An 11th-Hour Miracle

The doctor rushed into the room yelling, “Wait!” to the hospital staff that were getting me prepared to go to the operating room.

Thank God because we needed a miracle asap and it had not happened…. yet.

My husband, Arthur, and I dated a little over two years and were married on June 21, 1980. After a very large wedding and beautiful Hawaiian honeymoon, we returned home and began life as Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.

After a few short months, we found out that I was pregnant with our first child. In those days, it was common to wait until the baby was born before learning the baby’s sex. Our first child was a boy, Jonathan, who was born the following year in July. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned. The monitor showed that Jonathan was in trouble in my womb. The monitor showed that my contractions were very big and looked like tall mountain peaks on the screen. It indicated that I should have either been screaming in pain or scratching out someone’s eyeballs, and yet I felt little to no pain. Each time they saw a contraction on the monitor, Jonathan would stop breathing. The doctors decided I needed an emergency Caesarean section or C-section as it is commonly called. They whisked me off to the operating room and anesthetized me.

Arthur went through an array of emotions, ranging from disappointment that a C-section was required to a sense of sadness that he would miss seeing the birth of his firstborn child up close due to it being an emergency. Instead, he was taken upstairs to a very large room where he was able to view the entire operation through a big glass window. It reminded him of what he had seen countless times on classic television shows, like Dr. Kildare, from the 60’s.

The surgery went well. We were now the proud parents of a beautiful bouncing baby boy!

A few months after Jonathan’s arrival, I found out I was pregnant again and would be due late August 1982. In those days, when a mom had one C-section, the tendency was to follow that same pattern for any subsequent births. Once again, we would not know our baby’s sex until we were in the operating room. Our doctor set a date for the surgery, and as the time drew near, we couldn’t wait to get to the hospital to see what our little “surprise package” would be. We were blessed again with another boy, Jeremy who, thankfully, came on the scene without any complications.

Although Jonathan and Jeremy were just 14 months apart, having them so close together was wonderful. Not only that, but they were also very well-mannered which was a true blessing. They kept each other company, they played together and overall loved being in each other’s company, which allowed me to get a so much done around the house. An added plus was having our parents close by to assist us wherever and whenever we needed. Arthur’s parents lived just a few houses down the street and although my mom lived a little further, she came by all the time, often picking them up to stay with her for a few days.

In the summer of 1983, we learned that we were expecting our “third” child. We had already been blessed with two beautiful boys and were hoping to have a girl. You see, there had not been a girl born on my side of the family in 15 years and on Arthur’s side, 21 years. So, we were anxiously hoping for a girl this time.

Shortly after finding out the news that we were expecting again, Arthur found a new job working for a small company. It seemed to be a good fit with great benefits. As he sat down with his boss to go over this information, he shared with her that his wife was pregnant and wanted information on the health insurance plan. She informed him that none of my pregnancy costs would be covered because it was a “pre-existing condition.” We were crushed; having had two C-Sections before, we knew the cost would be around $5,000, which was a lot of money for back then—money we didn’t have. 

Arthur asked about the possibility of making his insurance retroactive. His boss agreed to work on it by first talking to the owner, who happened to be her dad, to see what could be done. But she offered no promises. She went to work on our behalf; it was August 1983, and the clock was ticking. 

Since Arthur and I were and still are people of faith, we knew we had no choice but to pray and trust God. Thankfully, we had developed the habit of praying when we started dating in 1977. We continued this practice even after becoming engaged, so we knew firsthand the power of prayer. However, this would be the biggest test of our young married life. We both had great examples that lived the life of faith before us, our parents; they had paved the way. Would we pass the test or buckle under the pressure?

We decided to meet with our pastor for added prayer reinforcement. We asked him to pray with and for us; we needed insurance coverage…. sooner rather than later.

We made one more visit to our regular doctor until we could figure out what to do. His daughter, who was also a doctor, informed us that she thought she heard two heartbeats; however, she wanted to have her dad to also check, to get sort of a second opinion. Her dad, a very seasoned and well-known local obstetrician said, “My daughter thinks you all are having twins but there is only one baby.” He explained to us that sometimes the placenta will have a heartbeat as well; he had no doubt that was the case with me. Meanwhile, his daughter stood quietly against the wall looking a little bewildered. If I could interpret her thoughts, I believe she had to be thinking, “But Daddy, I know what I heard,” but she never questioned her dad’s findings.

