In his sixth month, Terry became ill and lost a little weight, which was quite a switch for the rapidly growing boy. Finally he was switched to formula, and though there was no way to be sure if the formula had been part of the solution, from then on he began to get over the colic. It was a relief to get a proper night’s sleep again.
As Terry left colic and illness behind, motherhood became the wonder of childish accomplishments that Janette had dreamed it would be. Terry was energetic and advanced in many ways. With pride Janette pulled out his baby book and recorded each new milestone: when he began to talk, to walk, and to interact with his world around him, like standing little animals on his high-chair tray, and stacking his building blocks. Following Ma-ma and Da-da, two of his first words were “tractor” and “flower.” A rather unusual combination, but Grandpa Oke sold tractors and Mommy loved flowers.
One hot summer Sunday, Terry was sick. Janette knew he had a fever but she had no one to substitute as teacher for her class, so she was forced to attend church anyway. After Sunday school he seemed even worse, so she decided to take him home.
Too late she realized that Edward had the only car keys and the service was about to begin. Edward was already on the platform and there was no way to get his attention without disturbing the entire service. So there was nothing for her to do but to walk home, carrying her sick baby.
The long blocks stretched on and on as Janette juggled Terry first against one shoulder, then the other. The day was so hot, and Terry, who quickly fell asleep, was heavy. She was sure she would never make it home. Finally she arrived, arms aching, face flushed. Terry, with medication, soon got over his “bug,” as babies so quickly do.
Baby Terry walked at eight months. Before he was two he recognized many songs and choruses, could name all the animals in his picture books, and could count to ten. Janette quietly glowed with pride. She thought he was pretty smart indeed.
Besides all the new tricks, he was a fun child, usually happy and outgoing. He was very active, and people used to laugh and say, “Aren’t you glad he isn’t twins?” But Janette would just smile sweetly.
Edward had more seminary work to finish, so in the spring of 1962, he left for Indiana to complete the work—alone. Janette stayed behind to pack up for the move. After being in Montgomery for two years, they had accepted a call to the Edmonton church, farther north but also closer to her home.
Janette’s sister Jean stayed with them off and on at the time. She had recently had cancer surgery and was in Calgary taking treatments at the cancer clinic. Jean shared little about how sick she felt from the treatments, and it was only later that Janette learned how difficult it had been for her sister. Janette and Terry would drive Jean over to the clinic and sit in the car until she was finished. While they waited, Janette kept Terry entertained, and then they would all return to the parsonage.
When the time neared for Edward to return home, Janette was to drive to Indiana to spend some time with friends while Edward finished up his summer school; then they would return to Alberta together. This meant that all their household belongings had to be packed before she left so the moving truck could pick them up after she had gone. Together she and Jean finished the busy task.
When it was time for Janette to begin the long trip to Indiana, Jean was not quite finished with her treatments. So she and Orville stayed on in the parsonage, then finished packing the last of the dishes and furniture that they had needed for their stay and did the final cleaning of the home for its next occupant. The pastor’s wife who followed said that she had never moved into such a thoroughly cleaned house, and Janette knew that Jean deserved much of the thanks.
Janette planned to pick up the last paycheck from the church, pay off the final utility bills, and use the remainder of the money for the trip to the U.S. It sounded like a good plan.
However, once the bills had been paid, Janette discovered that she had only about sixteen dollars left. Even in 1961 this was not much money, and she knew she could be in for trouble. They had a gas credit card, but that wouldn’t pay for food and overnight lodging—and there was always a chance of unexpected expenses.
Janette was to spend one night with Edward’s parents before leaving, and she knew that if she asked Dad Oke for money he would gladly help out. Both he and Mother Oke had been wonderfully generous and often helped them over the years while the young couple was getting established in the ministry. But Janette hated to ask.
She worried a bit, prayed even more, and then around four o’clock in the afternoon began the almost-two-thousand-mile drive with a gas credit card and sixteen dollars. Her friend Eleanor Quantz, who planned to spend some time visiting friends in Indiana, traveled with her and helped with the driving. Eleanor, too, had a little money—about thirty dollars.
Janette brought one of Jean’s growing boys along to entertain Terry, who was now eighteen months and very active. Terry and the young boy played in the back while Janette and Eleanor did the driving. Since there were no car seats for the baby, he was allowed to bounce quietly on the seat, or climb onto David’s lap for a story, or press his nose against the window to watch the scenery.
They drove the loaded car straight through the first night, then continued on until late afternoon of the next day. When they stopped for an early night at a little motel, Terry sprinted from the car like a wild thing released from a cage, stretching his chubby little legs as he ran and ran on the soft green lawn.
The next day they arrived in Chicago at June and John’s home, spending the night there. They were almost to Indiana and the sixteen dollars was stretching just fine. The shared motel room and light meals for David, Terry, and herself were all Janette had needed to pay for.
But when they were ready to leave Chicago, it was discovered that, through some confusion, the car keys had been locked in the trunk in a small suitcase. They had to call the city police for help. On arriving and surveying the situation, the officer finally decided to remove the backseat from the vehicle and crawl through in search of the case that held the keys. Embarrassed though she was, Janette was truly relieved to be on the road once again.
