Abram's Daughters 03 The Sacrifice (20 page)

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Leah was nodding her head, as if to say she agreed.

Somewhat startled, Hannah stared at the tree. "Seems in me you've embraced the beliefs of Englishers. You're goin' backward 'stead of forward in the faith of our Anabaptist forefathers."

"You're upset because I found mercy and grace at a Mennonite church, ain't so?" Mary Ruth asked. "And 'cause I'm living here with fancy folk, too. Isn't that your biggest worry, really?"

Hannah tried her best to share the things that troubled her deeply possibly living forever apart from Mary Ruthbut her twin was closed up to the Old Ways, it surely seemed. Mary Ruth insisted she'd found a "precious new thing," and nothing Hannah could say made a bit of difference.

She and Leah trudged through the snow to the sleigh and horse. Hannah felt awful glum as they rode into the crisp ami icy night, back to the Ebersol Cottage. Truth be told, she almost wished they'd gone straight home after the Stoltzfusvisit. .'

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LmIi, come inside quick!" Aunt Lizzie called to her from the

In M way.

1 I rah and Hannah hurried into the kitchen. "What is it?"

lull asked, fear gripping her. She and Hannah followed Lizzie

l.'.i.iir.s.

I "Is Mamma all right?" Hannah asked softly.

I I an ill tiptoed into her parents' bedroom, shocked to see

If in ma thrashing about, crying out with her wrenching

lltis.

I "This is like nothing she's ever experienced before," Lizzie

lid i hem in hushed tones, eyes wide with concern. "She's

rvci uttered a single cry in childbirth . . . never!"

Mat sat off to the side of the room as was customary,

liMigh Leah noticed the agitation written on his face as he

l|i| the newspaper raised high to shield his view.

I Lizzie asked Hannah, who was still standing in the hall, to

nil downstairs. "And, Leah, won't you go 'n' boil some

Iter.'" . . . .>..,., . ; , .-,. . .;

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"Jah," said Leah, her heart in her throat.

"Please close the door behind you," Lizzie said over her shoulder.

Mamma's in trouble! Leah rushed downstairs to put a kettle of water on the wood stove. Swiftly she headed back upstairs to stand at Mamma's bedside. Her heart broke as she watched

Mamma struggle so. She wanted to do something to help take Mamma's pulse, perhaps, while Dat counted the seconds steadily. ]ah, this one thing I can do!

Tenderly she held her mother's weak arm, feeling the pulse . . . much too slow. Mamma's heartbeat was fading in strength even as Leah pressed her fingers against the white wrist.

"Hannah must ride immediately to get the midwife," Leah said, reliving the night Sadie had travailed with the birth of her dead son.

"No . . . no, it should be the Hexedokder," said Dat, still hiding behind his paper. "We daresn't take any chances."

Mamma tried to lift her head. "No, Abram, not..." Her voice trailed off.

"Ida does not want the powwow doctor settin' foot in this house," Lizzie insisted, clearly speaking on behalf of Mamma. "Better to call for Anna Mae Yoder, the midwife. She'll know what to do."

"Well, whoever Hannah gets, tell her to make it snappy!" demanded Dat, lowering his newspaper momentarily.

Reluctant to leave Mamma's side, Leah turned and fled the room yet again.

"What's happened ... to my prayer ... veiling?" Ida

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|m>I'ihI, reaching her right hand up and finding her head bare ' he lay in her bed. She felt utterly dismayed at this discov-

. her long hair having come loose from its bun. Such proi u^ed labor . . . never ending it seemed. She tried hard to i Hi the words, make them sound sensible, understandable,

i her lips would not cooperate. Ever so frustrating when she

11 lift! to communicate this needful thing.

"My dear, your head covering's unnecessary just now," I'liun said, his face close to hers. She smelled pipe tobacco it his breath, sweet and soothing, and she longed for him to

I > ill I her in his arms.

"I'm sinking, Abram. Oh, Lizzie . . . help me. I fear I'm ai .Illn'."

"You're right here, dearest sister." It was Lizzie's voice, soft "id gentle. "The midwife will be on her way soon. Press on, I'l.i. Don't give up."

"Find my . . . prayer veiling," she said again, yearning for

I1 She made an excruciating effort to open her eyes. "Please I' i this thing ... I ask."

She was aware of Abram's hand on hers, the gentle dabl'iii|j; of a damp towel at her forehead. "Ida .. . dear one," he ,,d.

