Steeling herself for the wave of pain due to wash over her any second, Anna tightened her grip on Paul’s hands. He stood behind her at the head of the labor bed, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth, letting her grip his hands during each contraction, and whispering intimate words of love and encouragement in her ear.
As the next contraction began its ascent, she felt her body take over as though it performed apart from her mind or strength. With an intensity that came from some unknown reservoir, she pushed, straining until her lungs were emptied. She gasped for air and another contraction seized her, rolling over her with fury. An involuntary cry, guttural and primitive, escaped her throat.
“You’re doing great, Anna,” the doctor called from his stool at the foot of the labor bed. “One more time. I can see the baby’s head. Come on now. One more time. Push.”
Paul took Anna’s head in his hands, smoothed the palms of his hands over her forehead and cheeks. “You’re doing great, babe. You’re doing just great. It’s almost over…” His voice broke, and with the back of his hand he swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek.
As the contraction reached its apex, Anna felt the baby slide from her body. With immense relief, she let her body relax. It was over.
Anxiously, she looked down at the doctor and nurses whose attention had shifted away from her. They worked methodically, silently, as one. And then, timeless miracle that it was and always would be, the baby took its first ragged breath and released it in a lusty cry. Was there ever a sweeter sound?
“It’s a girl, Anna. A big, healthy girl.”
A girl! Anna had imagined this moment again and again in the past months. Imagined it with dread, afraid that she would break down, that it would be unbearable. But now she felt a wan smile tug at the corners of her mouth. And joy took her unawares.
Two nurses had taken the baby to a table on the other side of the room, and Anna turned her head, watching them wash and dress the infant while the doctor attended to her, delivering the placenta and beginning to stitch her up.
“My goodness!” Anna heard a nurse exclaim. “This baby weighs almost ten pounds—exactly nine-fourteen! And twenty inches long.”
They brought the baby to her then and placed her—still damp and new—in Anna’s arms. The baby was wrapped in a thin flannel blanket, but tiny hands worked themselves loose and waved almost frantically in the air. With reverence, Anna looked into eyes squinted tightly shut against the room’s bright lights. She touched soft corkscrew curls that lay wet and fragrant on the rounded scalp. Cherub lips worked themselves into a round O, already rooting against Anna’s arm.
The black frizz of hair and the shape of the baby’s features left no doubt as to her ancestry. Anna knew that what they’d suspected was true. But as she held her child—her daughter…oh, another daughter!—she marveled at her sweetness. The infant was perfect. Healthy and beautiful and perfect.
Anna was filled with love for her. Overwhelmed. And then a realization spread through her being. Just as this new life was pushed from her body, Anna’s fear and pain had been pushed away as well. The details of the baby’s conception began to fade like shadows in the sunlight. In an ironic, yet miraculous way, this baby’s birth had completed her healing.
She smiled up at Paul. She could see by the look of confusion on his face that he didn’t grasp her joy. But he gave her a feeble smile and stroked damp hair away from her face with a tenderness that moved her deeply.
Paul moved to her side and looked down at the baby. He reached out tentatively and let the tiny hand rest in his large palm. The contrast brought a lump to Anna’s throat.
“Oh, babe. She’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” He squeezed Anna’s shoulder with his other hand.
Anna reached up and touched her own hair, damp and stringy, her face, devoid of makeup. She knew she looked far from beautiful right now, but she felt it.
For long minutes she held the baby and they marveled at each tiny feature. Her fingers and toes were long and slender. Her forehead and the bridge of her nose were broad, and her eyes—when she finally opened them—were dark and bright and already seemed full of curiosity.
Anna cuddled the little girl in her arms and consciously put every other thought out of her mind, allowing only the joy of the moment to hold her attention. She felt herself grow deliciously drowsy. She was afraid she would fall asleep while the baby still lay in her arms, so Paul summoned the nurses for her. One took the baby to the hospital’s nursery while another settled Anna in a small private room down the hall.
