For this deeply spiritual family, faith was the only choice. Maria had far too much living left to do. She was a stay-at-home mom, happily married to Antonio, a 29-year-old construction worker. The Colton, California, couple was raising three beautiful girls—Marisa, 5, Blanca, 4, and Adahli, 3. The pair had always dreamed of having a big family with five children, a dream that meant everything to Maria. “She lived for her daughters,” says Maria’s sister, Adela Hernandez. “She loved dressing them alike, styling their hair and throwing big parties for them.” Maria was thrilled when she became pregnant again, especially after an ultrasound revealed she was carrying twins.

But her joy was replaced by a strange feeling of foreboding two weeks after the ultrasound. She had an eerie dream about seeing her own dead body, but brushed it off as just a strange nightmare. There were happier things to think about, like her cousin’s 15th birthday celebration, know as a quinceanera in Latino culture. Before she left with Antonio and her mother for the four-hour drive to her cousin’s party in Temecula, she talked with her sister, Sylvia Hernandez. “If anything happens to me, I know you’ll take good care of my kids,” Maria told her. Stunned, Sylvia asked what she meant. “Well, you never know,” Maria continued. “Something could happen to me with this pregnancy.” Sylvia reassured her she was probably just nervous because she was expecting twins. “You’ll be fine,” she said lovingly. “We’re going to grow old together.”

By 10 p.m., Maria was not fine. She’d been joking with family members at the party, but on the drive home she was suddenly struck by a skull-splitting headache. “I’m scared,” she told Antonio. Maria was too ill to continue the drive home, so they stopped along the way at her uncle’s house in San Clemente where Maria rested in a spare bedroom. Soon the excruciating pain was followed by intense nausea. Then it became difficult to breathe. “Antonio, Antonio,” she called faintly in a slurred voice. Her husband and mother rushed to her side. They found her slumped on the floor against a dresser, her head hanging limply to one side. It was just after midnight, and they frantically called 911. Luckily, paramedics arrived quickly. Two of them lifted Maria’s limp body and placed her on a gurney. Just before she lost consciousness, Maria said weakly: “My babies. Take care of my babies.”

The ambulance rushed her to a local hospital, where doctors stabilized her and took a CT scan and an angiogram. The results showed Maria had been bleeding in her brain, but it had stopped. She was then transported to Mission Hospital Regional Medical Center, where doctors removed a blood clot from her brain. In the process they discovered a tangle of blood vessels, called an arteriovenous malformation, or AVM, which had ruptured. Like Maria, about 500,000 people in the United States and Canada are born with malformed or tangled arteries or veins in their brains. They usually never know it—unless they have a sudden onset of the most severe headache they’ve ever had (which indicates a rupture), a seizure, or, more rarely, paralysis or loss of sensation in the face, arm or leg.

Maria was then taken by helicopter to UCLA Medical Center for more specialized care. There, doctors performed a procedure to partially plug up vessels in her brain that were at risk for starting to bleed again. Although the operation was a success, the rupture had caused severe brain damage. “The chances that Maria will survive this and recover aren’t good,” Dr. Frazee told the family. Tearfully bargaining with God, Antonio prayed: “Please save her, and take me in her place.”

When Maria’s blood pressure began fluctuating widely after the AVM ruptured, it placed the twins at risk for developing devastating bleeds in their brains that could lead to mental retardation, cerebral palsy, blindness, deafness—even death. And the twins were still only in their 24th week of development. “The older they got, the better their chances of survival,” says Susan M. Gray, M.D., then a UCLA neonatologist. “But would they be vegetative—not having good brain function? Would we be sending homes babies every bit as damaged as their mom? That was our big concern. We couldn’t know until they were born.”

Over the next 10 days, Maria remained in a coma, and doctors told the family there was little hope she would improve. “Let’s be fair,” said a doctor. “Would Maria want to live this way? Would she want to be in a coma for life?” For the first time, Antonio began to wonder whether keeping Maria alive by artificial means was truly best for her. Finally, the family decided to have a priest perform last rites in case the doctors were right.

Father Paul Lannan came to Maria’s bedside that night. Her husband, mother, siblings and best friend tearfully formed a circle around her bed and held hands, including Maria’s. Father Lannan led them in a prayer, asking the saints to welcome her to heaven. He placed his hand on Maria’s forehead. “Pray for her,” he said.

