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(left to right) son P.J., daughter Kalisha, and Marcia
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A Mother’s Journey of Faith

By Marcia Kinslow
Staff Writer 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 the morning.

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 stop.

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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