This case happened a few months ago before we traveled to the US for the holidays.  We shared the story at a few churches while in the US, but wanted to send it as an email for everyone to enjoy.

I was in need of another miracle today.

The young woman had no pulse in her wrist and no blood pressure.   The only way I knew she was still alive was that she was moving all over the stretcher, anxious, irritable and confused. Without any intervention she would be dead in the next 20-30 minutes. She was bleeding profusely and had been for more than an hour. She had been in labor for more than a day at a small clinic and was referred to our hospital when the bleeding became severe. Next to the stretcher a bag of blood was hanging, dripping into her arm. This had been started when the bleeding became severe, but she needed much more blood and other fluids to save her life.

Her abdomen appeared to contain a full term baby, but I assumed the baby was dead with all the bleeding. We were unable to hear the baby’s heart beat. My goal now was to save the mother’s life, and then and there I sent a prayer to God to help me to save her life. Like every day in our hospital, it would require a miracle.

I looked up at the family members standing next to the stretcher. There were several women, an older woman who was probably the patient’s mother and two younger ones, probably sisters. They were dressed in traditional Muslim gowns. The husband, wearing a full beard, a long Muslim robe, and a small white cap on his head, looked worried. They had come to our Christian hospital because they hoped we could help. I prayed God would show them how Jesus can perform a miracle for her as he did for so many others when He walked among us. 

I explained to the family that we needed three more bags of blood immediately and that she needed surgery to remove the baby and stop the bleeding to save her life. The family would need to donate the blood themselves since we never have enough pints in our blood bank.

We rushed the patient to the operating room. We started another IV and rushed fluid into the patient’s arms. Once the blood was ready we also started. I cut into her abdomen and discovered a grim finding. The uterus was torn, ripped apart, and the baby was coming out of it into the abdomen. I extended the tear to make room for the baby, cut the cord, and removed the limp body. To my surprise, I noticed a bit of movement as I handed the fetus to the nurse who began giving oxygen and compressions. After removing the placenta, I repaired the uterine tear until the bleeding finally stopped. I didn’t hear the baby crying and assumed that it’s dead, but when I asked the nurse he told me the baby was fine. A little boy, now breathing on his own.

The last of three bags of blood was dripping into the new mother’s arm. Her blood pressure had normalized and she had a strong pulse in her wrist. She and her new baby boy were both going to be fine.

As I left the operating room and walked outside to the corridor I met the entire family waiting to hear the news. There was a group of more than 10 of them by then, all dressed in traditional Muslim outfits. I was excited to tell them that the baby is alive and that the mother is also alive. They broke into cheers, all of them jumping up and down in unison. The sense of joy and euphoria I felt cannot be explained. God had performed another miracle today. 

Jason