by Leslie Gould
Before I could answer that I was, she said that she had thirty-two nieces and nephews and had helped with babies since she was a little girl. I could see why Nan hired her.
We reached the landing, and I followed her down the hall. A door was wide open, showing a single bed, two bassinets, a dresser, and a changing table. The dresser was covered with diapers, spit rags, and stacks of tiny clothes. “This is the nursery,” she said. “The bassinets are on wheels.” I could see that. “So we can move them from here into Nan and Bob’s room when needed. That’s where Asher is right now.”
Hope continued on down the hall, stopping at the bathroom. “There’s another one downstairs,” she said and then grinned. “We only have an outhouse back home. I’m loving it here.” In a split second she was off again to the next room. Inside were two twin beds, two dressers, and two side tables. Creamy yellow paint covered the walls, and the buffed oak floor shone under the light of the morning sun.
Hope spread her arms wide. “This room was Cate and Betsy’s before they both married.”
There was a cork bulletin board on the far wall with a calendar on it but no other decorations.
Hope opened a door revealing a wide closet. Dresses filled half of it, but the other side was empty. “I made room for your things,” she said.
I’d only brought three dresses. I scanned the room again. There were no pegs—only the closet. We didn’t have closets at our house. It was too old.
“You can have that bed,” Hope said, pointing to the one on the far side of the room. I placed my bag beside it and stepped toward the wide windows. From the corner of the window I could see the backyard and the Dawdi Haus. Straight on was a view of the showroom and shop.
“Do you see the workers much?”
Hope sat down on her bed. “Some, but most of them are gone this week.”
“Jah, hunting,” I said.
She nodded. “Which has made Bob nervous. They’re behind on a big order.”
I’d never known Bob Miller to be unsettled. I sat down on my bed, bouncing on the mattress. It felt like a pillow.
Hope continued, “In fact, Bob and Pete are working in the shop today.”
“Why’d he let the boys go hunting?” I asked. They should have stayed and helped.
“He promised them months ago. . . .”
“Where’s Cate?”
“Working in the office and seeing to the showroom.”
“Have you met a new worker? Someone named Don?”
“Phillip’s brother?”
“That’s the one.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t met him yet.” She grinned. “But Martin said he was going hunting with the rest.” She stood. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her, but before I could say anything, the frantic cry of a newborn startled me.
“That’s Asher. His cry is the loudest.” She headed toward the door. “He doesn’t start out with a whimper—he wakes up screaming at the top of his lungs.”
I waited in the hall, feeling awkward, while Hope retrieved the baby. He continued to cry after she picked him up. “Come here,” she called out to me. “I’ll show you where everything is in this room.”
The room was messier than what I’d seen from the hall. The bed wasn’t properly made—the covers were pulled up but nothing tucked in. A water glass, prescription bottles, thermometer, bottles of lotion, and a can of powder were strewn on the bedside table.
Not only were more diapers and clothes piled on their dresser too, but so were books and papers. “Don’t Bob and Nan mind us being in here?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Hope said. She grabbed a diaper and headed toward the changing table along the wall. The baby continued to scream, sounding as desperate as anything I’d ever heard in my entire life. His face turned redder and redder.
I followed Hope to the table. “Is he all right?”
Hope wrinkled her nose as she put him down. “He’s fine, believe me.” She unwound the thin blanket and took off his sleeper, which was soaking wet, revealing just how small he was. Much smaller than he’d seemed the other day, when he’d been bundled in a heavier blanket.
The enormity of caring for such a tiny being nearly overwhelmed me. “He’s so little.”
“He’s the biggest of the three,” Hope reminded me.
She worked quickly, taking off the wet diaper, opening the adjacent pail with her foot, and dropping the used diaper inside.
“I’m surprised they’re using cloth diapers,” I said over Asher’s screaming, thinking of the diapers I’d hung on the line the week before. “Wouldn’t disposable be easier?”
Hope chuckled. “Nan’s talking about going that route.”
After cleaning Asher, Hope pinned the new diaper, slipped on rubber pants, then a new sleeper, and reswaddled the baby. All while he continued screaming. “Take him while I wash my hands.”
“Sure,” I said, remembering Mamm saying that I’d be doing the most important work in the world. I wrapped my arms around Asher and lifted him to my chest as Hope walked away. I must have startled him, because his crying faded to a whimper for a moment. I cradled him, staring into his murky eyes. He pursed his lips.
I whispered, “Hello, little one.”
He scrunched his face.
I braced myself for another round but he hiccupped instead.
That made me smile, which startled him. I bounced him up and down a little. He yawned. The red of his face faded a little. I touched the top of his scalp, rubbing his fine, dark hair. He yawned again.
I stepped into the hallway to wait for Hope.
A minute later, as she came out of the bathroom she said, “Look at you.”
At the sound of her voice Asher began screaming again. “I think he wants you.”
She put up her hands. “He’s all yours.”
I pulled him closer. He continued to scream.
“Come on,” Hope said. “Let’s go see if Nan is ready to feed him.”