She fell into what seemed to be a deep sleep, suddenly free

I slabbing pain. In her stupor, she felt the loving hands of

H Iut Lizzie or Leah placing her head covering atop her head, 'ml I hen tying it tenderly beneath her chin.

"Da Hen sei mit du . .. the Lord be with you," said Lizzie .nid kissed her forehead.

A blissful warm nothingness overtook her, and she was helpless to resist. -.....';.; ; ; . :.

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Hannah felt she was nearly flying in the family sleigh, hui rying the mare as best she could. After dropping the midwile off at home, she turned right around and rode up the road t < > the Nolts' place. There she timidly knocked on the door, only to stand on the porch, waiting. In her dire need for a quick response, she remembered it was growing quite late and looked to see if the Christmas tree was still blazing merrily in the front window. She stepped to the side of the door and saw the front room was dark; not a light was on anywhere on the main level of the house that she could tell. Thinking she best hurry, she pressed the doorbell and stepped back, hearing the ding-dong-ding of the chime, feeling terribly intrusive ami wishing there was a way to alert Mary Ruth without waking up the entire family.

As it turned out, Dan Nolt came to the door in his long bathrobe and slippers. She told him why she'd come at such an hour, apologizing. "Shall I call for Dr. Schwartz?" the man asked with concern in his eyes.

"The Amish midwife is with Mamma now" was all she said.

"Very well," he said. "But if you have any qualms at all... the doctor is just around the corner. It would be no trouble at all to summon him."

Hannah wasn't sure what to do; with both Aunt Lizzie and the midwife tending to Mamma, surely all would be well. "Denki, but no," she said shyly. It was terribly unnerving to be speaking about Mamma's care with the head of this English household, of all things!

Soon she found herself upstairs in the grand house, waiting for Mary Ruth in her fine-looking bedroom. Her twin

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i>Mt'kly dressed around, anxiety in her eyes. And together the i "-I i i)l'I hem hurried home.

"My friend and sister in the Lord."

Rousing herself, Ida recognized the dim voice as Annie ' l.u) Yoder's. The midwife and her black bag were present at

I i.I Annie Mae would help spare her life and her baby's,

Annie Mae examined her and immediately said she would ' N'lnpr to reposition the baby. "It's breech," she said, placing > in It- bands on Ida's abdomen, attempting to begin the for-nil roll, moving the baby up and out of the pelvic bones. 'In- did this several times, but there was no change in the hiliy's position, she said.

"The child lies directly across the uterus," Annie told

I1 itiii.

"Horizontal?" Lizzie asked. "'Tis dangerous, ain't so?" "Jah," saidsAnnie Mae softly, "the shoulders will lead the

way into the birth canal... if I can't reposition the baby." "Well, keep tryin'," Abram insisted. Annie said meekly, "I fear Ida bleeds too much for that." Ida, in her haze, took Annie's words to mean real trouble.

Hlu-'d heard of rare breech positions. But this. Oh, my dear

I>iihe's life is in jeopardy. Father in heaven, help Annie Mae know

what to do!

The intense contractions began again. She held on to the

twisted sheet, desperately wanting to control her cries but to

in) avail.

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"lOeuerly JU e w> i s

"My dear Ida, the baby and you . . . both are in an awful bad way," the older woman said when the birth pangs abated momentarily.

"Help my wife live," Abram said. "This I beg of you."

No . . . no, Abram . . . the baby's life is most important. Life for this our son.

But try as she might, she could not verbally express her urgent wish. She squeezed Abram's hand the simple yet difficult squeeze of her fingers on his callused flesh.

"She understands you. Now, get on with it!" said her husband.

Ach, Abram, be ever so kind, she thought.

"Work with me, Ida. Help me deliver this child."

"Why not try turning the baby once more?" Lizzie was saying, ever near.

"Ida's hemorrhaging strongly" came the solemn answer. "1 scarcely feel her pulse."

In a haze of confusion, Ida did her best to follow Annie's instructions, attempting to be stoic, as she'd always been in the past. In the far recesses of her mind, she strangely recalled that never before had she needed a speck of coaxing or help. Not even with the delivery of twins.

Such a dreadful pain exploded through her, wounding her, lingering longer than before. Deadly. It continued, shuddering its fury within her till she felt she might break asunder. O LordJesus, I call upon your name.

