It’s been quite a few years, and I can’t say I remember, but it is so real, and I am so thankful to be alive now, every day.
The first part of my life was wonderful and secure, as anyone would expect for a young child.
Then one day something was terribly wrong.
I didn’t understand why my mother took me to the doctor.
I was not sick, and my mother was not sick either.
The doctor did a simple checkup on my mother.
And the doctor did a checkup on me, checking my heartbeat, my size, and how I was growing.
That much was not so terribly wrong—just a feeling that my mother knew something was wrong.
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Then the terrible wrong started happening.
THE DOCTOR TRIED TO KILL ME—RIGHT THERE IN HIS OFFICE ! ! !
AND MY MOTHER LET HIM DO IT ! ! !
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Then another unthinkable happened.
Something went terribly wrong for the doctor.
HE WAS NOT SUCCESSFUL IN TRYING TO KILL ME ! ! !
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According to my mother, the doctor was very shook up, and scared to death, and scrambled to cover up his attempted murder.
And my mother was equally scared, and looked for a way to get out of this terrible situation and get it behind her.
But she couldn’t, and that’s why I can tell you parts of my story.
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One of the nurses who helped the doctor commit numerous murders every day, successfully without incident, saw that I was alive, and couldn’t help herself but try to keep me alive.
SHE WAS SUCCESSFUL ! ! !
Everything had to be secretive, because no one had to know in the doctor’s office that I was alive, and the nurse depended on this job to provide for her family.
So she told the doctor she would find a place for me, without telling anyone what happened.
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But my mother knew.
So the nurse talked to my mother privately in recovery.
My mother told the nurse of a place someone told her she could have taken me after I was born, with people who could take me as their child.
The nurse called, and in a matter of minutes someone came for me and gave me the emergency medical help I needed.
I recovered from most of the injuries from my attempted murder, and in a few weeks I was in a loving home with a devoted mother and father, who gave me the life I now have.
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And, the rest of the story, so far . . .
The nurse and my mother agreed to stay in touch, and I am thankful for that.
And my new mother and father agreed to their request to make contact after a time, and I’m thankful for that.
My parents openly talked about my early life a little at a time, and when I was ten, we met with my mother and with the nurse who saved my life.
I was ready, because my new parents had raised me to be thankful to God for life, and put my trust in Jesus for everything.
So, not only was the meeting, the reunion, a blessing beyond measure, I was able to let my love for Jesus bless my mother and start the healing she so desperately needed, with her own new relationship with Jesus.
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And that is just the beginning—my story, now, and how it started a couple decades ago.
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You’ve heard stories with a turning point from evil to good, with the phrase, “But God . . .”
YES ! YES ! YES !
That’s my story—But God . . . did not want me to die.
I am determined to live every day of my life to the glory of God, to the best of my ability.
I am determined to live every day of my life to do everything I can to prevent others from such a near murder experience, knowing that for most it does not include “near.”
And I am determined to make a difference in any lives affected by such experiences, just like the nurse, my mother, my new parents, were blessed—and you the reader, can be blessed with Jesus.
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The nurse who saved my life could not continue ending the life of others like me by assisting the doctor. She quit that job, and got a job with blessings at the center that found my new parents.
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When I started writing this, I had no idea I would get so involved. You see, I’m sharing it on behalf of someone else—in fact, someone I don’t know. The intensity is so strong, like it was my own story. I pray it will impact someone with an untold story—a child, a mother, a father, a nurse, a doctor, a volunteer for life.
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