Cara & Wiley | The Little Man That Changed Everything

December 19th, 2018...
Just like every morning, I woke up at 4 AM and headed toward Parkman Livestock to start my day—a day filled with processing, doctoring, and sorting cattle. This time of year, everything started to slow down for us. The boss had quit buying, and we were getting everything ready for Christmas—a rare time for us to spend the whole day with our families.

Cara typically woke up after me and usually called on her way to work or shortly after getting up. I was saddling my horse to start my circle when I received a phone call far earlier than expected. Cara was 31 weeks pregnant with our firstborn. She had been experiencing some swelling and high blood pressure, but the doctor didn’t seem overly concerned. Being a nurse, she kept a close eye on it—and that particular morning, her blood pressure was through the roof.

She called her parents to take her to the hospital, as I was roughly 60 miles away pushing up cattle. Cara explained everything to me in detail—her medical knowledge giving her an edge most people don’t have. I, on the other hand, was borderline ignorant to the terrible possibilities. Nevertheless, I turned my horse out and raced to the hospital.

I remember walking through the ER, the alarm on the metal detector going off because of my knife and spurs. The security guard took my knife for safekeeping and said the spurs were fine. I can still hear the sound of my boots hitting the hospital tile as I walked into the unknown. A nurse guided me down the hall to a small intake room. My wife lay in the bed, understandably upset.

In situations like that—where I have no real knowledge of what’s happening or what could happen—I tend to do one of two things: pray to the King, or try to find the bright side. I spent that time in the tiny room encouraging my wife, telling her how thankful I was for her medical knowledge, and assuring her that now that we were at the hospital, she’d be taken care of. In hindsight, I don’t think my attitude helped. I should have just listened to her. That’s a skill I’ve had to learn over the years—and I’m still working on it. I’m a fixer, a problem-solver, a solution-finder—that’s where my mind goes in times of crisis.

Eventually, we were admitted to the maternity unit. They put Cara on all kinds of medications to manage the high blood pressure. One treatment I remember was something called a "mag drip." She was sick as a dog—puking, sweating, completely incapacitated. The doctors explained that if her blood pressure didn’t come down, they’d have to deliver the baby. They said it was unlikely—but still a possibility. The baby had only been "cooking" for 31 weeks. I didn’t even know you could have a baby that early.

Panic set in. My wife was hooked up to all sorts of machines, with nurses coming in and out constantly. My positive mental attitude gave way to total reliance on God.

I could feel the enemy attacking. I could feel a full-on onslaught against my little family. So I ran to Scripture. I started writing down verses and taping them to Cara’s bed. I’m sure everyone thought I’d lost my mind—but I knew I had only one thing to do: pray. Cry out to the One who could save them. Don my armor, draw my sword, and fight the one who comes to kill, steal, and destroy. Verse after verse went up on that bed as Cara fought tooth and nail while the doctors slowly but surely brought her blood pressure down.

After a full day of treatment, God, Cara, and the doctors prevailed. We were told there would be no emergency C-section and that she’d be discharged the next day. On the morning of December 20th, I decided to head home to wrap Christmas presents while Cara’s mom stayed to have lunch with her. Everyone who had come to support Cara had trickled back to normal life.

Cara hadn’t eaten since the morning before, so her mom brought her lunch. As they finished eating, a nurse walked in. She had noticed from the nurses’ station that Wiley’s heart monitor wasn’t picking up a heartbeat. This was common—usually due to the monitor shifting when the mother moves.

But after a few moments of trying to reposition it, the nurse realized something was wrong. Cara, with all her knowledge, could tell too. The nurse called the OBGYN to report she couldn’t get a heart rate. The doctor told her to order an ultrasound and said she’d be there shortly. But that nurse—an angel, an instrument of the Almighty—refused to wait. “We don’t need an ultrasound. You need to be here now,” she said. The doctor listened. She rushed down and burst into the room like a superhero.

She found a faint heartbeat. That incredible team of women sprang into action—pulling wires, prepping the bed, calming my wife, and saving my family. They told Cara she’d be having an emergency C-section, 9 weeks early, and rolled her to the OR.

As they ran down the hall, I got a call from my bride. All she said was, “I’m having a C-section—come to the hospital.” I raced to my truck and drove like mad. Just two hours before, everything was fine. I prayed like never before. I pleaded for mercy—for compassion—for God to save them.

Meanwhile, Cara hit the operating table. She was still awake as the doctor poured iodine on her belly. The anesthesiologist worked quickly. My truck screeched to a halt in front of the hospital, and I ran like my life depended on it. I found my mother-in-law near the recovery room. She told me they were okay. Cara was in recovery. Wiley was in the NICU.

I had no idea he was already here. My little three-pound, two-ounce warrior had arrived—alive, in real life. I walked into recovery to find Cara, groggy from the meds, but alive. And she had delivered one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given.

Later, the doctor explained what had happened. Cara had a silent abruption—when the placenta detaches from the uterine wall. Had she not been in that hospital bed when it happened, both she and Wiley would have died.

I fully believe the King placed us there. Cara’s medical training, her blood pressure spike, those nurses, that doctor—they were all handpicked by God to save my family. To stop the enemy from destroying us.

I remember feeling overwhelmed with gratitude—broken and humbled by the King's power, His mercy, and His love. I didn’t—and don’t—deserve what God has given me. I don’t deserve a wife as incredible as Cara. I’m not worthy to raise a son as wonderful as Wiley. Yet here I am.

That moment cemented something deep inside me: Wiley is a son of the King of Kings. I’m here to love him, to guide him—but make no mistake, he belongs to the Alpha and Omega. Fatherhood changed me to my core. God used that little boy to transform who I am and what I’m willing to do for our family. One look at him gave me a whole new understanding of what God did for us when He gave His Son on the cross. He gave His only Son—for me and for you.

Make no mistake—we did not and do not deserve it.
That is God’s grace.

Sincerely,
Dalton Darnell