Where there is great love, there are always greater miracles. 

                                                                                     - Willa Cather

Two hours after the birth, I had yet to meet my tiny son. I was told I could see him soon. Twice they wheeled my bed to his pod in the NICU, only to find he was still in resuscitation. When I arrived in my new room where I would recover for the next three days, we received a phone call that the nurse put on speaker phone for Steven and I to hear. They told us that tiny Alex was rapidly going downhill, and they needed us to come see him in the resuscitation room. 

Numb, overwhelmed and terrified, they wheeled my recovery bed in by his table. He was covered with plastic for warmth, already had many tubes all over his body, and his face was covered with a hat. I saw his beautiful pink feet poking out, and a tiny pink hand up a little further. He was so much smaller than I had anticipated. I watched him helplessly as they explained what was happening. He had done so well with everything up until that point. His ability to breathe had quickly gone from very good to very bad, and he wasn't responding to the oxygen. There was talk of needing to do a transfusion, but there was no time to find out his blood type, and losing that much blood would definitely be harmful to such a tiny being in that state. Through my tears I was able to squeak out a request to touch my baby. A wonderful doctor quickly replied "Absolutely." 

I reached out to touch his tiny toes, and he pushed back against me. I put my finger in his hand, and immediately felt pressure in return. My tiny baby was clinging to me, as if begging an answer "Mommy, what's happening? Please help me." 

My heart burst in that moment. My baby needed me! With all the doctors needed to do, my baby still needed me! He held on with all his strength, until his fingers turned white, and he wouldn't let go. As I watched my beautiful little boy through my tears, I heard my sweet husband crying behind me. As he held my hand and we watched our baby, we became a family.

Over the next few minutes, I heard the doctors say he was improving, and that his oxygen levels were going up, with him being able to breathe more freely on his own. The feeling in the room was slowly changing. From feeling there was a high chance we would lose our son, there began to be hope that everything would be alright. 

The doctors and nurses said he was on his way back up from that downward slope, and as I was wheeling back to my room, we thought that Steven should stay back to give him a name and also a blessing. My Mom asked a nurse if she could track down another priesthood holder, and then she accompanied me back to my room, where we waited for news of Alex.

Steven gave Alex a name and a blessing with another man who also spoke Spanish. Halfway through the blessing, Steven felt a peace come over him, and he was able to bless Alex with strength and health. Alex continued to improve that night, and the next morning was holding his own (with the help of many machines) very well. The doctor was surprised that he had so quickly taken a turn for the better.

What sweeter gift than this? Such a strong little man, so ready to fight to be with us. He has brought beauty and tenderness into our lives. He has shown us the meaning of love. He has worked a miracle in us.

Though the next few months will be full of daily roller coasters with ups and downs in his health, we feel confident that what Alex is going through is in the Lord's hands. He continues to need us on a daily basis. Though we wish there were more we could do for him, we live for those moments each day when we can reach our hands into his incubator, place them on his tiny toes, his hands, his head, and watch him respond. 

We can imagine no sweeter blessing.

There's no way we could have known, no way we could have prepared for the adventure that began for us on Halloween night. My body went into preterm labor, with my baby only at 23 weeks and 4 days. We went into Labor and Deliver at the Logan hospital, and were told my body was trying to get the baby out. I was already dilated to 5 cm, and had a bulging bag of waters. Babies have a much higher chance of survival at 24 weeks and beyond, so there was much cause for concern for our little one. I was flown to McKay Dee in Ogden which has a fantastic NICU, in the event that the doctors wouldn't be able to keep my baby inside of me for very long. Less than an hour after my helicopter flight into Ogden, my water broke, and we knew it would be a matter of hours or days before we would meet our tiny baby.

