A Simple Amish Christmas

by Vannetta Chapman

  “How are you, Faith?”

  “Not so well. Danki for coming.” Another spasm hit her, but where she should have cried out with the pain, she only squeezed her eyes shut, curled into a ball on her side, and whimpered like a pup in need of its mother.

  Samuel reached for her wrist, noted her pulse, which was weak. He also checked her for fever and was relieved when he found none.

  “Have the pains been this intense for two days, Faith?”

  “No.” She breathed deeply, tried to pull in enough air to answer his question. “The worst started this morning.”

  Samuel looked to Aaron for confirmation.

  “Ya, she’s right. The first day was just an ache where she’d hold her lower back. She was still up walking around the house, cleaning and preparing for the boppli. Then this morning, she hollered out and collapsed in the front room by the rocker. I had to pick her up and carry her—she couldn’t walk.”

  “I need to check you, Faith.” Samuel laid out his supplies on the nightstand. “Aaron, I want you to start boiling water— lots of it. And I’ll also need more light in here.”

  “There’s another lantern in—”

  “Bring it.”

  Samuel began to gently turn Faith on to her back, when another spasm hit her, this one harder than the last. He could see the muscles across her stomach contract.

  She curled again into a fetal position and gasped, and tears streamed down her face.

  Samuel placed his hand on her stomach, waited for the muscles to relax. The minute they did, he moved her on to her back, positioned the room’s single lamp at the foot of the bed.

  “Have you lost the boppli’s water, Faith?”

  “A few hours ago.” Her voice was a broken whisper.

  She dozed while he did a vaginal exam, confirming what he’d suspected the moment he walked in the room. The infant was in the wrong position. She wouldn’t be pushing him out unless Samuel could turn him a bit, or convince her to go to the Englisch hospital for a Caesarean birth.

  Aaron walked back into the room with an additional lamp as Samuel re-covered Faith with the quilts.

  Samuel kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Faith. She’d need every ounce of strength she could find for the next few hours. Even these small naps between contractions were her body’s way of preparing her for what needed to be done.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Aaron. The baby is positioned wrong.”

  “That’s why she’s having so much trouble?”

  “Ya.”

  “Then we should pray.”

  “Praying would be a gut thing; so would taking her to a hospital.”

  “No. Faith wants to have the baby here.”

  “I know she does.” Samuel stepped closer, fighting to keep his voice even and patient. “She might not make it, Aaron. You might lose Faith and the baby. She’s weak, and the baby can’t come this way.”

  Aaron put both hands into his hair, tugged, then turned and walked to the wall. Placing his palms against it, he stood there a moment, head bowed. Finally he pivoted, looked Samuel in the eye.

  “There’s no easy way to the Englisch hospital, even if she’d agree to go. Roads are all snowed under, and besides she can’t ride in a buggy this way. No phones—you know I don’t abide phones here. What else can we do?”

  Samuel looked at the exhausted woman on the bed, woman and child.

  Why this night?

  Why during the worst storm of the year, one so like the other?

  He would not lose another woman and child to a snowy, winter night.

  “She’s a few weeks early, so I believe the baby is small. If I can turn the baby even a little, there’s no reason it can’t be born posterior first.” As he spoke, resolve steeled his voice like a pond freezing over. “But I’m going to need a few things.”

  “Anything. Tell me what it is, and we’ll get it for you.”

  “More hot water, towels, one more lantern—”

  Aaron must have thought he was done, because he was already walking out of the room, when Samuel realized what would help him more than anything else, what could make this interminable night bearable—and she was less than twenty minutes away.

  A nurse.

  “Before you bring any of those other things, help Micah hitch up the buggy again. Send him to fetch me Annie Weaver.” He walked across the room, grasped the young man by the shoulders. “Tell her there’s no time for Adam to hitch up his buggy. She needs to come with Micah. She needs to hurry.”

  Annie had just fallen into a deep sleep.

