A Treasury of Miracles for Women by Karen Kingsbury Page A

terminate now. This is the standard recommendation for cystic hy groma. If you carry until the fetus dies, you'll have a long, difficult labor. Fluid will have to be removed from each of the sacs around her neck before she will come through the birth canal. It would be far more traumatic to deliver a dead baby than to terminate the pregnancy now, while the fetus is so small.”
    Angie sat up straighter in her chair. “Doctor, you should know something about us.” She stared into her hus band's eyes and saw his love and concern. “We won't abort this baby. If she doesn't survive the pregnancy, then we'll deal with that situation when it comes. But my little girl won't die at my hands. I won't do it.”
    The doctor sighed and set his elbows on his desk. “We don't agree with terminating pregnancies, either, Mrs. Bauer. This is a Catholic hospital and it is not our policy to do abortions. However, in this situation, there is absolutely no reason to continue the pregnancy.”
    “Tell me this,” Angie said. “If I continue the preg nancy, will I be in any danger?”
    “No, none at all.”
    “Then I want to continue it. There will be no termination.”
    The doctor paused a moment, understanding the cou ple's dilemma. “You must understand that your child has a fatal condition. Continuing the pregnancy will only pro long the suffering of you and your family.”
    Ben spoke up. “She has no chance of surviving? None at all?”
    Again the doctor sighed. “If by some very slim chance she survived the pregnancy, your wife would have to go through a very long labor where we would be suctioning fluid from the sacs around your daughter's neck. Then as soon as she was born, if she survived the delivery, she would be rushed into surgery so the sacs could be removed and so we could operate on any other organs that might be drowning in fluid. Then, if she still survived, she would be men tally handicapped. This is a condition that often goes along with cystic hygroma in female babies.”
    “Then that's the chance we'll take.” Angie stood up and smiled at the doctor through eyes glazed with tears. “Sometimes you have to trust God on these matters, Doc tor.”
    They made an appointment for the following month and returned to their car. The drive home was one of the longest in their lives.
    “Why us, Ben?” Angie cried. She felt defeated and ex hausted and completely brokenhearted for the tiny child she was carrying.
    Ben reached over and held her hand in his. “God has a plan in all this, Angie. We need to pray and have everyone we know pray. God can heal her, honey. You know that.”
    Angie nodded, but the tears continued to stream down her face. “I know. But the ultrasound doesn't lie. She has this … this thing growing on her neck and it's going to choke her to death.” She was sobbing now and she buried her head in her hands. “I feel so helpless. Her little body is trying to grow and develop and all the while she's being slowly strangled. And there's nothing we can do to help her.”
    Ben's eyes filled with tears and for a while they were both silent, lost in their shared grief. Finally, when they were a few minutes from Akron, Angie took a deep breath and slowly released it.
    “It's the saddest I've ever felt about anything,” she said softly. “But you're right. We need to trust God that he has a plan of some kind. At least then he will give us the strength we need to be able to handle the next five months.”
    They told their boys about the baby's problem that night before bedtime.
    “The baby in Mommy's tummy is a little girl,” Ben explained gently. Angie sat near them, quietly wiping the tears from her cheeks. “But she is very, very sick.”
    Bo, their five-year-old, nodded his understanding. “Like when I had the flu?”
    Ben smiled sadly. “Yes. Only much worse. The doctors said that she might die before she's born.”
    The child's eyes grew wide. Ben continued. “We're asking Jesus to help us and