Dear Friends,
Sharing a parishioner’s story about the power of prayer and the hope such power proclaims.
Peace,
Fr. Damian
I’ve hesitated to share this story because my intercessory prayer was answered in four minutes. And the way I know that it was answered in four minutes is our family story.
In Lamaze class, our instructor told us something that stuck with me: If there were complications with the baby, the medical team would leave the mother on the delivery table and devote all their attention to saving the baby’s life. I remember thinking how cold that sounded—leaving the mother there while the team focused solely on the child. But I dismissed the thought, assuming the odds of that happening to us were slim.
On the night of our daughter Shannon’s birth, that lesson became our reality.
Leading up to the delivery, I thought, Wow, we are getting outstanding care. The doctor and nurses were constantly checking on us, staying with us for hours before the birth. It felt reassuring—until the moment Shannon was born.
Suddenly, the delivery room became a flurry of activity. She was taken to a table I hadn’t noticed before. Three new nurses entered the room. The medical team worked in silence—no small talk, no explanations. The only words spoken came from a nurse monitoring the clock. She rhythmically called out the time and gave the command, “Bag her,” their term for applying CPR.
They left Diana lying on the delivery table, just as we had been told they would.
At first, we were mesmerized by the team’s silent efficiency. But then, at the five-minute mark, amazement gave way to fear. We had no idea what was happening. At Diana’s urging, I summoned the courage to leave her side and walked over to where they were working on our daughter. Looking over the nurses’ shoulders, I saw Shannon.
She was completely blue. The medical team continued their efforts.
At nine minutes, there was still no sign of life. I have to confess—dark thoughts crept in. I don’t know if I can raise a child who will have severe challenges because of oxygen deprivation at birth. At 12 minutes, the fear became unbearable. There was still no indication she was alive.
I did the only thing I could think of: I prayed. I promised God that no matter the outcome, I would love, care for, and raise this child to the best of my ability—just let her live.
Then, at 16 minutes—just holding Diana in silence —we heard it.
A cry. She was breathing on her own.
Once everything stabilized and Shannon had been life-flighted to a larger hospital, a nurse stopped by to explain what had happened before birth. She also warned me that babies who don’t breathe on their own for that long typically have developmental issues.
But God had other plans. Maybe He knew I couldn’t live up to my end of the bargain. Or maybe He had a purpose for Shannon beyond what we could have imagined.
Despite the nurse’s warning, our daughter has thrived. She is an amazing person, daughter, wife, and mother. And through it all, her faith has been her greatest guiding light.
Dave Neubauer