I took the steps carefully, one at a time, as if I were an old lady. By the time I reached the kitchen, Hope had taken Kurt, who was sound asleep, in her arms and Nan was waiting for Asher. As soon as I handed him to Nan he stopped crying.
She kissed the top of his head and positioned him to nurse.
“I’ll take Kurt upstairs,” Hope said.
“Denki.” Nan leaned back in the chair. “I plan to go to the hospital in an hour.”
I stammered, “What if Kurt and Asher need to be fed?”
“Cate is coming to help,” Nan replied. “She’ll be able to get them to take bottles.”
There would be three of us—surely it wouldn’t be a problem.
“Bea,” Nan said. “Would you like to come with me?”
“To the hospital?”
She nodded. “I thought you might want to see the neonatal unit.”
“Would you like to go?” I asked Hope.
She grinned. “Sure.”
Nan shook her head. “Hope went last week. I’d like you to go today.”
I wanted to say no. I didn’t feel comfortable in hospitals. It had been a stretch for me to visit when Mamm was ill, and I’d avoided it as much as possible. I dreaded interacting with the Englisch nurses and doctors, not to mention having the other patients and visitors stare at me.
Besides, what if Leah got worse while we were there? What if something bad happened? I was awful in a crisis. I’d never had a chance to prove otherwise, because Molly had always been there to deal with every single crisis in our family, but I was sure, if I had the chance to handle one, I’d do badly.
But I had prayed that I’d be up to the tasks Nan asked of me. I didn’t want to let Nan down.
“Bea?” Nan said again, as she rocked the baby.
“I’ll go,” I answered. “If you’re certain.”
Nan smiled and then said, “I’d like that very much.”
Chapter
5
We didn’t
leave until after noon—Nan fed both of the babies while the rest of us ate our dinner. Then she handed off Kurt to Bob and Asher to Hope and said she was ready to go. Bob reminded her she hadn’t eaten.
“Oh,” she said, a confused expression on her face. “How did I forget? I’m starving.”
“I’ll dish up for you.” Cate grabbed Nan’s plate and began filling it.
Bob held Kurt with one hand and put the other on his wife’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?”
“Jah,” she answered. “You go back down to the shop.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Beatrice is going with me.”
Bob smiled at me but didn’t seem relieved by the news. She squeezed his hand again and sat down at the table. I began clearing the food as Cate took Kurt from Bob and settled in the rocker. Bob told Nan good-bye and then followed Pete out the door.
Hope settled Asher down in the playpen and helped me with the food. We’d just started on the dishes when a horn honked.
“Doris is here,” Nan said, standing and hurrying to the sink with her plate. She returned to the rocker, bent down to kiss Kurt, thanked Cate, and then peered down into the playpen at Asher for a long moment.
I dried my hands. The horn honked again.
“Go,” Cate said. “So you’ll be back as soon as possible.”
I grabbed my cape, and Nan grabbed one too.
“That’s mine,” Cate said.
“Oh.” Nan returned it and looked at the others hanging on the pegs for a moment and then grabbed another one. Then she grabbed a Kapp and pulled her scarf from her head.
I led the way out the door, happy to see Doris behind the wheel of her van.
“You sit up front,” Nan whispered to me as she positioned her Kapp. “I’m going to try to sleep a little.”
The hospital wasn’t more than twenty minutes away, but I didn’t protest. Coming back from the train station had been the first time I’d sat up front with Doris. As I climbed in, Nan asked me if I had an extra pin.
I took one of mine from my Kapp and passed it back to her.
“How are those boys doing hunting?” Doris asked as I climbed in.
I must have made a funny face because she laughed. “That’s right—they don’t have cell service up there.”
As far as I knew none of them had a phone.
“I wonder if they took warm enough clothes,” she said. “I hope they don’t freeze to death.”
As she drove, she talked about where she’d dropped them off. “At the end of nowhere,” she said and then laughed. “They took a mess of cold boxes, thinking they’d each get a deer.” She shook her head. “Hunting with muzzle-loaders sounds like a shot in the dark to me.” She laughed again.
I knew nothing about muzzle-loaders or hunting.
I glanced back at Nan. She’d tilted her head against the seat, her Kapp a little askew and eyes closed. Her lids looked nearly translucent. Wisps of grayish blond hair fell from beneath her Kapp.
Doris kept talking. “That Ben sure is a sweetie.” She gave me a sideways look.
I didn’t respond.
“He took a stack of books along to read—but no fuel for his lantern. Said he had a flashlight but I doubt the batteries will last long.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“And the other guys were teasing him about keeping a journal.” She chuckled. “Especially the one with the beard. What’s his name?”
“Don?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Phillip’s brother.” She turned onto the highway. “He seems like a nice fellow.”
I nodded but then said, “I only met him for the first time Saturday.” I didn’t want it to seem I was familiar with him.
I glanced back at Nan again. She appeared to be in a deep slumber. The smooth ride had probably lulled her to sleep.
Doris and I continued to chat until we arrived at the hospital, an impressive brick structure, and Doris called out Nan’s name.
“Are we here already?” Nan slowly sat up straight. As she opened the sliding door, she said, “We’ll only be an hour. I need to get back to the boys.”
