All pregnancies have their ups and downs, but I’d experienced more than my share of downs—early contractions, blood clots, mandatory bed rest, plus a difficult delivery on top of all that. It seemed worth it now that I held my firstborn in my arms, my husband dozing in the visitor’s chair.
I was exhausted too, but baby Kalin was hungry. I set him down on the bed while I prepared to nurse him. In a split second, Kalin slipped to the floor!
I screamed. Kalin howled. My husband jumped up to cradle him. The nurses took Kalin to be examined in another room.
“Oh, no!” I cried. God had protected Kalin through so much and now I’d let him get hurt.
A few minutes later the nurse returned with a peaceful Kalin in her arms. “Not so much as a bruise,” she said, handing him to me. “I can’t understand it. It’s like he fell onto a cushion!”
Or an angel’s wing, I thought.
God was still protecting Kalin—and he always would.
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