Paul kissed Anna goodbye and went home to call their families with the bittersweet news.
In the sterile quietness of her room, Anna closed her eyes and relished the warmth of the blankets the nurses had piled on her. Especially she savored the feeling of weightlessness. After months of carrying a growing baby inside her body––a big baby––now she felt as though she were floating in the bed.
She turned her head and fixed her gaze on the empty bassinet at the side of her bed, and she relived the events of the last few hours over and over. Finally, exhausted, she allowed slumber to overtake her.
“Mrs. Marquette… Mrs. Marquette?”
Anna heard her name as thought it were coming through a tunnel. She struggled to open her eyes. A nurse stood over her, waiting for a reply. Anna came fully awake, remembering where she was. And it all came rushing back to her. Her baby—her daughter—had been born today!
“What time is it?” she croaked.
“It’s almost eleven o’clock.”
The drapes were drawn, and she felt disoriented. Was it morning or nighttime?
“I’m sorry to wake you so late,” the nurse said, answering Anna’s unspoken question, “but your baby is awake and crying. We weren’t sure if you wanted us to bring her in or not.” Obviously the nursing staff had been made aware of Anna’s unique situation.
“Would you like me to bring her to you?” the nurse repeated.
“Yes,” Anna said, her voice a whisper. “Yes.”
A few minutes later the same nurse backed into the room, opening the door with a shove of her ample hips. In her arms was a tightly swaddled bundle, now still and quiet.
“Wouldn’t you know it. By the time I got back to the nursery, she’d calmed down.” She shifted the baby to one arm, carrying her in a football hold, obviously very accustomed to working with newborns. With her free hand she helped Anna find the remote and put the bed in an upright position. Then she bent down and put the baby in Anna’s arms.
“They tried to give her a little bit of formula in the nursery, but she didn’t seem very interested.” The nurse handed Anna a warm bottle of formula. “I’ll come back in a few minutes and check on you. Here’s your call button. Just buzz if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Anna said distractedly.
The nurse hurried from the room, and Anna turned her full attention to the bundle in her arms.
The tiny girl’s eyes were open, and they immediately focused on Anna’s face. Love welled up so strongly in her heart it was almost a physical sensation. She remembered feeling exactly this way when she’d held Kara and Kassandra in her arms just hours after their births. When she’d nursed them each for the first time. It was an emotion she’d nearly forgotten—a rich mingling of joy and pride, relief and expectancy.
“Hello, baby,” she whispered. She stroked the dainty fuzz on top of her head. The tiny spirals of black hair were dry now and sprang away from her head in a dark wisp of a halo.
She cuddled the tiny body close to hers. “Oh, sweetheart, you are so precious. I love you so.” Tears came—more from frustration than sadness. There were simply no words that could fully express the love Anna felt for this little one.
The urge to nurse the baby was instinctive, but she’d been given something to dry up her milk. Still weak and aching from the birth, she put her knees up in the bed and placed the baby upright in her lap. “Let’s look at you, sweetheart,” she cooed.
She unwrapped the blanket swaddling the little girl and gently pulled off the booties she wore, unconsciously counting fingers and toes, memorizing the cherubic face. “Oh, you are so beautiful!” She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on the tiny forehead. The baby scrunched up her face in a scowl. Anna laughed softly at the comical grimace, her heart so tender with love for this child that it ached.
The emotional pain that had hung so heavily on Anna’s shoulders before the birth now crept over her anew. They faced a decision of such profound magnitude that it threatened to swallow her.
“Oh, Lord,” she prayed, “I give this little girl to you. You and You alone know what lies ahead for her. I know, Father, I know that I cannot place her in any more loving hands than Your own. But I’m scared, God…so scared. You know how deeply I love her already. I don’t know if I can give her up should You ask that of me.”
Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, dear God… I don’t know if I can give her up. I love her. Oh, how I love her already. Please, show us what to do. Please, Lord. You know we want to do the right thing, but we don’t know what that is. We just don’t know…”
Looking into the baby’s eyes, Anna thought of Justin Walker. This baby probably looked much the way little Justin had as a baby—the deep brown curls and bright dark eyes, the chubby rounded cheeks that Justin still hadn’t outgrown. What a blessing that little boy had turned out to be. In many ways, his start in life had been as tragic. A young girl who wasn’t yet ready to be a mother, a boy who ran from responsibility. And yet, look how God had redeemed that seeming tragedy. There was much joy and blessing in the Walker home because of Justin. And much love there for him, as well. Surely the Walkers’ example offered hope for this infant who lay nestled in Anna’s lap. Surely somewhere was a family whose love could withstand any prejudice, heal any heartache this little girl would face.
Suddenly, a vision of Tanya Walker’s face overwhelmed Anna. Sweet Tanya—such a caring devoted mother. And Daniel—so gentle, yet firm when Justin needed firmness.
And in a blinding, miraculous instant, Anna knew beyond all doubt that this baby—her baby—was meant for Tanya and Daniel Walker. Had been meant for them all along.
Her spirit sang with joy as the answer to their prayers was revealed like a heavy veil being lifted. As though God himself spoke to her, she heard the words in her mind. This child was not a tragic accident. I had a plan for her little life all along. And you, Anna—you were the instrument I chose to give her life. Because you were obedient, because you suffered for what was right, this will be a blessing, even to you.
She trembled—not in fear, but in awe. God had redeemed her tragedy in a way she couldn’t have imagined. She sat upright in the hospital bed, hugging the baby to her chest, and it seemed as though the room glowed with the aura of God’s presence.
For long minutes, she praised Him in utter amazement and joy. The baby fell asleep in her arms, and Anna gently laid her in the bassinet. She lay back on the pillows and watched the soothing rhythms as her baby’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell, and she listened to the steady, even breaths that filled the crib beside her. Anna felt herself drifting, until a sleep of perfect peace overtook her.
Chapter 22
Paul woke at five o’clock the morning after Anna’s daughter was born. Anna’s daughter. It still seemed unfathomable to him that Anna could have had a child apart from him. Seeing the baby immediately after she was born, Paul knew with certainty that the man who’d been arrested for Anna’s rape had indeed fathered the child she’d borne. The baby’s appearance left little doubt of that fact.
And yet, when he’d put the infant’s tiny hand in his as Anna cuddled her on the delivery bed, he’d felt something rise up in his heart for the baby. Perhaps it was pity or compassion for the uncertainty of her future. But it had felt suspiciously like love. Of course, the baby was a part of Anna, and he loved Anna more deeply now than he’d ever thought possible. Perhaps his feelings for the child sprang from his bond with his wife. Though they’d been living in a nightmare for the past nine months, he and Anna had been drawn together in a precious intimacy that only tragedy could have forged.
He felt strangely suspended in time. Never had he lived for the moment as he had in these past months. Even now, he could not begin to guess how this would all end.
Although Anna had voiced her longing to raise the child as their own on the day the Whitemans had given up the baby, she’d not acted on that announcement in any way. Of course, by then she’d been so caught up in the physical burden of the pregnancy that Paul knew she’d not been able even to think rationally. But still, she’d seemed unconcerned about preparing a room for the baby, or choosing a name, or even buying one outfit of clothing. Perhaps this was what it meant to trust fully in the Lord. To wait on Him. Paul himself had felt no compulsion to decide the baby’s fate. He waited on Anna.
Now, he could scarcely wait to be with her, to find out how the ending of this story––their story––would be written.
It was almost seven-thirty when Paul arrived at the hospital, and breakfast carts were just coming up on the elevator. He walked into Anna’s room to find her sitting up in bed, gazing out the large window across from her bed.
“Paul. Oh, honey, I have something to tell you.”
