I can honestly say I believe in miracles. Two Easters ago, I experienced one. Her name: Serenity Milagros.
On Easter Day 2011, I was recovering at the hospital after giving birth to my daughter, who arrived about 8 weeks premature due to a chemo regimen that helped set me into early labor.
I still remember how anxious I was as NICU staff whisked my baby away after delivery. They warned us that Serenity could remain in NICU for several weeks — or at least until she was eating, breathing and regulating body temperature on her own.
That Easter, when she was only a few days old and still in NICU, Serenity ripped a feeding tube off her little face. My heart broke seeing the red patch across my baby’s cheek from the tape that held the feeding tube in place. At the same time, I was amazed that someone that tiny (4 lbs., 9 oz.) had so much strength.
Amazed but not surprised. After all, Serenity had already endured two surgeries and seven rounds of chemo in utero, as I battled breast cancer throughout the entire pregnancy.
That Easter, NICU staff informed me that they would not re-insert Serenity’s feeding tube, as she had never needed it anyway. She was already eating well enough on her own. In fact, Serenity was released from the hospital and came home two days later.
Serenity – and her strength – are nothing short of a miracle in my eyes. I prayed for her health and my prayers were answered. Thanks to an awesome God, I now have a beautiful, healthy daughter, who will soon celebrate her second birthday.
Albert Einstein said: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Well, I believe in miracles.