In Indiana they met Edward and stayed at the home of some friends. The Freeds were away at the time, and it was a relief to have a place where they could spread out and feel at home.
Again, confusion led to trouble, this time with more serious consequences. Janette had kept her small suitcase locked because it contained children’s aspirin. Edward was not aware of this, and after taking something from the suitcase, he had left it open.
Terry found the suitcase—and the aspirin. He remembered the taste of the little “chewies” from times past and proceeded to help himself. When they discovered him and the bottle, they were aghast, not certain how many he had eaten.
They phoned Dr. Middleton, who told them, “You’d better get him to the hospital.”
No longer being U.S. residents, they did not have insurance to cover their costs—and what was left of the sixteen dollars would not begin to cover a hospital bill. When they arrived with Terry at the emergency room, they discovered a friend from the Beulah Missionary Church was on duty.
He tried to get Terry to bring up the pills, but to no avail. His small body refused. After several attempts, they decided that stomach pumping was the only alternative.
“I think you need to take a walk,” their friend, Virgil, warned. “Mothers shouldn’t be here when we do this.” And it was good advice. They could still hear their small son from across the hospital parking lot.
Even after the stomach pumping, Terry’s blood showed a large amount of aspirin. The hospital did let his parents take him home, but when he awoke from his afternoon nap, his bed was drenched with perspiration. Otherwise, he seemed to suffer no further effects from the incident, and the generous friend who had given him the necessary care asked for no payment for his services.
As is often the case on vacations and family visits, Janette, who was so proud of Terry and anxiou
s to show him off to her Indiana friends, found him uncooperative. Her normally good-tempered, friendly little son had turned into some kind of little monster. He would cry for food, but when Janette gave him some, he would chew it up and spit it out. Then he would begin crying for more. She felt embarrassed—and disappointed. Their friends were not seeing the real Terry.
While they were having dinner with the Middletons, Terry repeated the same scene, only this time a doctor was watching.
“I think that boy has a problem,” Dr. Middleton said and told Janette to bring him to her office. Sure enough, he had a sore throat and ear infection. Medication quickly cleared it up, but by then it was time to head for home.
With Edward to help with driving, they drove straight through on the way home—Edward needed to be back in time for his ordination service. They made it, a little frayed around the edges but, nevertheless, they were there—and on time. Edward was ordained at a service of the annual camp meeting in Didsbury. They took up residence in the Edmonton parsonage, and Edward began his ministry.
Moving in with a nearly two-year-old was an all-consuming experience. Janette was happy to see that the new home had a nice board fence all around the backyard. With a sigh of relief she looked forward to not worrying so much about Terry playing outside. The victory was short-lived. He learned to scale that fence the first day.
After a few spankings for climbing over it, Terry gave up. Then he discovered that he could simply open the gate. His mother did her best to discourage him from that activity also.
It was a nice and well-maintained house. The congregation had almost finished giving it a thorough repainting indoors, leaving only the wall registers to be replaced. As they moved from room to room surveying their new home, Janette heard a little voice call from behind her, “Bye, Mommy.” She turned to see Terry climbing, feet first, down a large, open air vent! She rushed toward him, half-expecting to see him drop out of sight before she could get there, but it turned out there was a bend in the duct-work and he was only able to disappear from the armpits down.
The Edmonton parsonage was a two-story house, which was wonderful, giving a family with a two-year-old plenty of room. Edward and Janette immediately plunged into the work of the church, taking upon themselves the many responsibilities of the ministry. Janette’s duties included Sunday school superintendent, director of the children’s church hour, which she taught alone to about thirty children, and two Pioneer Girls clubs each week over the winter season. She also worked in the nursery while the choir rehearsed before the evening service and then stayed on during the service.
When they left the church one year later, there were many adults in the congregation that Janette had still not met. She had rarely had an opportunity to attend the church services.
Chapter Twenty-six
Additions
Edward and Janette had hoped for a baby brother or sister for Terry, spaced a couple of years after his arrival, but it had not quite worked as planned. When, much to her excitement, Janette did become pregnant, she carried the baby for only about six weeks and then lost it.
At the hospital, for a surgical procedure after the miscarriage, Janette shed tears of disappointment at the loss of another baby. She read that some women have an easier time becoming pregnant after having this surgery so, rightly or wrongly, she decided to ignore the doctor’s admonition that she guard against another pregnancy for at least three months.
Soon Janette decided that she was indeed pregnant again. She simply felt pregnant. But when she called her doctor, a specialist in Edmonton who had been her family doctor in Rimbey when she was a child, Dr. Bugis assured her that she could not be pregnant. He was certain that things had simply not “settled” since the D & C had been performed. Janette waited a few days and called him again.
“I’m sure you’re not, Janette,” he told her. “But come on in and we’ll put your mind at ease.”
When she did go in, he was astounded. Not only did he discover that she was pregnant, but that she was much farther along than she should be for the time period. He called in a second specialist for consultation, who confirmed it.