"Do something!" Abram commanded. "Spare my wife!"

Annie Mae made the offer of ether. "Just a sedative whiff."

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I "I Vnki , . . but no. I must hear . . . my baby's cries," Ida^liiif!! >l lo say.

H| "Plciisc let Annie help you, Mamma," Leah urged. .

|Pl Kin could feel Annie Mae's breath on her cheek now,

iihu'lii)', Abram's. She was aware of the midwife's grip on her

>ik kind. She felt at once like a small girl again . . . she saw

>i- dmi sided Martin birdhouse in Hickory Hollow, where

U'YI ciown up in her parents' big farmhouse . . . the white

i 111IIitiiise shooting up tall from a yellow daisy-strewn

uliiw. Martins flew together in family units, going to

ii'Iiut climes come autumn. Staying together. . .

She felt torn between this world and the next, weary of

iMn pilgrim way, drawn no, pulled ever so gently, even lov-

"inly :hh1, oh, she longed to allow herself to simply let go.

i i 11 v ; way to Glory Land, that home of her Lord and Savior

11' ir her heart, her spirit, her very being craved to be.

I'm something held her fast. Her dear baby was on his

is I lis little body was hankering for life, for air to breathe.

I In. wit boy would grow up without his mamma; she knew

ilir. in her bones. He was going to grow under the influence

I Ahr;im, to learn to plow and cultivate the soil. The good

mli . . . Oh, this son I am giving life to.

An image of a pond glistened as a breeze made the sun's I- i-isi's sparkle on the surface. Then, away in the distance, a ."iithful figure came walking toward her.

( )/i, Mamma . . . I see you. You're coming for me!"My darling mother," Leah was saying. But Ida was confused by her daughter's words, mixed up willi her own mother's image near the radiant pond.

"Hang on, Ida," Abram said from the corner of the room.

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A surge of energy she had not known in hours filled her completely. She raised her head, leaning on her elbows, and opened her eyes to see Leah and Lizzie on her right and Annie Mae on her left. Dear, dear gray-headed Annie. How many babies had she safely seen into this world?

"Lie back, sweet Ida. Rest now," Annie whispered.

Abram's newspaper closed quickly and she heard him rise from his chair. Once again he came to sit on the bed. His kisses were on her face, her lips, mingled with salty tears. "You stubborn woman," he said. "Ich lieb dich . . . still, I love ya so."

The midwife spoke again, encouraging her to birth the babe before giving in to the sinking end. "I'll help ya through this hard valley."

"Oh, Mamma . . . no!" Leah sobbed and the bed trembled.

Leah's tearstained face became less and less visible, but Ida continued to hear the dear girl's voice. Lizzie's, too, now and then. Somewhere along the way, she knew Abram must have slipped out into the hallway. Faintly she heard his voice along with Mary Ruth's and Hannah's, as the sounds drifted in and out of her consciousness.

I bless your name, Lord Jesus. ...

The bewildering falling sensation came, plunging her down again. Yet she knew she must cling to the thread of life, not let it slip from her grasp until she heard the first birth cries.

My life is in your hands, Lord.

Soon they came. Loud and pitiless, her newborn baby heralded his arrival with a strong set of lungs.

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"It's a boy, Ida! Praise be, as healthy as they come," iiniuuinced Annie Mae.

Thank you, dear Lord. She longed to see her baby, to lay eyes on this miracle of life. Her and Abram's love ... in the lorin of a tiny man-child. She looked but saw only blackness.

Then, suddenly, he lay in her arms, nestling against her, moving, searching . . .

"Mamma, can you hear me?" Leah pleaded. Precious y;irl . . . ever so concerned. Should she be on hand, attending I he death of her mother?

Ida nodded, though weakening as the seconds sped by.

OK, my motherless son ...

"Don't struggle so, Ida," said Lizzie. "Rest now. Rest. . ."

Ida began to shake her head, back and forth slowly. No ... no! The battle cry continued in her brain. Someonemust care for this baby and his sister Lydiann, she longed to say I nit could not.

Hard as she might, she fought to live now, changing her mind. She must survive to care for her only son. She must live for him to*suckle, bond, be nourished . . . and he did so as she lay there. Clawing at the walls of life her happy sweet lile she gasped for her final breaths, her very lifeblood seep-

ing away.

"I love you, Mamma," Leah said, lying down on the bed.