by Marta Perry
Sarah tried to concentrate on what came next, but she failed to follow most of it. The attorney seemed to be speaking in a different language most of the time. He mainly seemed to be saying that since lay midwives weren’t registered by the Pennsylvania Department of Health, it was a crime for them to help women have their babies.
When he called on Dr. Mitchell, she began to wish she didn’t understand as much as she did. The district attorney led him through a series of questions that seemed meant to establish his important credentials. And, in contrast, she supposed, to her lack of them.
“Now, Dr. Mitchell, will you tell us exactly why you are opposed to the practice of lay midwives like Mrs. Stoltzfus and Mrs. Mast?”
“Certainly.” Dr. Mitchell adjusted his glasses, seeming to avoid looking toward the crowded courtroom. “It’s really very simple. Childbirth is a medical procedure. In my opinion, it requires the attendance of a licensed physician and should take place in a hospital, where full medical facilities are available. Only in such a way can we ensure the health and safety of mother and baby.”
“Now, Dr. Mitchell, some might think that your only interest is in protecting your own turf.” Mr. Hoagland’s tone made it clear that the suggestion was ridiculous.
“Of course that’s not true,” Dr. Mitchell said, so quickly it seemed he’d known what the attorney would say. “Believe me, my practice would be much more financially successful if I didn’t deliver babies at all, what with the high cost of malpractice insurance. But I see it as my duty to the community.”
There was more in that vein, and Sarah had to admit to a growing sense that the man really believed what he said. Dr. Mitchell was convinced that his position was the only correct one, and nothing would sway him.
Soon it was Ms. Downing’s turn to ask questions of Dr. Mitchell. She stood a few feet away from him, smiling gently. “Dr. Mitchell, how many babies have you delivered since you came to Pleasant Valley?”
The question seemed to startle him, but surely it was a logical one. “I’m not sure, exactly. I don’t have my records with me.”
“An approximate number will do,” Ms. Downing said.
He shrugged. “Perhaps . . . about ten, I suppose.”
“And before you came here, were you in practice elsewhere as an obstetrician?”
“No.” He snapped off the word. “I’m a general practitioner, but I’m fully qualified to deliver babies. In a high-risk case, I can always refer a patient to a specialist in the city.”
“So, ten babies, more or less. And how many in total?”
Dr. Mitchell seemed to grind his teeth, his face reddening. “About twenty.”
“I see. And do you know how many babies Mrs. Mast has delivered?”
“I have no idea, nor do I care.”
Ms. Downing smiled. “Would you be surprised that her records indicate she has assisted at the births of over two hundred babies?”
He clamped his mouth shut, clearly not prepared to answer.
Dr. Mitchell was followed by a woman from the Department of Health. As Sarah listened to the questions and answers, she began to realize that the woman was treading carefully, perhaps not wanting to offend either side. But she made it clear that lay midwives like Sarah were not licensed by the state, which seemed damaging enough, despite the point Ms. Downing made in her questions that many states did certify and license lay midwives.
When the woman from the Department of Health had stepped down, it seemed to be Ms. Downing’s turn. As she rose from her chair and walked forward with an air of confidence, Sarah found herself relaxing. She was in good hands—she felt it.
Dr. Brandenmyer gave Sarah a reassuring smile as he came forward. His testimony was brief and to the point, supporting the invaluable role that midwives played in helping women who wanted a midwife-assisted home birth.
“Would you want to have someone like Sarah Mast on your staff, Dr. Brandenmyer?”
He smiled. “I’d be honored to. She has an excellent record, and I have seen for myself her empathy and caring for pregnant women. A midwife with her training and experience would be certified in any of a number of states.”
Once Dr. Brandenmyer stepped down, Ms. Downing presented the letter from the doctor Sarah had worked with in Ohio, along with further testimony as to the qualifications of a midwife. The district attorney asked very few questions, and Sarah began to think Ms. Downing had been right that perhaps he regretted listening to Dr. Mitchell.
