Big Decisions (29 page)

“That’s a good question, Lizzie,” she said.

“Is it?”

“Yes. And you know, I don’t really know how to answer it. I wanted all my babies, every one of them, even if they were born almost every year.”

“But you’re not normal, Mam. Not where babies are concerned,” Lizzie said.

Mam laughed and laughed, her round stomach shaking as she did so, until she looked quizzically at Lizzie and shook her head. She took off her glasses to wipe them with the corner of her apron, the same way she always did.

“Oh, now, Lizzie, I think I’m quite normal.”

“Then I’m not. Mam, I don’t want another baby. Not ever, and it’s so hard to find anything in the Bible about that subject. It doesn’t say anything about the number of babies you’re supposed to have,” Lizzie said.

“Lizzie, now listen. The Bible doesn’t say one thing specifically about the way we dress. It doesn’t say we’re supposed to wear capes or make our dresses a certain way or any of that. Someone hundreds of years ago decided this is the way we should dress so we remain modest, and the tradition has been maintained all these years. Having babies is very likely much the same. Did you find the passage in the Bible where it says about women reaching their salvation through childbearing? I forget exactly where it is, but it’s there.”

“Mam, the preachers say grace is free. A gift. Isn’t grace our salvation? Then how come we have to have a whole pile of babies to get to heaven? That’s trying to earn our way in—you know that.”

Mam was quiet, turning her empty glass around and around.

“Lizzie, you think too much,” she said. “Why don’t you just stop trying to figure everything out and learn to accept whatever God sends? No matter what, and it’s hard to explain this, but having babies is a very good method of learning to give up our own will.”

“So, when you say that, you’re saying you had to give up every time a baby was born? Right? Huh?”

“Well, not really. I looked forward to each one, wondering if it would be a boy or girl, what it would look like, how much it would weigh. I was always happy with my babies.”

“Not Jason.”

“Yes, I was, Lizzie,” Mam said, becoming slightly perturbed, Lizzie could tell.

“He was homely-looking, you know that. And you cried in the bedroom, all by yourself, because he cried so much. I saw you.”

“Lizzie, with each baby you have, your motherly instincts become better. You become more relaxed, more focused on the baby’s needs and less and less on your own. That’s why it’s a good thing to just let God direct in your life, bearing children, learning through that to become more and more unselfish as time goes on. It is good for a woman to have children.”

Lizzie thought of the hospital and the grouchy nurses, her inability to nurse Laura, her overwhelming feelings of inadequacy. She had cried constantly, feeling as if she was washed overboard in stormy seas and would surely perish, all because of having had a baby. It was definitely not something she wanted to do ever again if she could help it.

“But then, what if I don’t have more children? What if I would be one of the first Amish women in the world to have only one? Does that mean God would be mad at me?”

“Ach, Lizzie, you make me tired. Sometimes I don’t know how to answer your questions.”

“So, you don’t know, right?”

“No, not really.”

“Look at Aunt Vera, in Ohio. She had two chidren, Leroy and Mary Ann. And I’m pretty sure she’ll go to heaven, Mam, as kindhearted as she is.”

Mam laughed. “Ach, yes, Lizzie. Vera is one person who had only two children. She had Leroy and Mary Ann and decided that’s enough of that. Bless her dear heart, I miss her. It’s time we go for a visit again. Did you know Homer bought a coal business now?”

“He did?” Lizzie said absent-mindedly, still worrying with the baby subject.

“Well, if I do have more babies, I’m not going to the hospital. I didn’t like it there. That one nurse was so mean, and I still think that’s what got me started crying,” she said.

“Lizzie, I’ve been to the hospital many, many times, and I’ve never had a nasty or mean nurse. Are you sure it was as bad as you say it was? Maybe you were overly sensitive.”

Lizzie shook her head.

“Huh-uh, Mam. She scolded me terribly for laying Laura crossways on the bed. I’ll never forget how that only added to my feeling of being overwhelmed with the responsibility of a new baby. She made me feel as if I wasn’t fit to have a baby, which, I suppose, I wasn’t, because she wouldn’t nurse right.”

“Your next one might be so different, Lizzie. You know and have learned a lot with Laura. Stephen wants a little boy, and after that, you’ll want more. You’ll see.”

On her way back up the hill, Lizzie was glad Mam didn’t have better answers She couldn’t prove that having a large family instead of a smaller one was a rule enforced by God. Big families were just an Amish tradition, the same as her clothes.

But, if she was quite honest with herself, the traditions of the Amish—of the forefathers, as the ministers said—was not something she took lightly. She supposed a church was the same as a school. You had to have rules or else everybody would just go out and do their own thing. What sense of structure and order would there be otherwise?

