Some people believe in modern-day miracles with all of their heart. Some people have experienced modern-day miracles. I’ve never had a miracle. Not when I’ve asked for it, when I’ve begged for it, when I’ve gotten down on my knees and pleaded and prayed for it. Not ever.
When my brother died, I cried out to God over and over and over again on the long flight home from West Africa. I begged him to raise my brother from the the dead. I begged and prayed and cried.
For me, a miracle is not a reality. So when the doctor said that Shaundi’s situation was “very grim”, I didn’t ask for a miracle. I asked that I could please wake up from this nightmare, for this to be a dream, for none of it to be true. I begged for this to be my runaway imagination going to very dark places.
I couldn’t ask for a miracle, I had already used the opportunity to ask for a miracle in the past and God did not answer, or if he did he didn’t answer the way that I wanted him to answer. I knew there were no miracles here. When my husband told me that Shaundi just needed me to have positive thinking, I thought positively.
I thought things like “this isn’t real” — that’s positive right? This isn’t my baby, this isn’t my life. My baby is at home, safe, breathing, heart beating, blood flowing. She’s not here, not with these tubes or these wires and these machines. She’s not with people starting her heart over and over again.
What kind of miracle could have happened in this situation? If I had more faith or asked for that miracle, would it have happened? I prayed. Don’t you dare think that I didn’t pray. I didn’t ask for a miracle I just asked for it to not be true. Shaundi’s birth was a miracle, as is every life. There’s no room for miracles when it comes to death.