Fall of 1996, I was attending school at Howard University as a freshman. At the start of the semester, I was two months pregnant. By the time the semester was over and the holidays had arrived I was moving along in my pregnancy at 25 weeks (5 ˝ months). I chose to go visit with my relatives in Tennessee and arrived on December 17 at about midnight. The next day, at about noon, I started to have pains in my stomach, and thought nothing of them. By the time 4 o’clock rolled around the pains were coming quite frequently, and I began to cry. My aunt got concerned and took me to the hospital. I then finally realized that I was in labor.
Once at the hospital, it wasn’t long before I gave birth to a wrinkled little 1 pound 11 ounce, 13 inch long, boy. The doctors then began to inform me that my son only had a 25% chance of living, and that they would do every thing that they could to help him. They went on to say that if he did live, he would have a 1 out of 3 chance of being handicap, a 1 out of 3 chance of have a serious nervous disorder, and a 1 out of 3 chance of being normal. So what that boils down to, is that he only had a 8.33% chance of growing up to be a normal child.
Well he ended up being in the hospital for just over three months, and came home at a healthy 4 pounds 5 ounces, 18 ˝ inches. He is now 2 years old and just as happy and normal as possible. He does have poor vision in one of his eyes and he wears glasses, but other than that he is just like any other two year old.
"People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.' And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them." —Mark 10:13–16
May God bless you and give you joy!