Humbled

by Patricia Haley

  Joel didn’t want to second-guess his decision. He’d come to terms with not getting help. He didn’t want his mother to stir up his doubt. Zarah was sleeping. He’d stay positive, although he respected what his mother was saying.

  “I guess she didn’t want to get alarmed if there wasn’t a real problem. Since I didn’t want to contribute to her stress, I went along with her request. She seems to be okay now. She’s sleeping.”

  “Well, that’s good, but I think she should see her doctor first thing in the morning and get checked out.”

  “I’m staying here tonight, and I’ll make sure she goes to the doctor tomorrow.”

  “Good. It’s better to be safe than sorry with a pregnancy.”

  “I agree, Mom. Thanks for the support. I needed to hear that.”

  “If you give me an hour, I can throw on some clothes and come over.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want you worrying. She’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine,” he said, letting his statement serve as affirmation.

  “I don’t mind coming over, not one bit,” she told him. “I can sit with her and give you a break.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but why don’t you stay put tonight? Trust me, Zarah is in capable hands. If I need you, I’ll call.” He wasn’t about to let his mother get worked up and stressed out too. Then he’d have two women in crisis; one was plenty. He appreciated her sentiments but graciously declined again.

  “Okay, son. Please call me in the morning to let me know how she’s doing. Please give her my love too.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Joel held the phone like it was a comforting blanket. His mother had given him the encouragement he needed, but it wasn’t quite sufficient. He had to get a more substantive dose. Joel did something he hadn’t done in months: he sincerely prayed for someone other than himself. He knelt on the floor and extended his arm and prayed for Zarah’s strength and healing. He tarried on his knees, wanting to get confirmation from God that his prayer had been heard. The presence of God didn’t saturate the room, but his inner peace was sufficient. He let the quiet soothe his soul.

  Renewed with a touch of grace, he tiptoed into the master bedroom and sat in a chair not far from the bed. He fidgeted to find a relaxing position. After a while, he gave up, realizing that as long as Zarah was in danger, there wasn’t a relaxing position for him. As she suffered, so would he.

  “Ahhh,” Zarah cried out. “Help me. Help me!”

  Joel heard the piercing cries, but he was groggy and couldn’t instantly process where he was or what was happening. He had dozed off in one chair, his legs outstretched and his feet resting on another. His glance sprinted around the room, searching for familiarity. Finally, the setting was registering. He was in their bedroom at home.

  “Help me, please!” Zarah wailed.

  Joel sprang into action. He kicked the chair out of his way and ran to the bedside. “I’m here,” he said, desperate to calm her down. The room was dark, but he could see Zarah’s silhouette. He grabbed her hand while attempting to turn on the light switch.

  “The baby,” she said, gripping his hand.

  He felt wetness on her hand and didn’t think much of it until the light came on. Joel stood next to the bed with her hand in his, stunned. Her hand was covered with blood, and the sheet had a large red spot near Zarah. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing, but Joel had to remain composed, despite the mounting horror. Zarah had to be put at ease until he could get her to the hospital.

  “Lie back,” he said and lifted her legs onto the bed. “Stay calm. I’m calling the ambulance.”

  “Joel, I don’t want—”

  He placed his index finger across her lips. “Shh. I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m calling the ambulance, and that’s the end of this discussion.” He rushed to the phone and dialed 9-1-1. He rattled off the requested information and set the phone on the nightstand.

  Zarah was balled up in the fetal position and moaning. Joel wished there was more he could do. He had to resign himself to waiting for the paramedics. He stroked her hair, believing his touch provided some small bit of relief. Her moans grew louder and more strained. He patted her hands, offering what comfort he could.

  “I have to run downstairs and open the door for the paramedics.”

  She clung to his hand, squeezing tightly. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

  He kissed her forehead, willing to use any technique that would help her to calm down. “I’ll run down and be back in less than a minute, but you have to let me go,” he said, peeling each of Zarah’s fingers from his hand. She gripped his arm as though he hadn’t said a word. “I promise to hurry down and be right back,” he said, kissing her forehead again, and pulled away.

