The doctors prepared me for a baby who might not survive beyond 30 weeks but God had already written a different ending.
August 19 became the day everything changed for the better, the day God fulfilled His Word over our lives.
It was a Saturday, an ordinary day like most others. Yet for my family and me, it became the day God proved Himself to be the Mighty One, the Lord of Hosts, the God who saves and delivers.
It had been nine months of hoping, waiting, believing, and holding on to God’s Word. Hebrews 1:3 - “upholding all things by the word of his power,” - became the anchor Scripture for my husband and me because the doctors said our baby might not make it to 30 weeks. They prepared my body and my baby’s lungs for a premature birth. Because fibroids were growing alongside the pregnancy, I spent most days in discomfort and excruciating pain.
There were nights when I couldn’t sleep and days when, even at work, sharp pains would shoot through my back and waist. I counted the days, and every new week with my baby still safely in my womb was nothing short of a miracle.
“Mrs. Okiemute, we’ve made it into another week,” my doctor would say during each weekly check-up.
Those words became milestones. We weren’t counting months anymore; we were celebrating weeks.
It was a journey that humbled and humanized me.
Beyond the medical challenges were the physical changes. My voice deepened, my skin became hyperpigmented, and my feet swelled. Then there was the constant spitting, as though a saliva factory had opened in my mouth. And I vomited every single day, so much so that brushing my teeth became a ritual I dreaded.
Through it all, the Lord stood by me and strengthened me.
Then the day came when the pain became unbearable. The pain medication I had been using no longer helped. I was admitted to the hospital, and even after several IV doses of pain medication, the pain refused to subside. My doctor made the decision to perform a caesarean section.
“We will observe you for 24 hours, and if nothing changes, we’ll have to do it. He is mature enough now to survive without an incubator.”
By then, even eating had become difficult because my stomach felt so full and tight. The next day, I was still trying to eat some party jollof rice when my doctor walked into the room.
“Stop eating,” she said. “In four hours, we’ll be going into the theatre.”
Four hours became seven, though to me it felt much longer.
Finally, I was prepped and wheeled into the operating theatre, in severe pain, yet with a heart full of expectation and overflowing with gratitude.
By then, a small group of family and friends had gathered to support me.
“By the time I return, we’ll be two,” I said, flashing the peace sign as I was wheeled away.
My husband couldn’t get to the hospital before the unexpected delivery, but throughout the pregnancy, we had prayed our way to that moment together.
What should have taken about 30 minutes stretched much longer because I couldn’t even sit still long enough for the anaesthetist to administer the spinal anaesthesia.
Then I heard a sound I had prayed for over nine months to hear. The cry of a baby.
“Is that my baby?” I asked.
I wept uncontrollably as ‘Jireh’ by Maverick City Music, blared from the speakers in the theatre.
I wept, not because of the pain, but because I was overwhelmed by gratitude to the God who had upheld my son by the word of His power. The little boy the doctors feared might arrive before 30 weeks remained safely hidden until 40 weeks.
Three years later, here we are, living testimonies of God’s mercy and grace. I still cannot tell this story without remembering the God who carried us when medicine had reached its limit. Every birthday is more than a celebration for us; it is a memorial of God’s faithfulness.
As my son, Chiazom, celebrates his third birthday today, I also celebrate my third motherhood birthday.
In these three years, I have seen just how trustworthy God is. I have witnessed His mighty power at work and remain deeply grateful for the privilege of nurturing a life. It is a privilege I never take for granted.
I look forward with joy to all that God has in store for us because I know His thoughts toward us are thoughts of peace and not of evil.
Chiazom is taught of the Lord, and great is his peace. He is established in righteousness and is far from oppression.
To everyone who is waiting and believing God, I pray that in His mercy He remembers you, just as He remembered Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah. And when your testimony comes, may the same hand that brings it also uphold it, preserve it, and perfect all that concerns you.
Today, we celebrate three years of life, grace, and of witnessing the faithfulness of God.
It’s our birthday today. Three years later, the miracle still lives. And so does my gratitude.