  She began to dream immediately—one of those dreams that made no sense but was filled with images. Warm sunny days, her dat’s fields, sheep all around her, pressing up against her legs. She bent down to touch one and instead was grasping spring flowers.

  A knocking echoed through the air, and that made her laugh.

  How could there be a knocking sound in the middle of a field? She looked around for the woodpecker but saw no large trees.

  Then she was tumbling, tumbling down a big hill, and she was a child again. Charity and Reba were beside her—and they all squealed as they rolled down the meadow. She could smell the fresh grass, feel the warm wind brush her face.

  It practically called her name.

  “Annie, you need to wake up. Annie. Can you hear me?”

  Blinking, she looked into her mother’s eyes.

  Spring vanished as lantern light threw shadows across the bedroom floor.

  “What is it? Was iss letz? Is it Dat?” She struggled to sit up, throwing off the comforters and reaching for her robe.

  “Your father’s fine. Samuel has sent for you.”

  Annie froze, one arm in her robe, one arm out.

  “Samuel?” She peeked out the window, saw darkness, and plopped back down on the bed. Perhaps she was still dreaming.

  “It’s Faith Blauch—she’s having her baby, and it’s not going well.”

  Annie stood and began throwing on clothes as her mother explained the small amount Micah had been able to share. Within moments, she was dressed, down the stairs, and pulling together her own supplies.

  “Don’t you think Samuel will have all he needs?”

  “I don’t know, Mamm, but there’ll be no second chance to come back for more.” Closing the quilted bag, she gave her mother a quick hug, then stepped out into the night and into Micah’s buggy.

  They practically flew across the snow, and it was as if she hadn’t awakened, as if she were once again tumbling down the hill in her dreams.

  Except the warmth of spring—the wildflowers and laughter—all of that was gone. In its place, winter’s cold gripped them. Instead of being a kind playing a child’s game, she was a woman, doing what God had equipped her to do.

  She prayed it would be enough.

  She prayed for Samuel as he ministered to Faith even now.

  And prayed for an infant, struggling to be born.

  11

  Micah hurried to the barn to bed the horse, and Annie flew up the steps of Aaron and Faith’s home.

  The living room was deserted, but the bedroom door stood open. She heard voices coming from that direction, followed by a low whimpering sound.

  Annie strode in, pulling off her coat and scarf as she did.

  Aaron Blauch looked nearly as exhausted as his fraa—nearly, but not quite.

  Faith lay spent in the old, oak bed. She didn’t open her eyes as Annie entered the room.

  “Annie, danki for coming.” Samuel exchanged a quick look with her—a look conveying more than a thousand words could have. Faith and the baby were in danger.

  “Of course, Samuel. Aaron, would you like to take a break for a minute?”

  Aaron had been so attentive to his fraa, he seemed confused to glance up and find Annie in his room. She touched his shoulder, nudged him gently from the bed.

  “I’m here now, Aaron. Maybe you could go and make us some hot tea.”

  “Ya. I suppose I co
uld if you’re sure you don’t need me here.”

  “Micah’s putting the horse in the barn. You might check on him as well.”

  “Should I… what I mean is, would it be all right for me to leave for that long?” His voice sounded like a broken and wounded thing. Annie wondered how long they had been at this, what it had taken for the man to sit here and watch his wife suffer so, see his child fight to be born.

  “It will take Annie and me a few minutes to ready things, Aaron.” Samuel turned him toward the bedroom door, coaxed him into leaving the room. “Go to the barn and check on Micah. We need him in here boiling water, sterilizing instruments. And Annie’s right—strong tea would be wunderbaar as well.”

  Aaron nodded, looked back once at his wife, then left the room. Annie waited until she heard the front door shut before she began asking questions.

  “What’s her status?”

  “Blood pressure is low, pulse weak. She’s been in labor at least forty-eight hours. Water broke early in the evening.”

  Annie bathed the young woman’s face while Samuel spoke. Though Faith murmured softly, she didn’t wake until the next pain claimed her—then she moaned and curled onto her side.

