I remember getting the call at about nine-thirty in the evening as I was easing into a night at home with my family. I had done John and Sally’s wedding a few years back. Several months earlier, we had gotten the wonderful news that they were expecting a baby. The voice on the other end of the phone this particular evening was John’s mother—Sally had gone into labor unexpectedly and was at the hospital. John’s mom sounded frantic. She asked if I would pray and come to the hospital and wait with them for the outcome. Sally’s pregnancy was about twenty-five weeks along—past the point of viability but in a dangerous zone that meant this baby would be in for the battle of its tiny life. I rushed down to hospital, and the baby was born about three hours later. That night I was introduced to the wonders of neonatal medicine, the pediatric intensive care unit, and the world of trouble that can surround a premature birth.
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