Just then, Maria opened her eyes. Stunned, her family crowded around her. “We’re here! We’re here! We love you!” they exclaimed, feeling ecstatic. Maria shook her head slightly and closed her eyes again. “That was our sign from God,” recalls Sylvia. “We knew then we had to be patient and give her more time to heal.” When the family told the nurses, they weren’t impressed. It was just a reflex, a nurse explained. “We didn’t believe them,” says Sylvia. No one could shake the family’s faith and hope.

Two weeks later, on May 11, Dr. Frazee was making his morning rounds at the hospital. As on every day over the previous weeks, he stopped in to see Maria. Each morning he’d ask her to move her arms, legs or fingers as part of his exam. “Every morning it was always the same,” Dr. Frazee recalls. “Nothing happened.” On this particular morning, he asked Maria to move her right hand. And she did. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, he repeated his command. Once again, she moved her right hand. “It was a total surprise,” says Dr. Frazee. “I have no idea why she would have suddenly awakened from this coma.” Was it the miracle Maria’s family had been praying for?” “In my experience, it was a miracle,” says Dr. Frazee, “because I certainly can’t explain it.”

Her family felt overjoyed at the news. “It was the Lord, faith and prayer that saved Maria,” says her sister Lorraine Hernandez. Their faith became contagious: “Throughout the hospital, you heard the word, ‘miracle,’ over and over again,” says Dr. Gray. “And doctors don’t normally talk about miracles. We like scientific explanations. But this made us reevaluate. Certainly there must be a Higher Being because there just wasn’t any other good explanation.”

Meanwhile, Maria continued to amaze her doctors. After surgeons inserted a shunt into her brain to drain excess fluid on June 8, she was able to follow more and more complex requests. “When you said, ‘Show me two fingers,’ she held up two fingers,” recalls Dr. Frazee. “It was exciting.”

But the excitement faded a week later, when Maria went into labor and one unborn twin’s heart began beating abnormally. It was a sign that the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen—which could be damaging or even fatal. Brian Koos, M.D., a UCLA obstetrician-gynecologist and a specialist in maternal fetal medicine, had to act fast; he needed to perform an emergency cesarean section to rescue the ailing baby. Luckily, Maria was now in her 32nd week of pregnancy, making the odds good that the twin girls would survive. Still, their neonatologist worried they might be born brain damaged.

The C-section went smoothly: Arizandy Leanne was born first, followed by Brianna Angela seconds later. The twin girls immediately cried at delivery—a sign of good health. “Maria, you have two beautiful girls,” Dr. Koos said. Maria was still too ill to respond, but her mother cried tears of joy. Tests later revealed the babies had normal reflexes and good Apgar scores, which measure vital signs.

Within two weeks family members, nurses and Dr. Gray gathered around Maria’s bed when she was well enough to hold her babies for the first time. “There was instant love on Maria’s face,” recalls her sister Sylvia.

Word of the miraculous mom and newborn twins spread quickly, and by the time Maria was released from the hospital on July 28, she was a local celebrity. Hospital staff tearfully waved good-bye and wished her good luck as a nurse wheeled her on a gurney toward a hospital exit. As always, Maria was surrounded by family: Her three older little girls tagged behind their father, who pushed a blue double stroller holding the twins.

Maria was taken to Loma Linda University Medical Center for rehabilitation, where she began her courageous battle to become whole again. It was a slow, agonizing ordeal to relearn everyday actions. Because the damage to her brain was in an area responsible for coordination, at first she couldn’t even hold a spoon. It took three months to be able to feed herself. Just sitting up in bed took a month of hard work. Unable to speak, she used sign language to say, “I love you” to her family. “Many patients get to this point and give up,” says Dr. Frazee. “But not Maria.”

After three months of steady strides at the hospital, she went home to a joyous celebration on October 28. For over a year she has spent 12 hours a week doing intensive physical, occupational and speech therapy at Loma Linda, where she continues to receive physical therapy. Although she still uses a wheelchair, Maria can stand up. She has learned how to write her name, brush her hair, put on her shoes, and—most important of all—hold her babies. She can talk, but her speech is sometimes difficult to understand. One sentence, however, always comes out crystal clear: One day I will walk. “And I believe her,” says sister Lorraine. “She’s determined to do everything she used to do. It shows her courage and the love she has for her daughters.”

That love was evident on a recent afternoon. The three older girls got into a squabble, as sisters often do. Showing a little playful discipline, Maria took a slipper in one hand. “You can run, but you can’t hide!” she told the girls. With Antonio pushing her wheelchair, she chased them through the house, amid squeals of laughter. Side-by-side in swings, the seven-month-old twins watched in fascination.

Faith gave this family a second chance—something they will never take for granted. “When I look at the twins and my sister,” says Adela, “I know it was all a gift from God.”