Michael James Johnson

It was August 23, 2002. I was in the hospital, waiting for my doctor to come in to discuss the procedure. My husband was by my side, but we were both unusually quiet. Let me tell you how we got there.

Shawn and I had been trying to get pregnant for a while. I was diagnosed with PCOS early on, and had several surgeries and took fertility drugs to try and conceive. I took the pregnancy test early, and when I got a positive, we were thrilled! I probably called that very day to get an appointment with my OB/GYN. At 5 weeks along, he wanted an ultrasound. The tech wasn't there that day, so my doctor did it himself. Looking back on it now, I know he was concerned about what he saw, but he told me to come back in a week when the tech would be there, because he said "I don't really know what I'm doing with this machine; she does it better."

Tuesday, August 21st, I took my Mom with me to the ultrasound. The tech found my baby, but there was no heartbeat, and he was abnormally formed. He was gone. I was allowed to cry in that room for as long as I needed. They then took me to my doctor's desk where he lovingly told me my options: I could wait for nature to run it's course, or I could go in for surgery. I opted for surgery. I had to wait two days until Thursday.

Wednesday, in a quiet moment while Shawn and I just held each other, mourning the child we had lost, he asked me, "Can we name the baby, honey?" My answer at that time was a bit snappy. I said, "Why? We don't know if it was a boy or a girl! Why waste a perfectly good name?" That was the end of the discussion.

I had a dream that night. I didn't remember the dream, but when I woke up, I had this knowledge that my baby boy's name was Michael James. I don't know why, I don't know how. I just knew. It was a comfort to me though. I believe God spoke that to me in my dream, as if to say, "Michael is here with me, Tina. He's perfect. You will see him again one day." 

Thursday morning, we arrived at the hospital. My doctor came in the room with me before the surgery to talk. He was wearing a crisp, white linen shirt and pair of pants to match. (This little detail will come into play a bit later.) I kissed my husband and was wheeled in to surgery. Shawn met me in recovery, and our pastor at the time, "Dave" came in as well. Honestly, I don't remember the rest of that day.

Over the next few days, I told people my news; I was sad that I'd lost my baby, of course. But the comfort of that dream was just too much to ignore. The response I kept getting was off-putting, though. It was as if each person was patting me on the head and going,"Awe, that's sweet. There's no way she can know, so I'll just humor her into thinking I believe her." I got this so many times that I began to doubt. I doubted God.

One day, Pastor "Dave" called to check on me. As we talked, I told him about my dream, and that I knew that my baby had been a boy. His response to me was, "Oh, yeah. I knew that. Your doctor told me that."

WHAT???

I got a bit upset at that bit of news, so I quickly ended the conversation, to his chagrin. He knew I was upset, but didn't know why. First, it is entirely illegal for my doctor to divulge medical information like that to anyone, not really even my husband, without my consent. Second, there's no way for my doctor to know at that early a stage (6.5 weeks) the sex of the baby. I confirmed this with my doctor at my post-op appointment.

The next Sunday, "Dave" found me and was very upset. He asked if I'd spoken to my doctor. I answered that yes, I had, but I had some questions for "Dave" first. "When you saw my doctor, was he wearing a surgical mask?" He answered that yes, the doctor was wearing one, but it was not over his face, but draped around his neck. "What was he wearing?" I asked. He answered, "his scrubs." (Remember earlier? My doctor came in to see me before surgery wearing his street clothes, not scrubs. I don't remember seeing him after the procedure.)

Now, what to do with all this weird information that doesn't make sense at all?

"Dave" was staring wide-eyed at me. I should also say that before this conversation, I had been praying and asking God to make things clear to me. I already knew what was going on, but apparently I had to explain it to "Dave".

"All I can tell you, 'Dave', is that God gave you a vision that wasn't meant for you in any way shape or form. I was doubting Him after he clearly told me something to comfort me, and he needed to make it a lot clearer for me, so he used you."

Since then, I have had no doubt whatsoever. I know that my first son, Michael James, is with my Lord. You can have your doubts, but for me, this is fact. I will get to meet him one day, and I will know him immediately. I am so thankful to my Lord for being so patient with me!