My husband was born over a month premature in 1969. I was told he stayed in the hospital for almost two months.
He had a "rare blood disorder" that caused doctors to say he'd likely die, but it miraculously disappeared after the church held a prayer vigil. He was so small when he came home, he fit in a shoe box. My mother in law said he was an ugly baby.
When he was released by doctors, the billing department told my MIL she had to pay the bill in full before she could take him home. She tried to work out a payment plan, but they told her again she had to pay it in full. She said, "OK. I guess you'll have to keep him since I can't do that. I'll pay a little each week and come to visit him." It's amazing how fast they worked out the payment plan after that.
He's 6', healthy, strong, and at nearly 50 years old, just spent two full days cutting down trees and then cutting them up into firewood. The third day, he worked a 10 work day and then cut firewood again for three hours.
God is good, and I am very thankful for the gift of my "premature baby" husband!
Clint and I still chuckle over his mother's creative way of handling the billing department.