Ms. Downing addressed the judge. “Your Honor, this case clearly comes down to a disagreement over whether childbirth is the natural function of a healthy body or a medical procedure. Obviously, we believe—”
The judge cut her off with a raised hand. Then he gestured the two attorneys to come forward, leaning over to talk with them in tones so low Sarah couldn’t hear. A cold hand seemed to grip the back of her neck. Had he already decided against her so quickly? If she had to go to a trial . . .
Ms. Downing came quickly back to her, bending over to whisper. “Everyone wants this to go away, quickly and quietly. I just have to give the judge a legal hook on which to hang that.”
Sarah was beginning to understand, she thought. “Can you do that?”
“I think so.” The lawyer patted her hand and turned back to face the judge. “Your Honor, the fact that the Pennsylvania Department of Health does not certify lay midwives doesn’t mean that such a role does not exist. Furthermore, any interference in the way the Amish choose to give birth might be interpreted as interfering with their civil rights under the Constitution. Therefore, I respectfully submit that this court is not the proper venue for a decision as to the role of midwives in childbirth.”
The judge gave a brisk nod and turned to the district attorney. “Mr. Hoagland?”
“We agree, Your Honor.” It seemed he couldn’t say the words fast enough.
“I’m inclined to agree as well. I see no point in wasting the court’s time with this matter. The case against midwife Sarah Mast is dismissed.” He banged his gavel with a look of relief on his face. And then he was gone.
A murmur went through the courtroom. Sarah felt dazed. “Is it over?”
Grinning, Ms. Downing hugged her. “It’s over,” she said. “It’s over.”
“Praise God,” Bishop Mose said.
People began to surge forward, thanking the attorney, crowding around Sarah.
Sarah released herself from Anna’s hug, scanning the faces around her. All dear, familiar faces, but not the one she longed to see.
And then she spotted him. Aaron stood at the back of the room, looking at her. She met his gaze. She wanted to talk to him, to thank him, to tell him . . .
“Komm.” Bishop Mose took her arm. “It is time to go home.”
Aaron leaned against the back porch railing at Emma’s house, not quite sure why he was still here. The house had been crowded with folks ever since the return from Lewisburg. He had a feeling that most of them were still vaguely astonished at themselves for having taken on an Englisch court and won in such a way.
People came and went, but he waited. There’d been no chance to talk with Sarah yet, and he must do that. And maybe he would have his wish. Sarah came into the kitchen, glanced through the window, and saw him. A moment later she stepped onto the porch, wrapping a shawl around her.
“Aren’t you cold out here all alone, Aaron?”
He shrugged. “It’s not bad. Too crowded in there for my taste.”
“Ja.” She gave a little sigh and leaned against the railing next to him. “I love all of them, and I am so grateful for their support. But you are the one I must talk with.”
Her words were an echo of his thoughts, and he turned slightly so that he faced her. “Maybe that is why I’m standing out here.”
She tilted her head, looking into his face. “I owe you so much gratitude for what you did that I don’t know how to begin to say—”
“Then don’t,” he said. “I’m not here for thanks, Sa
rah. I’m here to say . . .” He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I was wrong. That’s all. If I were like that lawyer, maybe I could dress it up in fancier language, but that’s the truth of it. I was wrong.”
Her gaze searched his face. “You have a right to believe what you will, Aaron. If you don’t feel that midwifery is acceptable—”
“Then I would be like Dr. Mitchell, speaking out of ignorance. Thinking I knew what was best for everyone.”
A smile curved the corner of her lips. “Some people might believe that.”
Warmth spread through him at the sight of that smile. “My sister and brothers, you mean. I’m trying to be a bit better about that. I don’t want to tell them what to do, only to help them find the best way.”
“Even if that is different from your way?”
