A Mother’s Journey of Faith
By Marcia Kinslow
In January and February of 1983, I was having problems
with my pregnancy, so I went to the Naval Hospital emergency room
in Millington, Tenn. There I was told that I had an ectopic pregnancy
(pregnancy outside of the womb). They admitted me to the hospital
for the night and told me that they would have to do surgery in
I tried to call home to inform my husband that I was in the hospital
and to find out what he would do with my 1-year-old daughter since
I was spending the night. But to my dismay I could not find him.
I called my mother in Willingboro, N.J, and told her the news.
My mother, a woman of faith, said, “Pray and ask God to
move the baby.” As she was talking, I heard what she was
saying but was more concerned about where my husband was. So I
said a very short prayer, “Dear Lord, if the baby is in
my tubes, please move the baby.”
After my conversation with my mother, I felt what seemed like
a splash inside of my womb. I knew that the Lord had moved the
baby. But my mind was still on where my husband and daughter were.
Little did I know that my husband had gone to a wrestling match
and had taken my daughter and he did not seem concerned about
where I was. I did not know that my neighbor had informed him.
When my husband came home, I phoned the house so many times that
he just turned off the ringer without ever answering it.
The next morning I was still concerned about my husband and child.
I was told that the doctor wanted to examine me again before taking
me down to surgery. The doctor said in amazement, “I don’t
know why we thought this baby was in your tubes, but this baby
is in the right place! You are dehydrated, so we are going to
keep you here and give you some fluids.”
Although I was grateful to God, I did not understand this miracle
of the Lord. I did not realize that I was carrying a child of
promise. The enemy fought hard for this baby not to make it into
this world. I had found out that what God ordains no devil can
My son, Pete Jr., was born October 7, 1983. On the first day
of his life, when they brought him into my room, I heard the nurses
talking about how strong and alert he was. We saw him lift his
own head up and look around all by himself. They had laid him
on his stomach and I had gotten up to go to the rest room. He
lifted his head and followed me with his eyes. I did not realize
at the time that most babies do not lift there heads up very well
on the first and second day on their own. But the nurse told me
that that was a miracle. The Lord had already worked out two miracles
for me with my son.
My husband and I had moved back to Virginia Beach, Va., before
P.J. was born. Shortly after P.J.’s birth, Pete Sr. was
sailing with the Navy overseas for six – nine months. I
tried to take care of my two young children alone but did not
even make it more then a week before my neighbors’ ferret
was stuck between my bedroom walls and was trying to eat its way
out at 4:00 a.m. I called my father in New Jersey while I was
standing in the middle of my bed and said, “Come and get
me! There is a rat or something chewing through the wall and it’s
really loud. Come and get me!” My father and mother drove
down that day. They drove my babies and me back to New Jersey.
Seven weeks from the day that my son was born, I had no idea
that the enemy would try and take his life again. My sister and
I had gone to the bank in order for her to transact some business.
While we were in the bank, my daughter, now a 2-year-old took
off running in another direction. I kept trying to encourage her
to return by my side, but she was very inquisitive. She would
just run the other direction again. There weren’t very many
people in the bank that day other then the regular tellers and
loan officers. A bank employee came over to me and said, “Lady,
you can’t just let your daughter run away from your side.
She could get hurt.” I put my son, who was asleep in the
carrier I was holding, on the floor to go over and get my daughter.
Annoyed by my putting my son on the floor, my sister picked up
his carrier and continued talking with the teller about her situation.
All of a sudden I heard a very loud pop and saw my son fall out
head first four feet to the ground.
I ran over, picked him up, and by instinct held him up and tried
to wake him up. Baby P.J. began to cry. I was so upset by what
had just transpired that I turned and walked outside the bank.
By then my sister had to handle my daughter. I was very upset
and praying what to do.
A woman walked up to me as if she were an angel and she said,
“I just saw what happened in the bank. Whatever you do,
don’t let the baby go to sleep.” I did not even recognize
this woman being in the bank. She just appeared outside.
Everyone that worked in the bank saw what happened, but no one
said a word or came to my rescue. I was concerned because the
nearest military hospital was more than 30 minutes away through
country roads. It had snowed and the snow was only cleared in
certain areas. There was a local hospital, but I was afraid of
what it would cost and had never been to any other hospital but
a military one.
My sister walked out of the bank shaking and told me, “You
have to drive my car. I can’t do it.” So here I was,
not only was my son very seriously injured, but I had to drive
the 30 minutes to the hospital because my sister was too young
and too afraid to drive. My sister had not had her license very
long and her car was a stick shift. I told her to hold the baby
on her lap and keep playing with his feet to keep him awake. Little
did I know, because I had not taken off his hat, that his head
was swelling up and bleeding on the inside. We tried everything
and could not get him to wake up. P.J. was not even crying.
When we arrived at the emergency room at Fort Dix Military Hospital,
they were not equipped with a pediatric doctor to care for him
in the emergency room, so the doctors had me carry my son back
to the pediatric clinic. When we arrived there, they made us sit
down like everyone else. I tried to tell them it was an emergency.
When we took off P.J’s hat, his head was so swollen that
it appeared, to me, like the elephant man.
The chief pediatric doctor told me that they would do X-rays
but that they were not equipped to handle an injury like this
on a newborn. They brought me back and showed me the X-rays where
my son’s head was fractured in two places -- it just looked
like an egg had cracked. I could hardly believe what I saw on
the X-ray. The doctor also explained that my son had a hematoma
(internal bleeding). The chief pediatric doctor then told me that
they would have to take Pete Jr. to the children’s hospital
in Camden, N.J., by ambulance.
This was a lot for a new mother to take in. Again, my sister
told me that she could not follow us in the ambulance, but that
she would ride in the ambulance and I would have to follow them
by driving her VW Beetle. P.J. was taken at once as I followed
the ambulance with its sirens and lights. We arrived at the hospital
45 minutes later and I had to find a place to park on the street
while they took P.J. into the emergency room.
Because I breastfed my son, I had to stay in the hospital with
him. That first night they got him settled into a crib and they
went to work on him. They had doctors and nurses all around and
told me that I would have to wait in the other room. With really
no real word as to how Pete Jr. was doing, all I could think to
do was to call my mother. There was not a lot we could do that
night, so I was given a cot in the room next to P.J.’s room
to go to sleep.
I went to sleep, and early that morning I had a dream. I dreamt
that I was walking on a sidewalk pushing my son in his baby carriage/stroller,
and there were other mothers and fathers walking there children
and some pushing their babies in a stroller. It was a beautiful,
sunny day. The landscape was beautiful and everything seemed wonderful
until, all of a sudden, I saw some people just walk up to other
mothers and grab their babies out of the baby carriage. They threw
the babies, and they were splattering on the ground like watermelons
and tomatoes. Then they came over to me and grabbed my son. Before
they could throw him, the sky became dark, and it began to thunder
and lightening – people were running and screaming. I looked
up at the sky, and I saw what appeared to be the face of Jesus
looking down at me. He said to me, “You can get up now.
Your son is all right.” I woke up from receiving that word,
and I went into the room that my son was in. The nurses told me,
“It’s a miracle! Your son is very alert, the swelling
has gone down on his head, and he is answering to his name!”
What the devil meant for bad, God worked out for HIS good. The
Lord had healed my son instantly, and he has been completely healed
from the moment the Lord spoke to me. He never had any problems
from that fall.
God can do a lot when we have faith to believe HIM for whatever
HE wants to do. He hears us when we pray!
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