One Child

by Barbara Cameron

  “You bet,” Jason told her.

  “I wanted him to be more sensitive,” Kate muttered to Sarah. “But this is a bit much.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Sarah told her, chuckling.

  “I know I’ve been complaining about not feeling well, but I didn’t want the baby to come early.” Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes.

  “Two weeks isn’t that early,” Sarah reassured her. “And complaining doesn’t make a baby come sooner. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You could be in labor for a while.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Kate said in disbelief as another contraction rolled over her.

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I just mean that first births aren’t usually quick. Help could still come. You may have this baby in the hospital just like you want.”

  “Tell me about your friends,” Kate said breathlessly after the contraction passed. “You said you were with two of your friends when they had their babies.”

  “Emma had her baby at home,” Sarah said, remembering. “It was two years ago, winter, like now. We took turns, several of us, sitting with her, rubbing her back, doing some quilting, singing, reading to her.”

  “But she didn’t have any drugs for the pain.”

  “She was fine,” Sarah told her. “You will be too. I promise.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Kate groused.

  The words were like a blow. Kate must have seen their effect on Sarah, for she immediately looked appalled. “I’m sorry. That sounded so mean.”

  “No apologies, remember?” Sarah told her, trying to sound light. “Anyway, she was in labor for five hours, and we all had a wonderful time with her until a little visitor arrived. A girl.”

  “Where was her husband?” asked Kate.

  “He’d gone to an auction. But she’d planned to have the baby at home, so that’s what she did.”

  “She wanted it that way?” There was real disbelief in Kate’s voice.

  “I remember reading somewhere that 90 percent of the people walking around in the world right now were born at home.”

  Kate was shifting around, trying to get comfortable. Sarah rose and brought another pillow from the closet. “Let’s have you roll onto your side and put this under your tummy,” she suggested. “Then Jason can rub your back.”

  “Oh, that sounds good.”

  Grinning, Jason took the chair Sarah had vacated and started rubbing his wife’s back. “You’re doing good, baby.”

  Kate smiled. “What are you going to call me when the baby’s here?”

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “How’s that?”

  “Nice,” she said, smiling. She licked at her lips. “Can I have some water?”

  “I’ll get you some ice chips,” Sarah said. “That’s what they gave my friends when they got thirsty.”

  “Thanks. And, Sarah?”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “I hope David’s not feeling neglected.”

  Sarah could feel color rising up into her cheeks. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

  Once in the kitchen, Sarah made a beeline for the window. It was still a dismal gray outside, with snow smacking the windows as if someone were scooping up one big handful after another and throwing them at the panes.

  “Where are you now, David?” she whispered. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. “God, please keep him safe,” she prayed. “Please guide his steps.”

  She had to keep busy or she’d make herself crazy with worry. Pulling out a plastic bag, she filled it with ice and slapped it on the kitchen table to break the cubes into small pieces to put into a bowl.

  When she returned to the room, Jason was using his watch to time a contraction. “Four minutes,” he mouthed to Sarah.

  It was going faster than she expected, maybe because Kate had really been in labor for some time, she thought. Handing the bowl to Jason, she cautioned him to feed Kate a few pieces at a time so she wouldn’t get uncomfortable and have to get up to use the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, Kate cried out. “Oh no,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I think my water just broke.”

  “No problem,” Sarah assured her. “That’s why I brought more sheets. It’s all part of the process.”

  “But the mattress . . .”

  “It has a plastic protector on it. Sometimes when we have church service, mothers bring their children in here to nap. Let’s get you up and change the sheets, see if I need to get you a fresh nightgown.”

  But when Sarah gathered the soiled sheets up to carry them out of the room, she saw that they were not only wet but streaked with blood. Her stomach pitched. Being with Emma and her other friend who’d given birth had prepared her for the eventuality, but she hadn’t been responsible for them as she was now. A midwife and other women, older ones who’d given birth themselves and were experienced with such things, had been present.

  Then, too, one of them could have run to a telephone down the road or driven in a buggy for help. There hadn’t been a snowstorm, cutting off contact with the outside world.

  David, please find help quickly, she prayed. Please.

  David used a rock to pound the sign into the frozen ground in his front yard. Then, hunching his shoulders against the cold wind, he slogged through the snowdrifts, relying on memory more than sight. He gave a moment’s thought to getting Ned, but it might take too much time to go to the barn for him. That might give Sarah a chance to come out and try to stop him.

  He wasn’t happy about leaving without telling her first. They always talked over big decisions. But it hadn’t been a decision at all when it came down to it. She would realize that after she stopped being upset.

  Neither of them wanted Kate and Jason to lose their baby.

  And he knew the area so well, he told himself. He knew exactly how far away the closest houses were, where it was best to seek help. He’d be fine.

  He was determined to be, for himself, for Sarah, and for that unborn baby.

  Sarah had made him think about this situation in a way he hadn’t, about the way they’d suddenly had these guests at this time of year . . . at this time in their lives. Perhaps she was right that there was something very meaningful about them appearing like this. Was it a message from God? He didn’t know. He was simply supposed to trust.