  “Pains are approximately three minutes apart.” Samuel knelt beside the bed. “Faith, don’t push. Can you hear me? I don’t want you to push the baby. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Annie pulled Faith’s hair back from her face, rubbed the lower part of her back where her muscles had grown rigid.

  “Breathe out like I showed you. Remember? One, two, three, four…” Samuel counted, and Annie rubbed until the spasm passed.

  Though tears were tracking down her cheeks, Faith immediately fell into a light sleep once it was over.

  “Did your training include an ob/gyn rotation?” Samuel rose from the bedside, walked over to the dresser.

  “Ya.”

  “Faith’s baby is breech.”

  “What type of breech?”

  Samuel had been laying out his supplies, but he jerked his head up at her question, his eyes met hers, and something passed between them.

  From the look in his eyes, it seemed to Annie as if for the first time he realized she wasn’t a young girl but a registered nurse. Surely he knew that, since he had sent for her, but her question seemed to catch him by surprise nonetheless.

  “Frank breech.”

  “If you use forceps—”

  “I’d rather use my hands. I’m not as comfortable with the forceps.”

  “There’s no chance of moving her to a hospital?”

  “I tried earlier—between the weather and the closeness of her pains, I think we should do this now.”

  Annie nodded, began looking through the stacks of sheets Faith had piled neatly in the corner. Picking the oldest, she tore some in strips, tied them around the top corner posts of the bed, and went in search of extra pillows to put at the bottom.

  By the time they had the bedroom ready, Aaron and Micah were back.

  Annie heard Samuel explaining to both men what was about to happen. When Aaron walked back into the room, he looked better for having had a few minutes away—afraid though, still very afraid. Annie stepped over to him and put both hands on his shoulders.

  “Aaron, we are all going to help your fraa.”

  “It’s been a long night.”

  “Ya. I’m sure it has and waiting is hard, but now things are about to move very quickly. I need to go and help Samuel scrub up. I want you to stay beside Faith until I come back. Do not let her push. Remind her to breathe like Samuel showed her.”

  She waited until Aaron nodded his understanding, then she rushed to the kitchen. Micah stood beside the stove, a large wooden spoon in his hand, and all the burners covered with pots. He looked for all the world like a master chef. Too bad water was the sole item on his menu.

  Annie was a little embarrassed to realize she was hungry.

  Patting him on the shoulder as she walked past, she murmured, “Warms towels too, Micah. We’ll want to wrap the boppli right away.”

  She moved next to Samuel.

  Some of the tiredness had left his eyes, and he actually smiled as he rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. Bottles of disinfectant sat beside the sink, along with two brushes and a bottle of soap. He’d laid out a surgical gown and mask.

  They both realized in addition to helping Faith’s boppli into the world, her next biggest risk would be infection.

  Infections were rare with home births, but Faith would be tearing, and they’d have to take extra precautions.

  “Room enough for two at this sink?” Annie asked.

  “Actually, there is.”

  She stood beside him, scrubbed while he scrubbed, shoulder-to-shoulder, sort of. A full foot and a half shorter, her shoulder didn’t actually reach his.

  Then she helped drape him, standing on tiptoe to tie the scrubs at his neck. When she pulled the mask up and over his mouth, his eyes twinkled back at her.

  “Little Annie Weaver—all grown up.”

  “Surely you are not teasing me about my height, Samuel Yoder.”

  “I wouldn’t even think about teasing you.” Holding his hands up and away, he turned and walked back into the bedroom.

  She followed him, reminded Micah, “Keep an ear out for us, Micah, and keep the water boiling nice and hot.”

  He nodded and looked a tad less frightened as he turned back to the stove.

  Hopefully their bantering had eased some of his tension. It had certainly eased hers. Samuel would do his best, and that was all anyone would expect from him. As she stepped back into the bedroom, she prayed it would be enough.

  Aaron knelt beside Faith, counting.

