Our son’s miracle is a testament to prayer and Fulton Sheen’s intercession

Sixteen years ago, in the middle of the night, in the heart of Illinois, a miracle happened.

It didn’t begin as a miracle, of course. The chain of events that would end with a miracle of biblical proportions started with me, laboring at home in the arms of my husband. Unbeknownst to us, our healthy baby boy had a knot in his umbilical cord. That knot tightened during his delivery, cutting off his oxygen supply. When the midwife caught him and placed him in my arms, he was stillborn. For the brief moments I held him, he didn’t cry.