I was born August of 1962; I should have been born in October, but there were serious complications, so I was brought into this world early.I almost wasn't. The afternoon my mother was rushed to the hospital was because her water broke, and there was a considerable amount of blood loss.
She was terrified as the hospital staff was preparing the delivery room. She was shaking from head to toe, not knowing what was wrong, but knowing something was terribly wrong. She kept looking at the crucifix over the door of the room where she was laying on a gurney. She told me she never felt the presence of GOD so powerfully as in those moments when she whispered a desperate prayer.
She was brought in to the delivery room and the doctors, after examining her and looking over her vitals understood that she could lose her life as well as her unborn child. She had three other children and a husband to care for. They decided for the sake of her life and her family to abort the child. That was me.
Meanwhile my father was at a funeral home, kneeling beside the casket of his deceased mother. Some men approached him and whispered to him, "You need to get to the hospital. They think you might lose Dorothy and your baby."
They had to physically lift my father to his feet, so despairing he was of his bleak future without mother, wife and son.