  In dramatic fashion she reached for him. Joel exited the room and literally ran down the hallway and dashed down the stairs. He got to the door just as flashing lights were circling the foyer through the door’s side glass panels. He unlocked the door and snatched it open.

  “Is this the Mitchell residence?” one paramedic asked, entering the house with a medical kit.

  “Yes. Come right in,” he said, stepping to the side. “My wife, Zarah, is upstairs, in the master bedroom. It’s down the hall and around the corner.”

  Two paramedics traipsed up the stairs. Joel stayed out of their way but wasn’t far behind. When he approached the bedroom, he heard one of the medics asking Zarah questions. She was riled up and not very responsive. Joel poked his head around the corner so she could see him and hopefully settle down. His plan must have worked, because her muttering stopped once she made eye contact with him. Joel didn’t want to blink, afraid he’d lose his effect on her. The paramedics worked quickly. One continued checking her vital signs, while the other bolted downstairs and returned with a portable gurney.

  “Do you need me to help you get her downstairs?” Joel asked, uncomfortable with strangers carrying his wife.

  “We have her secured, Mr. Mitchell. We’re ready for transport.”

  They descended the stairs and carried Zarah outside to the ambulance. They slid the gurney inside.

  Joel watched. The scene seemed surreal to him. As the ambulance doors closed, he snapped back to the present. “Hang on!” he shouted. “I’m riding with my wife.”

  “Okay, but you’d better hurry. We’re ready to move.”

  Joel thanked the paramedics and hopped in. He sat next to Zarah in a cramped space, not caring two hoots about the inconvenience. Being with her negated the discomfort. Zarah was going in and out of consciousness. Despite the trauma she was suffering at the hands of fate, her beauty shone in the tight space.

  He traced the rim of her face. “I’m sorry for not coming home sooner,” he said, bending close to her ear.

  He wasn’t certain she could hear him. He clutched her hand and closed his eyes tightly as the ambulance careened down the road. Without prompting or pretense, he uttered a prayer, prepared to beg God for Zarah’s and the baby’s health. Joel remembered that he didn’t have to beg God for favors, blessings, or miracles. What God was going to do was done out of His grace, mercy, and abiding love.

  Joel reflected on those gifts from God, cleared his throat, and changed the tone of his prayer. “God, I’m asking you for divine healing for Zarah and the baby, but not because you owe me anything,” he said in a muffled voice. “I’m asking because you are God, and you are the almighty ruler of heaven and earth. Help my wife and baby right now, Lord, in Jesus’s name.” He closed with “Amen,” and a load dropped from his shoulders. A wave of peace flowed into the ambulance. Not only was Zarah going to be all right, but Joel also believed he was going to be too. He didn’t know how, but that wasn’t his concern. He’d let God work out the details. Joel’s hands were already filled with more than he could handle.

  Chapter 44

  Zarah was put into an examining room with a team of medical professionals. She wasn’t completely sedated, but the doctor had given her some
thing to relax her. She was quiet and was resting comfortably while tests were performed. Joel had approved a transfusion since she’d lost a pint of blood. He knew her religious beliefs didn’t permit heroic efforts, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let Zarah and his baby die without medical intervention. It seemed as if each decision he made was greeted with controversy. Joel was barely hanging on. He’d step into the hallway to contact his mother. She’d want to know.

  “Mom,” he said, “I’m at the hospital with Zarah.”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you decided to take her, instead of waiting until the morning. I feel much better,” she said, punctuating her speech with a dry cough.

  Then it dawned on him. She went to bed rather early most evenings. He’d probably startled her awake by calling after ten, but now it was too late to undo ringing her phone. He’d press ahead and convey the troubling news. “I had no choice. She got worse.”

  “How much worse?” Sherry asked, sounding worried, which bothered him greatly. He didn’t want to worry her. His mother was one of the bright spots in his life, and Joel would fiercely protect her best interests, even against challenges he couldn’t control.