“I thought you would, Anna. Somehow I knew you would. I’m ready… I mean that, Anna. I think I’m ready for anything you could tell me.” He sat on the bed beside her and took her hand in his.
“They brought her into my room last night, and I held her for a long time, and …” Anna’s bottom lip began to quiver. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want to cry when I told you.”
“It’s okay, Anna. Cry if you need to.” He waited for her to compose herself.
“It…it’s going to be so hard. Much harder than I ever dreamed…to let her go, but I know I have to. We have to.” Her sentence ended on a sob. She put her fist to her mouth, struggling for composure. “But Paul… I think I know where she belongs.”
He gave her a questioning look. He was confused. He’d braced himself to have Anna tell him that she wanted to keep the baby.
Her story poured out now…the vision Anna had of Daniel and Tanya, the conviction that the Walkers were God’s plan for the baby all along.
He was truly shocked. Even after they’d learned the identify of Anna’s rapist, he’d never thought about the possibility of Daniel and Tanya wanting the baby. And yet, hearing Anna recount her revelation, it seemed to make perfect sense. He squeezed her hand. “I think we’ve received our answer.”
She nodded.
Yet he wanted to be certain that she was making this decision with a clear mind, that she wasn’t feeling pressured to make a hasty choice.
He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Anna, I have to say it one more time. I don’t ever want you to look back and feel that I hindered you from keeping this baby. If that’s what you truly want, I’m still willing. I mean that with all my heart. Do you understand?”
“Oh, honey, I do. And I love you for it.” She fell against him and her tears started anew. “Paul, I could never have gotten through this ordeal without you. You’ve been everything I could ever ask for through it all. But I know… I know in my heart that this is right. I will never look back. It won’t be easy, I know—but I’ll never look back. I know this is right.”
He enveloped her in his arms, aching for her, for the wrenching decision she had made. Yet so grateful for this answer Anna had received. They had received.
They agreed then that Anna would talk to Emma, and together they would offer the child to the Walkers. If Daniel and Tanya accepted, which Paul felt certain they would, he would contact Walter LeMans to begin the legal process of an open adoption.
There was a rap on the door and a young nurse opened it a crack and stuck her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, but your little one is making a noisy racket down
there.” She motioned down the hallway toward the nursery. “Would you mind if I hold your breakfast tray while you feed her?”
Paul looked at Anna. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to… to get attached?” he asked quietly.
Anna smiled sadly. “It’s too late, honey. I’m already attached.” To the nurse she said, “Yes, please bring her in.”
Paul helped Anna get comfortable, raising the head of the bed and plumping pillows behind her back. Within minutes the nurse reappeared, this time with a squalling infant in her arms.
“Oh, my,” Anna laughed softly, her voice quivering. “I forgot how many decibels a hungry baby can generate.”
Paul watched as Anna worked with the baby, positioning her across her body until they both seemed comfortable, then gently plying her lips with the warm bottle. Soon the baby was sucking contentedly, and Anna seemed relaxed and contented herself.
As he had when his own daughters were newborns, Paul marveled at the maternal instinct, at how natural and at ease Anna was with the baby.
A great sadness overwhelmed him for what Anna had been asked to endure––and now to give up. For this precious part of her that was his loss as well.
In silence, they sat together until the baby was finished eating. Paul knew, watching her, that Anna was saying goodbye, savoring each moment, committing each tiny feature to memory. And in that instant he felt the need to say his own goodbye. The baby had fallen asleep in Anna’s arms, and Paul reached for her.
Anna looked at him with surprise. But with great tenderness, she transferred the infant to his arm. Her tears fell anew as she watched him hold her daughter.
A few minutes later the nurse stuck her head into Anna’s room again. “Ah…you got her to sleep,” she said, seeing the baby in Paul’s arms. She turned to Anna. “Do you feel up to company? You have someone in the waiting room.”
Because of the Rain Page 19