Helmi
Published on the official Facebook page of the Roman Catholic Church in Estonia in March 2024 and in the Telegram group “Katolitceskii Tallinn
When prayers ascend, the birds give way to them.
How God – our good and loving Father – waits for and considers our prayers, I recently experienced firsthand through answered prayers and a grace-filled gift to my family: a miracle from God. I am one of the witnesses to this miracle, and I feel that sharing this experience could serve as an inspiration for the beauty of prayer – both for those who pray persistently and seek God’s closeness, and for those who sometimes experience difficulties in prayer. Also for those who have never prayed but have thought about it. Or as a source of hope for those who have never even considered prayer and find themselves in a doubtful situation, where even abandoning the child has been suggested.
The miracle manifested with the birth of my granddaughter on February 22, 2024, at 21:01 in Vantaa, Finland. Specifically, God changed the child’s face at the moment of her birth, while she was still growing in her mother’s womb. Previously, throughout the mother’s pregnancy, doctors had diagnosed and repeatedly confirmed, based on ultrasound scans taken at different times and locations, a facial developmental disorder: a right-sided cleft lip, with a corresponding probability of an accompanying cleft palate. The doctors left the extent of this unspecified but did not rule anything out, as they estimated that the internal extent of such developmental disorders is only fully revealed at birth. The parents were advised to be ready for anything.By the time of the delivery, the expectant parents, who were non-believers and unbaptized, had long accepted the reality presented to them and had fully prepared themselves according to the guidance received to welcome their special needs child with love. The staff at the Helsinki maternity hospital was also prepared to act accordingly.
However, the awaited baby was born completely healthy and beautiful, with a mouth like a rosebud. The diagnosis, the presence of which had been continuously confirmed both in documentation and verbally, was simply not there. Instead, there was a miracle of God. An answered prayer.
Prayers reached God, and God heard them! With deep gratitude to God, I can utter and give this testimony to you, dear friends, of how God physically takes part in our lives. God has His own plan and will; He knows the future, but being our Father, He desires to fulfill the prayers of His children and considers them. I sincerely thank all fellow intercessors! Both those I know and those I do not, who participated in the Holy Mass that was celebrated for the intention of my unborn grandchild’s health.
Personal Reflection on Medical Risks and Intercession
The truth behind this miracle is, on the surface, much simpler and more ordinary, without any excessive pathos. The doctors had calculated the child’s expected due date to be March 9. However, as the mother developed severe complications – a rhesus conflict and gestational diabetes requiring insulin injections – the doctors decided that carrying the pregnancy to full term was too risky for both mother and child, and the date for hospital admission and potential induction of labor was set for February 29.
The news I had long awaited—that my wish to become a grandmother had come true—was shared with me by the young couple when they visited me the summer before the birth. While still in the initial joy of the news, I heard my daughter tell me: it is a girl, and the doctors said she has a “cleft lip”… To my initial objections, she replied: “You are not a doctor!” That I am not a doctor was something I heard many, many times until Helmi was born. Yet, even though I am not a doctor and I did not know everything the doctors knew, I still knew what doctors mostly do not know or do—I am a grandmother, and I can pray.
First, I requested the offering and celebration of a Holy Mass from a priest at the cathedral, which the priest did at the earliest opportunity. At that stage, I had spoken very briefly about my path as a grandmother in general, and this specific matter in particular, only to that same priest, and later, that brief interaction with the bishop took place. I informed the bishop completely spontaneously, as I saw him and felt an inner prompting. We happened to exit the congregation’s John Paul II Hall at roughly the same time, where a gathering was taking place following the evening Holy Mass that began at 18:00. I recall there was a table set with wine, and the bishop was in a joyful, jovial mood, mingling with the crowd. For a moment, I even hesitated, wondering if it was appropriate to approach the bishop with my worries in such a setting. But as we left the gathering, I literally caught up with him near the gate and spoke to him, even though I saw he was in a hurry and a younger man was waiting for him near the gate, who overheard part of our conversation. I was the main speaker, speaking briefly—I poured out our worry and asked for his prayerful support. The fact that the bishop quickly understood the gravity of the matter and promised he would certainly pray was enough for me at that moment.
Every evening, I prayed with a specific intention, always using more or less the same words, seeking the intercession of the Servant of God, Archbishop Eduard Profittlich. While praying, I often looked him straight in the eyes. This eye contact was somehow extraordinarily important to me; perhaps I wanted him to see directly what I was feeling, and in his gaze, I found deep understanding. This frequent eye contact with the saint was also the reason why I do not know whether the “mark” on the holy card had always been there or not. In any case, one evening, when I had started my daily intention, I did not just look into his eyes, but noticed something I had never seen before—a defect ran across the saint’s right upper lip, somewhat resembling a cleft lip. This was a great comfort to me and a strengthening of my faith that if there had been anything wrong with my granddaughter’s mouth in the womb, it had been made whole! I could not be certain of it, but it gave me peace.
Labor began on February 21, and initially, it seemed like the baby would be born right away. However, the process began to drag on and carried over into the next day. Before the birth, my son-in-law sent me a photo of my daughter on the delivery table under an IV drip. At that moment, a premonition or fear gripped me—I was terrified of losing them both. I had to leave the company I was with immediately so that I could pray. Passing the priest, I only said quietly to him that something was wrong. I saw from his eyes that he understood. I rushed to the train where I could pray the entire way…
My daughter’s pregnancy was with me everywhere, every single second—and God intervened in my granddaughter’s life in the womb and resolved this situation in a beautiful and special way on February 22, 2024.
Postscript: The Exchange of Gifts and Sacred Knowledge
There is yet another special and meaningful postscript to this story that comes to mind in retrospect. Sometime later, after a serious health crisis of my own, I was at home recovering after being discharged from the hospital when I received visitors. A girlfriend arrived with a large bag of good things and helped me set a shared tea table, but a young male friend brought a special gift that had been waiting in his hands to be delivered for some time—a prayer card of the Madonna of Guadalupe. I was deeply touched that he had kept it and waited for the opportunity to hand it to me personally. Although that specific card is currently misplaced at home, I know I will find it eventually.
Right there at the tea table, I gave him something very precious in return—that very same photograph of the saint, the Servant of God Eduard, who had worked the miracle for us. And I shared a piece of knowledge with him that I do not regret in the slightest to this day. I mentioned the clear words I had heard from Marge, a church rules expert, while talking in the church courtyard in front of the church steps. She stated absolutely clearly that it is planned to officially grant him the status of patron saint of babies upon his canonization, as is customary in the Catholic tradition. Marge had agreed with me then that my granddaughter Helmi’s case was truly special, and she added meaningfully: “Who knows what will become of this child in the future!”
On that day of exchanging gifts, I passed that photograph of the saint forward with one clear wish—that through the saint’s intercession, this young person would always carry pure family happiness in life, which naturally ought to include children.
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