  “She had some bleeding—”

  His mother cut him off to say, “That’s not good. Has she lost the baby?”

  Joel didn’t know for sure. The ER team was working on her, and he didn’t want to entertain the notion. So he conveyed the little he knew and the results he desired. “The doctors are doing the best they can, but I’m praying for her to be okay. She has to be,” he said, bracing himself against the wall. “My baby has to be okay.” He knew God had the power to fix this problem. He’d have to dust off his faith and let it tackle doubt and fear.

  “Don’t you worry, son. I’m on my way.”

  “Mom, there’s no need for you to come. It’s late. Why don’t you wait until morning?”

  “Joel, in a few more hours it will be morning.”

  He chuckled.

  “And you’re wasting time trying to stop me from coming to the hospital. I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon, and I love you dearly.” He soaked in her consoling words. “We’ll get through this together.”

  He thanked his mother and breathed slower. Help was in progress, and comfort was on the way. His moment should have been complete, but there was a nagging omission. Admittedly, Tamara wasn’t his favorite person, but she’d been some sort of confidant to his wife. He couldn’t discount their bond; neither did Joel feel a need to do so. Zarah was in crisis and could use every extra ounce of encouragement available to her. His wife would want Tamara to know. More importantly, she deserved to know. He searched his contact list and queued up a text message.

  Zarah at Providence Park Hospital in Novi.

  Over the next hour, Joel grew anxious. Nobody was telling him anything. Zarah was sleeping, but she wasn’t out of danger. He had to get answers. He jumped up and hustled into the hallway, nearly slamming into his mother, who was on her way into the room.

  “Excuse me, Mom. I didn’t see you,” he said after practically plowing her down.

  “Don’t bother about me. How’s Zarah? Is there any update on the baby’s condition?”

  Joel ran his hand over his head and let his gaze sweep the floor. “I haven’t heard anything for the past hour. Somebody has to tell me something,” he said, raising his voice.

  Sherry tapped his shoulder. “Getting worked up isn’t going to help. Why don’t you find a doctor, get some answers? I’ll sit here with Zarah.”

  Joel took the advice. He harnessed his anxiety and slowed the hustle in his steps. He went to the nurses’ station.

  “Can someone give me an update on Zarah Mitchell?” he asked the two people sitting behind the counter, not sure if they were nurses or doctors. He really didn’t care who they were as long as they provided an update on his wife’s health.

  “I’ll have the doctor meet you in the room. Right now she’s upstairs with another fetal emergency.”

  Joel leaned on the counter. “Is there only one doctor on duty in the ER?”

  “Only one ob-gyn.”

  His anxiety boiled again. “So who’s taking care of my wife?”

  “Rest assured, Mr. Mitchell, that your wife is receiving quality care.”

  He bit his tongue in frustration. Debating with the nurse wasn’t useful. He terminated the conversation.

  “Joel!” he heard someone shout. He turned and saw Tamara barreling toward him. “I got your message. Where’s Zarah? How is she?” Tamara rattled off her questions frantically.

  “She’s in an examining room,” he said, walking away from the counter. Tamara followed.

  “I’ve been worried to death since I got your message. Thanks for letting me know. Is she going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Joel answered curtly.

  Tamara grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “Why don’t you know?”

  He wiggled from her grip. “Because they haven’t told me yet.” Joel wasn’t irritated by her line of questioning. He was just angry that he didn’t have suitable answers. It wasn’t Tamara’s fault. It was his.

  They continued another ten yards before they reached Zarah’s room. He found his mother sitting close to Zarah’s bed with trails of tears lining her cheeks. Tamara was on his heels. Shockingly, he wasn’t bothered. He actually appreciated her concern. He hadn’t known her to express support for anyone. So Zarah had to be special to get Tamara’s heart to warm up.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked, approaching her and Zarah’s bedside.

  Sherry wiped her face with the smashed tissue she was holding. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know Tamara was with you.”

