Carter was born in February and as his birthday rolls around each year I am reminded of God’s amazing grace in that we are able to celebrate yet another year of his life. Here is part of Carter’s story.
It’s a Saturday in May 2002. I am holding our 3 month old baby and something doesn’t feel right.
I’m afraid.
I look at his little baby face and feel as if I’m saying goodbye, as if he is slipping away from me, as if he’s dying. I try to push the thoughts away, but they persist.
I’ve always wondered about this baby. He hardly moved in utero and when he did the movements were very slight. I’d had 4 previous pregnancies and this was dramatically different, but I chose not to worry and looked forward to a calm and peaceful newborn.
Toward the end of my pregnancy I suffered some severe physical symptoms of wacky hormones.
I’m unable to sleep for 4 days and nights straight.
I have night sweats and uncontrollable shaking episodes.
I’m unable to eat. Any food I put into my mouth comes right back up.
I am able to sip fluids and by the fourth or fifth day am able to eat small bites of food. After a week or so I’m able to eat a boneless, skinless chicken breast over the course of a day and I continue with that diet until I go into labor.
I have the flu when labor begins. I’m running a fever, coughing, sneezing and vomiting.
The baby’s heart rate is dropping too low and not rebounding like it should.
They put in an epidural in case a c-section is necessary.
It’s not.
Our smallest baby is born, running a fever. Our other four children come to visit, but may only look at their new brother through the glass in the nursery. He’s sick.
Carter and I recover at home together and he is the calm, peaceful newborn that I hoped for. I have a healthy, laid back 3 month old and can’t explain why I feel like he’s slipping away from me on this sunny Saturday morning in May.
I share my thoughts with Mark and he doesn’t think I’m crazy.
I say that I think that we should call our pediatrician. “What would you tell him?”
That stumps me. “Hi Dr. G. this is Kimberly. I think that there is something wrong with our baby.” “No, he’s not sick.” “He’s been eating fine.” “His color looks good.”
I decide not to call the doctor.
Our family heads to a friend’s birthday party. Our gaggle of small children is excited about a special afternoon playing with friends.
I try to squelch my fears.
“Everything is fine,” I think to myself.
Verses are running through my head,
‘Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known unto God.’
“Dear Lord, please protect my baby.”
“Please give me your spirit of peace.”
“Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief.”
The party is in full swing when Carter falls asleep in my arms. With four other children ages 5 and younger and all the fun activities available, I normally would have placed Carter in his car seat nearby and helped some of the other children blow bubbles or swing.
This was my one concession to my fear: I could not put him down. I needed to keep him with me.
So I stand and hold our sleeping infant.
I watch his face go from baby pink to white.
“You are really letting your fear get the best of you.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“This is just your imagination.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
I need someone to reassure me that he was fine.
I ask my friend, “Does Carter look all right to you?” as he begins to turn blue.
My friend jumps into action.
For me things are a blur. “Dear God, please don’t let me baby die.”
Someone calls 911. “Dear God please make him breath.”
I try to wake Carter.
“I can’t do this.”
“I can not stand here and watch my baby die. Dear God please do something.”
Carter remains unresponsive.
Mark comes.
There is discussion about driving to the hospital or going by ambulance.
I am unable to make any decisions. I feel that if I do the wrong thing, he will die.
I can do nothing.
I am paralyzed by fear. I can’t think. “God, please don’t take him away from me.”
I can’t decide. Car? Ambulance? “Please wake up. Please start breathing.”
I can’t even remember how to get to the hospital. “God, please.”
By the time the ambulance arrives, Carter is awake and breathing. His color begins to return.
When we get to the hospital all of his vitals look good. They put him on a heart monitor and send us home.
Our pediatrician says that he believes the incident would have been billed “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome” if I had not been holding Carter.
I’m thankful that God’s Spirit spoke to me on that day in May 2002 and I’m thankful that God preserved the life of our son and that we’ve been blessed to celebrate 8 years with Carter.
I’ve mentioned before that I tend to be very aware of the fragility of life. (Yes, I’m fearful at times.) Part of this comes from my mom being diagnosed with cancer when I was 11. Our experience with Carter was another life changer for me. In the midst of my fear, I often remind myself of God’s goodness and grace, specifically in His preservation of Carter’s life.
He is the only reason that we celebrate ANY birthdays. We just don’t see His preserving hand in all situations as clearly as we do in some of them. Blessed be the God of all life!

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