I never tire of telling the following story. It shines a light on God’s unlimited vision, His active interest in, and His power over, the events of our lives. (I’ve changed the actual birth-related dates and physician name, keeping the calendar sequence intact).

I was in my early 20’s when my husband and I decided to leave our little home town, along with everything familiar, and move to a much larger city 100 miles away to make an employment change. Shortly before leaving we learned I was pregnant with our second child. This was a problem. Not because we didn’t want another child, but because the move left us without a doctor. Our home town physician was the only doctor we had ever known. Thankfully, though, he had a reference for us . . . a comrade of his, Dr. Brandon, who practiced at a large medical center in our new city. He recommended him highly and would get me set up as a new patient. This was a comfort for sure. But I was still reluctant about the change at such an important time. With little control in the matter, however, about a week after our move, I made an appointment to meet my new doctor. To my delight he was wonderful. Intelligent. Confident. Skilled. Thorough. Kind. Problem solved. What a relief. 

Things were going well for us in our new location. We were settled into a nice place within a block of a beautiful lake, 15 minutes from groceries and other conveniences, and even closer to the medical center. My husband’s new job was working out and we were enjoying many things about the big change.

In a few months, however, we received some surprising news. Dr. Brandon saw, likely to occur, a complication at the birth of our baby. He was in position to be a footling breech. For a baby to be born feet first is risky at least, presenting an increased risk of brain damage. Dr. Brandon attempted to reposition the baby without success. There was a possibility the baby would reposition on his own but he gave no impression he was counting on it. A Cesarean delivery would likely be necessary.

Yes, for sure, the last weeks of this pregnancy would require close scrutiny. But I wasn’t worried. I had Dr. Brandon. And I believed God had given me this good doctor for this particular reason . . . that the move, the new area, the timing, everything, had been determined by God’s perfectly-planned will for us. Our home-town doctor wouldn’t have been prepared for a complicated birth nor would our small local hospital. God had certainly provided. Appointments would now be frequent. Dr. Brandon would watch closely, likely deliver our baby Cesarean, and any emergency equipment and/or specialized assistance required would be within arm’s reach. As expected, at my next appointment, our baby was still just standing in place. He hadn’t budged a bit. BUT something unexpected did happen that day. Dr. Brandon informed me he would be, of all things . . . GONE!, yes, GONE . . . on vacation . . . during the days surrounding my due date, June 3rd. He would introduce me to another doctor!!!

I went home. I went into my bedroom. I closed the door. And I got down on my knees. “O God,” I said, “Please have Dr. Brandon be there when I have my baby. O God, help me.” Then I stood up . . . but with a calmness . . . a sense in my heart that somehow . . . God would do something.

At my next appointment Dr. Brandon’s partner, the physician whom he expected would do the delivery, introduced himself. My first impression was good. But somehow that seemed irrelevant. My introduction to him, for lack of a better way to describe it, just didn’t seem to fit. I couldn’t see the days ahead but I could understand what the Psalm writer meant when he said, “In the morning I will order my prayer to you and (then I will) eagerly watch (Psalms 5:3).”

Late in the afternoon of May 19 I stood at the refrigerator planning dinner and felt a small twinge in my abdomen. Then another. And another. Still small. But the twinges continued. A couple of hours passed. My husband arrived. The twinges continued. They were all about the same. Nothing painful was going on, just these twinges. But of course we had to get it checked out. We drove to the hospital and were assigned a room. Dr. Brandon was called. He came in to check me. Then he left for a couple of hours. Then he returned. He left again . . . and returned. “You’re in labor,” he said. “This isn’t going to stop. And your baby is still in the footling position. We have to do a Cesarean delivery . . . now.”

Assistance was called, the operating room was made ready, and within a short time our tiny baby boy was born . . . about three weeks premature, evidenced by his partially grown fingernails, one of the last things to develop. But every organ was perfect. His lungs, his heart, his brain. All in good health. He was small. But healthy. It was an exciting time.

Dr. Brandon had been up most of the night with me. He checked in on us one more time, confirmed all was well, and said good-bye. Then . . . just at the break of dawn . . . he left to make final preparations for his trip out of town. His vacation started that very day, the morning of May 20 . . . shortly after delivering our baby son! Then, a few weeks later a welcome set of circumstances relocated us again . . . back to our home town!

Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me  (Psalms 50:15).