(By Laura Silva)
I asked the doctor to be excused and I walked out of the small emergency room into the large atrium of Sick Kids Hospital with my baby girl in my arms. That evening the hospital was crowded. I saw no one. It was difficult to think. As I held her tightly, all I could do was cry out to God. The tears flowed down my face. My five-month-old daughter, Rebecca, was diagnosed with a deadly disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy Type 1. My world and my dreams for her came crashing down.
I’ve learned in a very short period of time that I am not in control of certain events in my life. It began the day of her birth. That day was mixed with pure joy and fear. The beauty of having her little body placed on my chest and the sound of her cry was surreal. She was mine. The love that I already had for her was so great. Rebecca was born naturally and she had a tough time entering this world. That’s where things started to spiral. I had experienced a postpartum hemorrhage following her birth. I remember having a difficult time breathing and then losing consciousness.
I awoke to doctors and nurses fervently working on me. My breath was slow and I knew my body was shutting down. I remember gazing into my husband’s eyes and saying goodbye. Images of our little family crossed my mind. Shortly after code blue was called, I felt life coming back into me. I felt God’s hand upon me. He saved me. I knew there were many prayers lifted up in Jesus’ name in those moments. May 30th was a day of miracles. My baby girl was born and I was saved from death.