The next couple of days were spent with my sweetheart, my Mom and I sitting and watching our baby's heartbeat. Movies were uninteresting, and the only thing that brought peace was watching his heartbeat on the monitor, and listening to its steadiness. Knowing that as long as he was still inside, he was okay. Wondering why he wanted or needed to come out. Wondering why my body couldn't keep him inside. Wondering how long it would be safe for him to stay inside me, instead of in the care of the NICU staff.

Through those few days of being paralyzed on my back, I felt such an intensity of love for my sweetheart, and for our son. I had no idea what was happening or why, but I felt a peace knowing that it was in the hands of the Lord. I knew that He was in charge. I was given another blessing by Steven and my Dad. Hearing the concern of so many friends, relatives and friends of friends gave me peace that our baby would be well. If he wasn't, how could I doubt that it was in the hands of the Lord? We started to feel as though it was time for the baby to come, but the doctors were still giving me medication to keep the contractions from coming. The evening before our baby was born, Steven stood on the left of my bed, my Mom on the right, and I asked my Mom if she would say a prayer. She prayed a lovely prayer that again brought peace to my heart and reassured me of the Lord's love for our tiny family. I then asked if Steven wanted to say a prayer, which he did. I have been amazed at his strength in this process. To see his love for our unborn baby, to see him exercising his faith that all would be well - this was peace. I then offered to say a prayer. I had been alright up until this point. I had felt that things would be alright. But I lost it as I prayed that above all, our little son would somehow feel our love in the difficult and painful situation to which he would be arriving. In that moment I started to realize the love I already had for him, the desire I already had that he would feel no pain. I just wanted him to know how incredibly he is loved.

The next afternoon I started having contractions again, and as the baby was transverse and there was no amniotic fluid in which to move him around, the doctor decided to do a cesarean section. They came in and let us know we'd be going in half an hour to the OR, where I'd have the procedure, and the NICU team would be ready for resuscitation in the room next to the OR. Only Steven could come with, but he could take the camera. We felt excited. We'd waited for several days knowing this moment was coming soon, and were happy it was finally here.

But all the fear also started to creep in. I have never feared anything more than an epidural and being cut open. All of a sudden, this was reality, and I realized I was slipping out of control, even more than I had for the last several days. As he had been throughout the few days previous, Steven was my strength. Seeing the confidence and faith in his eyes gave me something to hang on to.

As I sat up for the first time in 3 days for the epidural, the fear I felt was unbelievable. As the doctors rushed around me in that cold room with their cold instruments, I tried to let things happen, but couldn't keep the tears from coming. After I was a little numb, the anesthesiologist gave me something to make me dizzy, which helped me to relax a little as they strapped my arms to the table. I prayed desperately in that moment for God to help me relax, and to give me something to concentrate on. I prayed that I would be able to feel angels helping me. I was a little frustrated when I felt nothing, but also realized in that moment that he already had sent me an angel, and his name was Steven. Steven stayed by my face, wiped my tears away, cupped my face with his hands, and whispered to me that everything would be okay.

He saw our baby's feet first. The doctors milked the cord a couple of times to give the baby as much cord blood as possible, and before I knew it, he was gone into the next room. Steven stayed with me for a few more moments until he was allowed into the next room.

Alex Murray Delao

On November 3rd, 2012, our little guy was born, weighing in at 1 lb 10 oz, and 12 1/2 inches. His due date was February 24th, 2013. Steven stayed with him for about 30 minutes while I was wheeled into recovery, where my Mom and I waited for Steven to come back and tell us about baby Alex. In many ways, I was so relieved to have Alex in the hands of those who knew how to care for him, but instantly missed having his presence with me. That is something that won't change throughout the next several months. I miss having my baby inside me. I miss feeling every kick, knowing he's growing, and that I'm able to supply him with the things he needs. Now I have to place him in the care of the skilled and incredibly kind NICU staff of McKay-Dee Hospital, and trust in God that everything is going to be alright with our baby. I couldn't feel any more blessed to have him in my little family. Steven and I feel incredibly overwhelmed with love for our little guy.