When I read in 2 Samuel 12:18 that David and Bathsheba’s first son died on the seventh day, my heart sank. Our first child, Brock, died on the seventh day after heart surgery when he was six months old. After his death, I didn’t quickly return to worship the Lord like David did. I went instead into the slimy pit, into the mud and the mire, for quite some time.
Fast forward to two years later: Jay and I were delighted to be expecting a baby girl. Because of her brother’s heart defect, doctors wanted us to do additional detailed fetal ultrasounds to be sure that all was well with her heart. Midway through the pregnancy, we were devastated to find that our baby had hypoplastic heart—a diagnosis far worse than Brock’s heart defect. Jay and I got second opinions with fetal cardiologists in Boston and Atlanta. They all confirmed our nightmare. We were facing either a heart transplant at birth or three operations before our daughter reached 18 months of age.
During this difficult season, our Sunday School class wrapped us in prayers every step of the way, throughout the pregnancy and all of the stressful doctor’s appointments. The ministers at our church held a healing service for our daughter as well. We flew to Michigan for her birth, so that her first operation would be done by the best surgeon in the country for this type of heart defect. Another ultrasound was done on her heart shortly after we arrived. A few hours after delivery, the cardiologist walked in our room smiling and said, “Her heart is perfectly normal.” We experienced a miracle directly from God’s hands. At that point, we knew our lives would never be the same again. We brought Neale home when she was just five days old.
At the core, that is why Jay and I have been involved in ministry with the church for the past 20+ years. God delivered us out of the slimy pit and gave us a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. You might get a glimpse of Neale on Sundays. She is a young adult who works in Atlanta and attends Peachtree. Thanks be to God!