My son should be dead. There is no medical reason to explain why he is alive today, practicing yoga in his room after a long day of homeschool lessons, spelling practice, and running around screaming because he’s a nine-year-old boy and that’s what he likes to do.
I love to tell stories. You’ve probably guessed that about me by now. But Silas’ story is one I tend to keep more private.
One of the reasons I’m so comfortable with fiction is that I can hide behind my characters. If I write about an uptight, control-freak mother, you can only guess if she’s modeled after me or not. But if I tell you how tightly wound I was until my newborn baby stopped breathing and went over ten minutes without oxygen, I have no fictional persona to hide behind.
Silas’ whole story is a miracle, but it’s far too much to share in a single blog post. That’s why I ended up turning his first five years into a printed memoir (my very first book to be published, actually).
Writing Silas’ story was a healing process for me, as I’m sure you can guess. It’s also a fabulous way to chronicle everything God’s done in the life our little miracle baby. One of my favorite stories is when Silas was three and started talking about angels helping him the day he was born. My husband and I had no idea he had latent memories from that day, but for months he would talk about angels playing with him and singing to him while he was in a bed at the hospital. At one point, he even talked about a giant play room full of toys the angels took him to.
I have one of these conversations on camera, and every time I watch it, I get chills, not just because of what my son says about the angels (and what the angels said to him), but because it’s such a fabulous reminder of how many miracles God’s worked in my boy’s life from the beginning up until now.
I hope you enjoy Silas’ story and his own words about the day of his birth.
Categories: Family Life