  David trudged on, staying in the middle of what he knew was the paved road. If he wasn’t careful and strayed too close to the edge of it, he could trip over a rock or step in a hole covered by the deceptively benign-looking mounds of snow.

  The telephone shanty that several families shared was down the road. Even though there was no reception for the cell phones, David hoped that regular phone service had been restored.

  He fumbled with the lock on the door, finally pulling off his thick gloves and stuffing them in his pockets to try with his bare hands. But the cold made his fingers feel thick and awkward, and the lock was obviously frozen. Picking up a rock, he tried to bash it open, knowing his neighbors would forgive his destruction because of the emergency. Still, he couldn’t gain entry.

  Admitting defeat, he pulled his gloves from his pockets, but the wind whipped them away. He chased them across the road, skidding and nearly falling. They bounced merrily ahead of him like leaves on an autumn wind.

  The effort of chasing them in the wind and snow wasn’t worth it, he decided. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked toward the nearest house. It wasn’t a long walk, maybe a mile. But fighting the wind, it felt longer, like it must have for Jason when he was trying to find someone to help him on a dark, snowy night. Climbing the stairs, he knocked on the door of John Zook. After a few minutes of knocking, David remembered that John and his wife had gone to visit their daughter in the next town the week before. He’d wasted valuable time.

  He trudged another half mile. The Lapps were home, but they, like Sarah’s parents, were suffering from the flu that seemed to be going around. David refused Levi’s offer to go with him
to find help, insisting that he return to his bed.

  David had made the walk down this road many times, but never in such bad weather. Walking against the wind was tiring him. How Jason had done it the night before he didn’t know. And then he shook his head at the thought. Of course Jason had made it. He’d had the survival of his wife and his baby on his shoulders.

  As David himself did now.

  The phrase about being his brother’s keeper came to mind. It wasn’t too much to do what he could for Jason. In the brief time he’d known the Englischman, David had come to see him as basically a gut man who tried in his own way to do the right thing. If the situations were reversed, David felt that Jason would be looking for help for Sarah.

  His feet felt like blocks of ice. Heavy blocks of ice. How was it possible to get so cold so fast, he wondered, then shook his head. Hadn’t he chided Jason last night for not taking hypothermia and frostbite seriously?

  The gut news was that the sky was lightening and it seemed the snow was stopping. Encouraged, he quickened his steps.

  David climbed the stairs to the Stoltzfus house and banged on the door.

  Mary Stoltzfus opened the door and stared at him. “David! What are you doing out in this weather? Come in, come in.”

  Brushing the worst of the snow from the shoulders of his coat, he stepped inside and shut the door. It was then that he noticed that Mary’s foot was encased in a cast.

  “What happened?”

  “I slipped and broke my ankle last week. Now, tell me why you’re out in such weather.”

  “We need help. An Englisch couple got stranded at our house, and the woman is in labor. I couldn’t get into the telephone shanty.”

  Mary clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Might not have helped anyway,” she said pragmatically. “The lines often go down at such times.”

  David reached for the door handle. “I need to get on my way, see if I can raise some help.”

  “Try the Hostetlers next door.”

  Nodding, David left the house and trudged toward the Hostetler house.

  He brushed his hand over his face. He thought he could see lights coming at him in the gray day. He blinked against the falling snow. No, he wasn’t imagining it. There were two headlights beaming through the snow, a big blade of a snowplow approaching.

  He let out a shout of joy, of praise to God for answered prayer. “Here!” he shouted, running out into the middle of the road, slipping and sliding. “Here!” and waved his arms.

  The snowplow slowed and then stopped. David ran up to the driver’s side.

  “We have a woman in labor at my house!” he called up to him. “Can you call for help?”

  “Sure thing. Get in.”

  David ran around the other side of the vehicle and climbed inside. Shivering, he gave directions to his house while the driver radioed for paramedics.

  Home had never looked so gut, David thought as he climbed down a few minutes later and ran for his front door.

  It felt like he’d been gone looking for help for hours, but he knew it hadn’t been. Maybe Kate was still in labor and Sarah hadn’t had to help her deliver. Maybe he was still in time.

  He hoped and prayed that all was well. God’s will, he repeated over and over. Surely he would help bring this child safely into the world on Christmas.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This baby’s really coming!” Kate gasped.

  Sarah grinned at her. “You’re right.”

  Jason mopped his wife’s perspiring brow. “She’s always right.”

  “Sarah, you’re my witness,” Kate said, then gasped as another contraction swept over her like a tide.

  “I’ll put it in writing, counselor,” her husband told her as he checked his watch. “Contractions are a minute apart.”

  The more it became a possibility that they might have to deliver the baby themselves, the calmer the three of them had seemed to become, as if they’d entered into a pact to do whatever was necessary, Sarah thought. Help wasn’t coming yet, and they were going to have to rely on each other to bring this baby into the world safely.

  Sarah watched Jason close his eyes, and his lips moved soundlessly.

  Now that her contraction had passed, Kate focused on her husband. “Are you trying to take a nap?”