Edward and Janette were about to move again, this time to Didsbury, where his parents were living. Edward had been appointed by the denomination to act as president of Mountain View Bible College. His father, Harold Oke, had served as vice-president for a period of time a few years earlier.
Hearing that Edward and Janette were moving shortly, Dr. Joseph Bugis was uncertain as to what to do. “If you weren’t going,” he told her, “I’d put you in the hospital and find out what’s going on. As soon as you move, get yourself a specialist.”
Janette decided to go back to Dr. Buchanan in Calgary, even though it was a fifty-mile drive. After they had settled into the college-owned house in Didsbury, Janette made her appointment. It turned out that Dr. Bugis and Dr. Buchanan had been classmates in their training years for obstetrics. Dr. Buchanan laughed at the “joke on Joe.” He was convinced that she had miscarried one baby and that a twin had miraculously survived the D & C. He set her due date accordingly for the first of October.
It was not a comfortable pregnancy. Janette grew quickly—too quickly. And she often found herself tired and worn out early in the day, though thankful for the life she held inside.
In an inspired moment, Janette sat alone and wrote out her thoughts in a poem. Her feelings about the miracle of parentage spilled across the page:
The hand of God … reached down
Into a mother’s heart
And there conceived a thing of beauty
And of wondrous art.
The little babe—so perfect, pure in every part—
A gift of love
From the hand of God.
Not long afterward, Janette offered the poem to June’s husband, John, to see if he thought it worthy to be put to music. John added the melody to her words and “The Hand of God” became a song. It was later published.
As she approached the established due date, she lay down with Terry for a much needed afternoon nap. When he awoke he sat up, rubbed his sleepy eyes, then reached over and patted her rounded tummy.
“There’s two babies in there,” he stated simply.
“No,” Janette spoke reassuringly. “Just one.”
But he shook his head. “Two,” he insisted. She let the matter drop.
The next day, with two months to go, Janette went to the hospital for an X-ray. When Dr. Buchanan saw her after the X-ray, he was grinning.
“It’s twins!” he announced. Janette was thrilled. Terry had been right—though she was sure he had never heard of such a thing as twins.
Janette was not as thrilled, though, when her due date was pushed back to fit the first doctor’s assessment. He had been right, after all. Janette had lost a baby, then immediately become pregnant again, but with twins. She was not due to deliver until early December.
And further, because Dr. Buchanan was afraid to have Janette fifty miles away, she was instructed to stay in Calgary for the duration of her pregnancy. Cliff and Eleanor Quantz were pastoring the Parkdale church and graciously offered her accommodation. It turned out to be a visit of six long weeks. She was grateful for Eleanor, who helped to make the days a bit cheerier and shorter with her sense of humor and good nature, and for her sister Jean, who kept three-year-old Terry for the entire time.
Over the years, as Janette has looked back with affection, remembering that this was not the only time that Jean cared for Janette’s children, she’s been reminded of her defiant words: “I’m glad I’m not your kid!” Jean, a dear sister, could not have given better care and more love to the little Okes.
Despite everyone who was doing her best to help, Janette was miserable. By now she was so big and cumbersome that she could hardly walk, sit, or even lie comfortably. At night she had to turn over in stages. She even outgrew her maternity clothes, so Eleanor made her a large, loose-fitting garment, like a Hawaiian muumuu.
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bsp; A great deal of the burden and discomfort was because of the amount of amniotic fluid Janette was carrying, but of course there was also a lot of baby weight. She had to resort to medication to ease the pain from the pull on her muscles, though Janette still remained quite miserable even with the pills. Every day she hoped that labor would begin, even though her due date had been corrected and she still had some time to wait.
On a maternity visit, Dr. Buchanan told Janette pointedly that he was concerned about twin number two. This baby was much smaller than the first twin, and a second twin was a bit more at risk during the best of times. Besides that, he had not been satisfied with the fetal heartbeat.
Janette prayed for that little twin as she had never before prayed for anyone. And she did not reduce her diet as she should have. She reasoned that whatever she ate, the “little girl” Dr. Buchanan had predicted she carried would get at least a bit of it. The larger twin he had thought would be a boy.
On November 22, 1963, radio stations across the country were repeating over and over again the shocking and very sad news of the assassination of U. S. President John F. Kennedy. That night Janette was admitted to the hospital in labor. The doctor said that the emotional event triggered labor for quite a number of women, and that maternity wards all over the U.S. and Canada were filled.
It was the following morning before Janette was taken to the delivery room. A big healthy boy arrived first. He weighed seven pounds, three ounces. Janette was sure that she saw Dr. Buchanan’s brow furrow at the unusual size of the first twin.
It was a strange sensation to deliver and then to have to begin the birth process all over again—but only a short time later another boy arrived, and to everyone’s surprise, he weighed six pounds, nine ounces. Janette would not forget the big, pleased smile on the doctor’s face. He strutted about the room, proclaiming the size of both boys.
“You’d think he’d done it all,” a nurse commented dryly.
So Janette had not gotten her girl. For a brief moment she felt a pang of disappointment. She had been thinking of this second child as a daughter, had even been praying and speaking about the baby as a girl. But she was tremendously thankful for two big, healthy sons.
Janette Oke Page 18