After Helen and I had our two girls, we lost a third daughter who was stillborn at full term. Helen had several miscarriages following that, and we began think we might not have another child.

One day, a woman came to my office. She was a member of the congregation who had taken a dislike to me over the years. As a result, she had become distant from the church and I rarely talked to her. This day, she sat near the door to my study as though she didn't want to get too close to me. She was obviously ill at ease but she said she had a message to deliver.

She told me a little about her history. After the birth of her two boys, she also had lost a baby. Years later, she had given birth to a girl, and they had been so happy about her that they had named her Joy.

She said she had had a dream or a vision in which she was given this information for me. She said Helen would get pregnant again, that it would be a boy, that it would be an easy pregnancy and a safe delivery, and that the baby would be healthy. Then she left.

We had just begun to suspect that Helen was two weeks pregnant. It was too soon to be sure and far too soon to tell anyone. But this woman's message gave us a great sense of peace, and I had the assurance all through the pregnancy that everything would be all right.

Helen was induced just before full term to avoid the problem we had had previously. While Helen was in the labor room, a nurse walked by. She could not see in but she was able to hear the fetal heart monitor. She called out, "Sounds like a boy." And it was.

David said years later, in reflecting on those events, that he had chosen to be part of our family. He was ready to become our child, but then his "vehicle" died. So he had a choice: to find another family, or to wait for another pregnancy which would still allow him to join our family. He decided to wait, since he already chosen us to be his parents.

He said, "The only difference is, I'm five years younger than I would have been, and I'm a boy instead of a girl. But, in the long run, it really doesn't matter."