  “Hi, Sherry.”

  Joel could tell something had happened, and his mother seemed uneasy about talking with Tamara in the room. “Tamara, do you mind stepping out for a minute?” he asked. “I need to speak privately with my mother.”

  “Can I at least stay for Zarah?” Tamara asked, with such a look of despair, he was compelled to oblige.

  “Sure, but please don’t wake her up.”

  Tamara went around to the other side of the bed and touched Zarah’s hand. “It’s Tamara. I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here,” she said with her voice cracking. Joel didn’t have to ask her to leave again. After her words were spoken, Tamara dashed from the room. Joel was too focused on what his mother had to say to follow Tamara and decipher her emotional state of mind.

  “Mom, I can tell you’ve been crying. What has you upset? Did the doctor come in while I was gone?” Zarah stirred, causing Joel to lower his voice to a whisper.

  “No one came in. These tears aren’t for Zarah,” Sherry replied, generating more confusion. He couldn’t understand why she was visibly upset.

  “Then what are they for?”

  “For my child,” he said.

  “Who? Me?”

  Sherry wiped her eyes with the tattered tissue and reached to get a fresh one from the table. “No. The baby I lost before you were born.” She dabbed her eyes again. “Seeing Zarah lying there, so helpless, has opened a wound I thought had long been healed. I guess you never really get over losing a child.” She squeezed her eyes and lips tightly, not letting another tear roll or a painful memory seep out. Zarah stirred again, but Joel wasn’t going to let up on his mother. She couldn’t drop a revelation like that and expect him to ignore her pain.

  “Mom, I didn’t think about the impact this might have on you. I shouldn’t have let you come here.”

  “You didn’t have to let me. This is where I belong. With my family, you, Zarah, and my grandbaby,” she said, extending her hand so that it hovered near the bed while clutching a wad of used tissues.

  “Mr. Mitchell,” the doctor said, sailing into the room. “I’d like to speak with you in the hallway.”

  Joel wanted to console his mother, but his gesture would have to wait. “Sure,” Joel said and hurried out. He and the doctor walked
several doors away from Zarah’s room. Joel watched Tamara ease back into the room.

  “How is she?” Joel asked, not letting the doctor give him a drawn-out spiel. He wanted the facts and fast, otherwise Joel would move her to Henry Ford Hospital, where there was no question about the quality of care Zarah would receive. “Tell me straight.”

  The doctor dropped the chart to his side. “The baby is in distress, and Zarah has lost quite a bit of blood.”

  Joel listened intently, but he didn’t hear anything he didn’t already know. “And . . .”

  “She’s still in the first trimester, which is a very critical phase of the gestation period. We’ll do everything we can to prolong the pregnancy. The good news is that she didn’t miscarry. The baby’s heartbeat is strong, but we are in the danger zone and have to consider this a high-risk pregnancy.”

  Thank goodness she hadn’t miscarried, Joel thought. He took solace in the news. “What’s the probability of our baby living?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” the doctor stated without further explanation.

  “Come on. You must have a better answer.”

  “I understand you want answers, but I won’t give you false hope.”

  “Give me an answer,” Joel demanded, drawing stares from the few nurses at the nurses’ station.

  “Fifty-fifty,” the doctor blurted.

  He’d demanded an answer, and once it came, Joel wasn’t prepared for the implications. He was crushed. He’d finally come to terms with being a father, and now that might be in jeopardy. “Is there another specialist we can get?”

  The doctor raised the chart and made a few marks with his pen. “Mr. Mitchell, I understand your concern, but you can rest assured your wife is receiving the best care we can provide.”

  Joel wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t be. Joel thanked the doctor and walked away, realizing that neither he nor the hospital could offer any more help.

  He trudged to Zarah’s room, squashing his feelings. His wife would see only the best of him, the strength that God was going to give him. She needed a hero, and he would be one for her. He entered the room, wearing a borrowed smile and exuding love for her, more than he’d given Zarah since she vowed to be his wife.