I climbed out and offered my arm to Nan. She took it and stepped down gingerly.
“I’m going to run an errand,” Doris said, “but then I’ll wait right here.”
I thanked her and slammed the door shut, following Nan toward the building. A few minutes later we were in the elevator and then at the door to the neonatal ward. Nan checked in and introduced me. As we scrubbed, my hands began to shake, even though the water was hot. It had been a mistake to come—I was sure of it.
I inhaled deeply as we put paper gowns over our clothes and masks over our noses and mouths, willing myself to be brave. The last thing Nan needed to do was take care of me too.
She led the way into a big room and started making her way around little clear plastic baby beds, with two holes on each side. One of them held a tiny, tiny baby, not bigger than a man’s hand, hooked up to tubes and wires. Another had a baby with what looked like purple blinders over its eyes.
Nurses and other parents greeted Nan. She introduced me to each one. A hum from the machines filled the room. I jumped at the sound of a high-pitched beep. Nan put her hand on my arm and said, “It’s nothing to be alarmed by.”
Finally we were at Leah’s bedside. Her nurse gave Nan a hug and said, “She’s having a really good day.”
“Praise God,” Nan said, which surprised me. She usually seemed so reserved. Then she introduced me as she placed her hands into the bed, stroking Leah’s cheek. The baby had lighter hair than her brothers and she was much smaller. Her arms and legs looked like twigs. Wires and cords crisscrossed her body but no tubes. She wore a disposable diaper and nothing else.
“It’s time for her feeding,” the nurse said.
“Oh, I hoped it would be,” Nan answered.
The nurse left and returned with a bottle and a couple of blankets. Nan lifted the baby, wires and all, and wrapped her quickly in a blanket. Then Nan settled into the rocking chair only a foot away. She cooed to the baby, sounding like a mother dove, as she settled in, pulling the little girl close and then rubbing the nipple of the bottle across the baby’s cheek. Leah turned toward her mother and latched onto the bottle.
The nurse stood with her hands clasped together, staring at the two. “I have good news,” she said.
Nan’s head shot up.
The nurse grinned. “She’s almost met her weight requirement. And her body temperature has stabilized. The doctor says you can take her home soon—maybe even tomorrow.”
Nan sank against the back of the chair, drawing the baby even closer. “Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered, her eyes filling up with tears.
I hadn’t cried since my Mamm’s medical problems, but my eyes grew teary too. Nan continued to feed Leah while the nurse changed the sheet on the baby’s bed. I stood still, feeling out of place, my eyes finally wandering to a young couple standing over a baby nearby. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulder. She wore a pair of jeans under her paper gown. After a few minutes they headed toward us.
Nan stopped rocking. “How is he today?”
“Not good,” the man answered.
Nan leaned forward, focusing on the woman. “I’ll keep praying,” she said.
“Thank you,” the young mother said. Then she knelt down beside Nan and peered into Leah’s face. “She’s looking better.”
Nan nodded.
“I’m so glad,” the woman said. “And how are your boys?”
Nan simply nodded, appearing too choked up to talk.
The woman stood and patted Nan’s shoulder. “See you soon.”
Nan nodded again.
After the couple left, Nan began humming “Das Loblied,” the praise song that we sang at every church service. The baby stopped sucking on the bottle and with her inky dark eyes stared up at her mother. The words played in my head as Nan hummed:
O Lord Father, we
bless thy name,
Thy love and thy goodness praise;
That thou, O Lord, so graciously
Have been to us always. . . .
The baby began to suck again. And I prayed silently, for Leah, for Nan, and for the baby of the young Englisch couple—until a whooshing sound startled me.
“That’s just the temperature monitor,” Nan said, lifting the blanket a little to show one of the pads with a wire adhered to Leah’s chest. “The other three are EKG probes. And the clips on her thumb and toe are to check her oxygen.”
“Oh,” I answered, trying to comprehend it all.
“We don’t have to use any fancy equipment once we take her home,” Nan said, her eyes shining.
I nodded.
“But we still have to be vigilant. In fact, we have a stack of books—Cate has them now—about caring for newborns, especially preemies. All sorts of good information, including what to do in an emergency. Instructions on infant CPR. That sort of thing. Ask Cate for the books.”
I nodded but couldn’t imagine taking charge during an emergency. It’s not like Nan or Cate or Bob or even Hope wouldn’t be around to help.
“Would you grab me the second blanket?” Nan nodded toward the edge of the bed.
I stepped forward, leaving my spot of safety without glancing down at the floor. My foot wedged against a cord just under the base of the bed. I stumbled forward. The cord gave just as a machine began to beep again, but much louder than before.
I jerked back. “What happened?”
Nan nodded toward the floor. “You unplugged the isolette. That made the alarm go off.”
I must have given her a blank stare.
“The bed,” she explained, nodding toward the floor again. “It’s called an isolette.”
I followed her eyes, moving a half step sideways. Under the edge of the bed on the floor was an outlet and beside it was a black cord. I kneeled down and quickly plugged it back in. The beeping stopped.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I stood.