  Jason opened his eyes. “Of course not.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I was just saying a prayer for you and the baby.”

  Kate immediately burst into tears. “That is so sweet,” she sobbed.

  “Going into the last stage?” Jason asked Sarah quietly, and she nodded.

  “Kate, how about I get behind you in bed and help support you like we learned in the class? I think it’s time, don’t you?”

  “That—that’d be good.”

  He kicked off his shoes, helped her sit up a bit more, and slid behind her in the bed. “There, that better?”

  “Yeah.” Kate took the tissue Sarah handed her and clutched at her hand. “You said to expect the best.”

  Another contraction began, and the three of them watched its ripple across Kate’s abdomen. Another followed, fast, and another and another.

  “I think he’s coming!” Kate cried. “I have to push!”

  “Pant through it,” Jason counseled.

  “I need to push!” she cried. “I need to push! Sarah, can you see the head?”

  Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as she checked the progress of birth and saw the top of the baby’s head. “Yes!” Awed, she looked up at them. “Yes, I can see the head!”

  “Can you get him out?”

  Sarah shook her head. “It’s best to let him come naturally.”

  “It hurts!” Kate clutched at Jason’s hand, and he winced at the pressure.

  “Uh, Kate, I need that hand,” he said with a grimace. “Don’t break my fingers.”

  “I’m not doing this again without an epidural!”

  “We’re not ever doing this again,” Jason promised fervently.

  “It won’t hurt for long, and you’ll have your baby, Kate.” Sarah checked again, and her heart started pounding.

  The baby’s head emerged. “Kate, he’s coming! You can push now!”

  Kate pushed, cried out, and then pushed again, and suddenly Sarah was holding a slippery, squirming baby in her hands.

  “He’s here!” Sarah exclaimed as the baby wailed and waved his arms in protest at leaving his mother’s warm body. He scrunched his eyes shut at the bright light, then opened them and looked around.

  Trying to stay calm, Sarah followed the steps the book had recommended, checking that the baby’s airway was clear, that there was nothing in his mouth or nose to obstruct his breathing. He felt so tiny, but in reality, she thought he might weigh seven or eight pounds.

  Grabbing one of the clean towels she’d placed on the bed, Sarah wrapped him in it quickly, before he could get chilled. And then she put him in Kate’s outstretched arms.

  “Oh, he’s so beautiful!” Kate said, staring at him with wide eyes. “Jason, look at him! He’s got your nose.”

  “And your dark hair,” Jason told her. His hand shook as he reached out to stroke his son’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Sarah saw tears in his eyes. He leaned over and kissed Kate. “I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

  Tears slid down her cheeks. “I love you, and I’m proud of you too.” She lay back against him, looking exhausted but radiant. “I can’t believe we did it,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we did it.”

  As much as she wanted to watch the miracle before her, Sarah returned her attention to Kate. The book made it clear that the danger to the mother and the baby wasn’t over yet.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, Kate grimaced and looked at Sarah. “Oh, I’m having another pain! I’m not having another baby, am I?”

  Smiling, Sarah shook her head. “It’s not another baby. It’s the placenta, remember? The afterbirth.”

  Just a
s she’d done with delivering the baby, she let nature take its course and watched it slide out without pulling on it. Another worry she could let go of, Sarah thought.

  Jason looked at her, concerned. “Is she all right? She’s not bleeding too much or anything?”

  So he knew the risks just as she did. “She’s doing fine.” She paused and met his eyes. “You both are.”

  “Should we cut the cord?”

  Sarah hesitated and glanced back at the doorway. It didn’t appear that help was coming. She nodded and reached for the scissors she’d disinfected earlier. “Here, the new daddy gets to do the honors.”

  She told him what the book had said, and he accomplished the task with surprisingly steady hands. Afterward, Jason held the baby while Sarah helped Kate into a clean nightgown and tried with a minimum of moving her to remove soiled sheets and place new ones beneath her. And then, when she saw that there was nothing else she could do for them, Sarah left the room so the new parents could have some private moments with their son.

  Now that she was alone, the tears could come. Sinking down into a kitchen chair, Sarah cried. The tears she shed were tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of awe at being present at a miracle, the wonder of a new life coming into the world. She had never felt so close to God as at that moment, helping to bring one of his children into the world. There was no pride, only gratitude that he had helped her at every step. David had said that he would, that if God had given her the desire to help, that he’d give her the ability as well.

  Surely this was a time she would not forget for the rest of her life. She whispered a prayer of gratitude for the precious gift of being witness to the birth, a request for Kate and the baby’s health and safety. All was right and gut here in her home, here in God’s kingdom on earth. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  Calm now, she went to the sink and washed her hands. And then she went upstairs and knelt before the hope chest she kept at the foot of her bed.

  From it she drew the quilt she’d lovingly sewn those first months when she’d carried her baby under her heart. She stroked the tiny squares of fabric and hesitated for only a moment. Then she reached in and took out a tiny cotton nightgown, an undershirt that wasn’t much bigger than her hand, a package of newborn disposable diapers, and a box of cleansing wipes. Carrying them downstairs, she knocked on the bedroom door.