“Ja. But maybe it isn’t.” He couldn’t help it—he had to take her hands in his. “Sarah, when I saw what it meant to Molly, having her baby in familiar surroundings, when I saw how you encouraged her and helped her . . . well, I began to understand the value of what you do. How important it is that a woman like Molly could have her baby the way she wanted to.”
Wariness still guarded Sarah’s eyes. “You didn’t want me to fight for it.”
“No.” He looked down at her hands, clasped in his. “I didn’t, but it wasn’t because I thought you were wrong. I feared you’d be hurt. And I thought you could give it up and still be happy.”
“Do you still think that?” The question was hardly more than a whisper.
“No.” He lifted her hands to his lips, looking at her with all the love he felt clear in his eyes. “Sarah, your skills are a part of you. A precious gift from God. You could no more give that up for me than I could give up loving my sister and brothers. No one should ever ask that in the name of love.”
“ Aaron . . .”
His lips brushed her hands. “I love you, Sarah, and your gift is part of you, so I love that, too. Will you be my wife?”
“Are you sure?” She put her palm against his cheek, looking gravely into his eyes.
“I am certain sure.”
The last of the doubt disappeared from her eyes, leaving them as clear as glass. “I love you, Aaron. Nothing would make me happier.”
He bent his head to kiss her, joy flooding his heart and filling him with peace.
EPILOGUE
The trees, covered with the pale yellow green of early spring, arched over the picnic tables set up in Anna and Samuel’s backyard, and the flowerbeds along the house were bright with sunny yellow daffodils and deep purple hyacinths. It was an off Sunday, and Anna had invited several families for a picnic lunch and to meet Rachel’s new baby.
Sarah sat in a lawn chair in a circle of women, small children playing at their feet. A stray breeze sent a shower of cherry blossoms from the tree over their heads, and Anna’s small daughter laughed, reaching up to try to catch them.
Anna smiled, watching her, and smoothed her hand over the bump under her apron. “I hope she’ll be so happy when she has a new little brother or sister.”
“Never doubt that,” Sarah said. “Your little Grace has a loving heart to match her name.”
“She does,” Anna said softly. “There was a time when I couldn’t have believed we’d be as happy and settled as we are today.” Her gaze seemed instinctively to seek out Samuel, who was deep in conversation with Aaron as they crossed the yard from the paddock.
“It won’t be long until Sarah is putting a new boppli in your arms,” Molly said, cuddling little Jacob, who cooed up at her. “Then your happiness will be doubled.”
“Until they reach their teen years,” Leah said, smiling. “Our Matthew has always been so level-headed and serious, but these days it seems he’d forget his head if it were not securely attached.”
Soft laughter seemed to circle them, and Sarah looked at their warm, familiar faces with a surge of gratitude for the providence that had brought her to Pleasant Valley. She’d hoped for a new life when she came here, and God had made that life fuller than she could have imagined.
“Your turn to hold Rachel’s little son.” Leah leaned across to put the baby in her arms. “Of course you’ve already met him.”
“Ja, I have that.” She smiled, stroking the soft fuzz on the baby’s head. “He came out crying, and a better pair of lungs I’ve never heard. Rachel may have her hands full with this one.”
“At least my other three are big enough to help with their baby bruder.” Rachel’s gentle face curved in a smile. “And Gideon would gladly do everything but nurse him if he didn’t have to go to work.”
Women and babies . . . for a moment Sarah’s heart ached with the familiar longing to have a baby of her own. She felt a touch on her shoulder and knew it was Aaron even before she looked up at him.
“Are men banned from this circle?” he asked, glancing around.
“Not if you’re willing to talk about babies and child-raising,” Anna said, rising. “But I must bring out some snacks for the children, and I’m certain sure someone will be ready for another dessert.”
Murmuring something about helping, Leah followed her sister toward the house.
“I have driven them away,” Aaron said, smiling down at Sarah. “I didn’t mean to. So this is Rachel and Gideon’s little one.” He touched the small hand that was curved against Sarah’s dress. “He’s so tiny.”
