine book and told Mommy I could help with our baby. I could help with her birth and take care of her until she got big like me.
This is my earliest memory.
I was too young to understand then, but later found out my little sister had been diagnosed with Down Syndrome in utero and the physicians offered abortion as an option to my parents. My parents refused to even consider it and were committed to loving this precious, unborn baby.
About a month ago, I was sitting in a church in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I listened as the speaker shared stories of his church’s journey into spiritual gifts – a beautiful journey of praying and believing God could heal. He told two stories that stuck out. A pregnant mother was told her baby would need to have an in utero surgery but she decided against it because of the risk. Meanwhile, her friend prayed. The baby was born healthy. A man heard this testimony and thought his friend’s unborn child who needed extensive heart surgery upon birth, so he began praying for his friend’s child. The baby was born healthy.
I thought back to 16 days before my 4th birthday when Rebecca Danielle entered this world. There are hours upon hours of VHS footage documenting my love for her. I smothered her in kisses from the moment I first saw her. My parents were concerned for her breathing because they couldn’t keep me out of her face. She was the best present ever and I thought she was all mine, and guess what? The baby was born healthy.
As my parents recount this story even today, they talk about the physicians being wrong. They are thankful that their convictions prevented them from even considering abortion. They wonder out loud how many healthy pregnancies are terminated because the physicians are wrong, because tests are wrong, because medicine is wrong.
While sitting in that church service, my heartbeat quickened and my thoughts reeled. What if the physicians weren’t wrong? What if God in His infinite sovereignty heard my parents’ prayers and chose to heal my sister? Tears welled up in my eyes. Could this be true? Could it be this simple? Could it be this glorious? Or is it just wishful thinking? Is it just a good story? I couldn’t focus on the rest of the message because I was so consumed with these thoughts. I asked the Lord to give me confirmation if these thoughts and questions were from Him…
…and in the weeks to come, He did. He gave me dreams and words and peace…such peace that these thoughts were not my own and it was not wishful thinking.
As a science lover and healthcare professional, I know that physicians can be wrong, tests can be wrong and medicine can be wrong. However, I’ve also learned on this journey that God is bigger than medicine. So, I choose to believe that the physicians were not wrong. I choose to believe that the earnest prayers of my parents changed things. I choose to believe that their faith and their willingness were rewarded. I choose to believe the truth that God healed my little sister because it is that simple and it is that glorious.
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Dearest Becca,
As you read this with precious baby Stetson in your arms, know that I love you so. Please know that it is okay if tears are streaming down your face. I’ve cried over this more than you know. God is good, all the time. I love the life that He has given you. I love that He gave me you. I still consider my sisters the best gift of my childhood. If God had chosen not to heal you, you still would have been the best gift. I still love you “EXTRA good,” Seester.
Jenn Dannelley