That would be our last visit to our doctor who was one of the best in his field. We could no longer continue to pay out of pocket for my care, so we did not go back to a doctor again until I was about four months along. This time we went to a different doctor who also thought he heard two heartbeats. His explanation? They are beating at the same pace, so there is only one baby. In the meantime, I was still working full time and very active at church, but I was starting to feel more tired than normal. Just dusting a table tired me out. Something was definitely different that my first two pregnancies.

Several months passed with no word from Arthur’s boss; therefore, no ultrasound, no regular doctor’s care because no insurance.

One day I began to experience pains while at home, by this time I was already in my second trimester. My mom happened to be there helping me around the house. She took one look at my face and immediately knew that I was in labor and drove me to the hospital. I informed them that two other doctors had heard two heartbeats. As with the other two doctors, they also checked with their stethoscope and said, “No, there’s just one baby,” but they decided to do an ultrasound just to make sure.

After the ultrasound, they told me that they saw two thoraxes! In the human anatomy, the thorax is between the neck and the abdomen. We were having twins! Wow! When I told them the name of the doctor that had misdiagnosed me, they laughed and couldn’t believe it. Why? Because “Daddy” was one of the top doctors at this large hospital and in this very big city; the fact that Dr. “Smith” had gotten it wrong was unimaginable.

I now had no choice; pre-natal care could no longer be on the back burner; it was a must. Someone suggested that I go to a clinic. A clinic?! Are you kidding me?! I was devastated. I honestly thought going to a clinic would be a horrible experience; a nightmare. I wanted to be under a private doctor’s care. In tears, I talked to my mom who had worked around doctors and nurses for most of her life. She assured me that I would receive excellent care by excellent doctors. Mom was right (nothing like a mother’s assurance that everything is going to be alright). So, I began going to one of the clinics in the area and God blessed us with the best doctor we could have ever asked for. She was an excellent doctor that we absolutely loved with her bright red hair, bubbly personality and friendly bed-side manner. She took GREAT care of me!

On January 31, 1984, a very serious and traumatic family situation occurred that caused me to go into labor. Once again, I was taken to the hospital, still no insurance. If they decided to give me a C-Section at that time, Arthur and I would have had to foot the bill. Even if a payment plan were to be set up, it would take years before the bill would have been paid off. We knew the cost would be somewhere around $10,000, because now there were two babies! And yet they were preparing me for surgery. Lord, we need a miracle!

The nurses prepped me, gave me an IV and brought in the stretcher to take me down to the operating room. I literally had one leg on the stretcher and my other leg on the hospital bed and was just preparing to slide over, when suddenly my doctor came rushing into the room. “Wait, wait!” she says, “Mrs. Johnson, we want to make sure that the babies are mature enough before we take them!” By this time, I was so tired and my stomach so big that it was an “oh no” moment for me, but I had come to the realization that the delays, cancellations, even postponements were often God’s divine timing. Plus, her bringing everything to a halt meant we had more time to allow God to work on our behalf…. Come on, God!

My doctor looked at her calendar to select a future date when she felt it might be safe for her to deliver the babies. After perusing the calendar for a few seconds, she asked, “How about February 14?” I smiled and told her that date was fine. Why did I smile? Because it’s my birthday! I don’t think she was aware that it was my birthday nor that it was Valentine’s Day. 

It was exactly two weeks before the big day. But first, my doctor asked that I come to the hospital on February 13 for an amniocentesis, a test that would let her know if the babies were fully developed and healthy enough for her to perform the surgery.

God, we need a miracle!

On Monday, February 6, 1984, exactly one week before the amniocentesis, my husband was informed that the insurance had been made retroactive!! Our prayers had been answered! We had received an 11^th-hour miracle of Biblical proportions. Why of Biblical proportions? Because only God could do this and only God could time it so precisely. Oh Happy Day!

The following Monday, February 13, 1984, I went to get the amniocentesis. The results let them know the babies were healthy enough to be delivered. The next day, Valentine’s Day and my birthday, I received the best birthday gifts ever. We had become the proud parents of two beautiful twin girls! Japhia Janae weighing 6 lbs., 7 oz.; Jennifer Janel who weighed 5 lbs., 12 oz. We were beyond excited! Our family was now complete.

After a few weeks we received the hospital bill in the mail. The total cost of my seven-day hospital stay, anesthesiologist, surgery, and all the other costs was more than $11,000! How much did we owe? Zero, zilch, nada…. All because of an 11^th-hour miracle!

Since that situation, our faith has continued to increase even more. In Matthew 19:26, Jesus said to His disciples, ”With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.” We know that He is the God of the impossible and that He CAN and WILL do anything. All we have to do is trust and believe…..a miracle you will receive!