  Faith’s eyes were wide open now, reminding Annie for all the world of a frightened deer.

  When the contraction had passed, Aaron wiped the sweat from his face. “That one was worse. It was longer than the others.”

  “Ach!” Faith cried out instantly.

  “All right, Faith. Listen to me.” Samuel continued to hold his hands up, but stood near her. “The pains are closer now, because your boppli is ready. Annie and Aaron and I are going to help you, but it will be hard work. You need to concentrate on exactly what I say. Can you do that?”

  Faith nodded, clenching her teeth together as tears streamed down her face. This time when the contraction passed, she panted instead of falling asleep.

  “Quickly, Aaron.” Annie showed him how to position himself behind his wife. “I want Faith to be able to push back against you.”

  “Faith, hold on to these straps, honey.” Gently guiding her hands to the loops of sheet she’d tied to the headboard, Annie let her fingers linger on the woman’s wrist, noted her pulse was stronger than when she’d first arrived.

  “We’re at ten centimeters,” Samuel confirmed.

  “Here comes another…” Faith gasped as the pain rippled through her.

  “Last one to breathe through.” Samuel positioned himself near the foot of the bed while Annie placed Faith’s feet against the pillows she’d stacked there. “When this one eases, I’m going to turn your baby a little, Faith.”

  Annie peeked out into the living room. “Be ready with those warm towels, Micah.”

  Moving to the bed, she placed her hands on top of Faith’s stomach.

  “Eight, nine, ten…” Aaron’s voice in his wife’s ear was as soft as a prayer.

  “Her contraction’s easing, Samuel.” Annie kept her hands on top of Faith’s stomach.

  “All right,” Samuel sounded as calm as if he were considering what to plant in his field next spring. “Pant, Faith. I need one more minute.”

  “Another contraction should start… now.”

  “Push, Faith. Push into your bottom.” Samuel stood up, his right hand completely inside Faith, guiding her baby, his left now on top of her knee.

  In that moment it was as if Faith let out all the energy she’d been conserving for two days, or possibly for nine mont
hs. In that moment Faith somehow knew her child’s life depended on what she was able to do.

  “Excellent. Very gut.” Samuel’s voice was smooth, soft, filled with wonder. “We have a baby boy. One more push, Faith.”

  Annie looked down, saw the boppli’s bottom, then his body, his hands raised up and cradling his beautiful face, and a mass of wet hair.

  Hurrying to the door, she grabbed a warm towel from Micah’s outstretched arms, then placed it under the baby at the same second Samuel lifted him clear. Annie used the DeLee’s suction to clean out his air passage, and his first joyful cry pierced the room. Samuel lifted him high so Aaron and Faith could see their son.

  Faith began crying, and Aaron dropped his head to her face, kissing her and speaking to her softly.

  At the same moment that Annie placed the baby on Faith’s stomach, Samuel reached forward and clamped the cord.

  Holding the scissors up, he asked, “Who wants to do the honors?”

  Silence filled the room, then Faith nodded and Aaron smiled. “We’d like Annie to do it.”

  Even as she accepted the tool from Samuel and looked into his dark eyes, she knew it was a moment she would never forget.

  The first time she’d severed the sacred bond between a mother and child.

  She cut the umbilical cord and glanced again at Samuel, a smile spreading across her face.

  Something passed between them then, a current of life as their hands rested on Faith’s newborn child. For a moment all that existed was the two of them and this precious miracle.

  Samuel blinked, turned back to the new mother and father.

  “A few more pushes, Faith. Then Miss Annie will have your little boppli all cleaned up and ready for you to hold.”

  Annie took the babe over to her makeshift newborn center, while Samuel helped Faith deliver the placenta.

  She administered the drops to his eyes and performed the apgar test—another first for her, at least in a home setting. Young Blauch scored a solid seven—a gut score, especially given his difficult entry into the world.

  When Samuel glanced her way, she held up seven fingers and though he still wore his mask, she saw the smile by the way his eyes brightened.