“They grow so fast.” She stroked the baby’s soft hair. “He is actually bigger than Molly’s boppli was at this age.” Her voice choked unexpectedly with tears. “I wish . . .” she said softly.
“I know.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder, and his voice was low under the chatter of the others. “Whether we have a child of our own or not is in God’s hands, and we will accept that and love each other just as much.”
She put her hand over his, too moved to speak.
“Never forget that you already have babies, Sarah. You bring them into the world. How can they not be a part of you?”
The hurt seemed to smooth out of her heart as she held Aaron’s hand and looked down at the infant in her arms. Aaron was right. God had truly blessed her, and she must never forget that.
GLOSSARY OF PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH WORDS AND PHRASES
ach. oh; used as an exclamation
agasinish. stubborn; self-willed
ain’t so. A phrase commonly used at the end of a sentence to invite agreement.
alter. old man
anymore. Used as a substitute for “nowadays.”
Ausbund. Amish hymnal. Used in the worship services, it contains traditional hymns, words only, to be sung without accompaniment. Many of the hymns date from the sixteenth century.
befuddled. mixed up
blabbermaul. talkative one
blaid. bashful
boppli. baby
bruder. brother
bu. boy
buwe. boys
daadi. daddy
Da Herr sei mit du. The Lord be with you.
denke. thanks (or danki)
Englischer. one who is not Plain
ferhoodled. upset; distracted
ferleicht. perhaps
frau. wife
fress. eat
gross. big
grossdaadi. grandfather
grossdaadi haus. An addition to the farmhouse, built for the grandparents to live in once they’ve “retired” from actively running the farm.
grossmutter. grandmother
gut. good
hatt. hard; difficult
haus. house
hinnersich. backward
ich. I
ja. yes
kapp. Prayer covering, worn in obedience to the Biblical injunction that women should pray with their heads covered. Kapps are made of Swiss organdy and are white. (In some Amish communities, unmarried girls thirteen and older wear black kapps during worship service.)
kinder. kids (or kinner)
komm. come
komm schnell. com
e quick
Leit. the people; the Amish
lippy. sassy
maidal. old maid; spinster
mamm. mother
middaagesse. lunch
mind. remember
onkel. uncle
Ordnung. The agreed-upon rules by which the Amish community lives. When new practices become an issue, they are discussed at length among the leadership. The decision for or against innovation is generally made on the basis of maintaining the home and family as separate from the world. For instance, a telephone might be necessary in a shop in order to conduct business but would be banned from the home because it would intrude on family time.
Pennsylvania Dutch. The language is actually German in origin and is primarily a spoken language. Most Amish write in English, which results in many variations in spelling when the dialect is put into writing! The language probably originated in the south of Germany but is common also among the Swiss Mennonite and French Huguenot immigrants to Pennsylvania. The language was brought to America prior to the Revolution and is still in use today. High German is used for Scripture and church documents, while English is the language of commerce.
rumspringa. Running-around time. The late teen years when Amish youth taste some aspects of the outside world before deciding to be baptized into the church.
schnickelfritz. mischievous child
ser gut. very good
tastes like more. delicious
Was ist letz? What’s the matter?
Wie bist du heit. how are you; said in greeting
wilkom. welcome
Wo bist du? Where are you?
RECIPES
Grandma’s Noodles
1 whole egg
3 egg yolks
1 to 2 cups flour
3 cups chicken broth
Beat together the whole egg and yolks. Add flour until a stiff dough forms. Turn out onto a well-floured board and let rest for 15 minutes. Using flour as needed and a large breadboard, roll the dough out to a paper-thin sheet. Cover with tea towels and let dry for several hours. Cut the sheet of dough into quarters, then roll up each quarter and slice very thinly. Shake out the rounds of dough into noodles. Add to boiling chicken broth and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring to avoid sticking. Delicious served with fried chicken or over mashed potatoes. Makes 6 to 8 servings.