Yes, she would continue to wear a black shawl and bonnet to church, to wear black shoes and stockings, to comb her hair sleek and flat, to light her propane gas lamp and trim the wicks. She would wash with a wringer washer propelled by a gas motor, keeping up the old traditions and way of life because she wanted to. She never really wanted to change. Never. She loved her way of life, and she wanted to do these Amish things. She loved belonging to a group of people who believed in the same order.

Not that she perfectly followed every tiny aspect of the rules and regulations. She was supposed to wear a shawl and bonnet wherever she went in the wintertime. Even to town, when she went shopping. But a large woolen shawl was quite cumbersome in a store, the trailing fringes sometimes knocking things down.

Once, a little English girl had been terrified by Mam’s shawl and bonnet, running to her mother and hiding. Lizzie had been embarrassed, knowing the little girl was not used to seeing someone dressed in all black, especially with a long flowing shawl. Lizzie just wore a sweater, or a coat and a bonnet only when it rained or was very cold. Most of the young women did the same.

Well, she would wait and see. She would pray about this matter of children and, like Mam, leave it to God. Perhaps she would come to want one more baby, in time, and never any more after that. She bet no one except God knew how she dreaded the thought of having another baby.

Maybe God keeps record of families in the Book of Life. Kind of a report card for mothers. If you have 14 children you get an A+, if you have 12 an A, and on down to an F for having only one. But still, with report cards you can get away with an F if it’s only in one subject, as long as you have A’s or B’s or even C’s in other areas. Perhaps if she was as kind as she could be to Stephen and would not say one nasty thing if he got a dog, or call his hunting gear junk, she would earn an A in that category. Then if she only had two children, she’d still pass.

All these thoughts were silly and unnecessary, Lizzie decided, especially if salvation was a gift and was handed down free of charge. This was about the most confusing thing ever. If salvation was so free, why did you have to bother to live right and plain and simple? Why couldn’t you go out and do exactly anything you wanted and never have to worry if anything was right or wrong?

How nice were you to your husband if you gave him all he wanted, but refused to have more children? What if he was much too kindhearted to tell you he wanted a baby boy more than anything? A childish, selfish girl who didn’t want any more babies would probably earn a grade lower than an F on her report card, maybe a G, if there was such a thing. Someday, when she had the courage to approach Stephen about this subject, she would.

Not too much time elapsed until Lizzie had a good opportunity to ask Stephen that very question. He was sitting on the front porch, relaxing after his shower, tired from the day’s work, and glad to have the company of his wife and baby daughter. Lizzie settled beside him, and he reached for Laura, who gurgled happily and nestled against his shoulder. He patted her little bottom and smiled at Lizzie.

“She’s growing so fast. Can you believe she’s nine months old?”

“I know,” Lizzie said tightly.

“Is she crawling all over the place?”

“Not really all over the place. She doesn’t like the hardwood floor in the living room. It’s too slippery, and she flops down on her stomach and yells as loud as she can.”

“She’s some Maidsy,” Stephen said, grinning.

Maidsy was the pet name they used for Laura, and she recognized the word, lifting her head and looking at them when they said it.

Without warning, Stephen said, “About time for another one.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Lizzie’s heart jumped, flipped, then resumed beating normally, only a bit faster.

“You think so?” she breathed.

“Oh, yes! I’d love to have a little boy. An Andy!”

Lizzie swallowed, then looked away from Stephen, out over the hilltop, down to the tree line by the creek. For once in her life, she had absolutely nothing to say.

There it was. Stephen, Mam, God, and the Bible were all on one side, and she was on the other. She was pretty sure Emma and Mandy would stick with that first group of people and tell her the same thing Mam did. Men wrote the Bible, not women.

She knew what Mam would say about that, too. It wasn’t humans that wrote the Bible, it was the Holy Spirit. It was inspired by God, so really, those men, Malachi, David, Peter, John, all of them, were only vessels God used to write things he wanted everyone to know.

She may as well forget arguing about any of that.

“You’re not saying anything, Lizzie,” Stephen said gently.

“No. I’m not.”

Her words were sharp, a bit too loud, and very certain.

“Why not?”

“I…I…Stephen, we don’t want another baby!” she burst out.

“Not ever?”

“No!”

She got up, flounced into the house, and sat heavily on the sofa, feeling more miserable than she could ever remember. Why did everyone have to be so mean? Now Stephen, yet! At least Mam could be on her side if Stephen wasn’t. She was surprised to hear the front door opening. Stephen came in and sat beside her, handing Laura to her.

“Lizzie, don’t be upset. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Those were tender words, coming from Stephen, and they melted her heart into tiny little droplets that formed into real tears as she turned to him gratefully.

“I’m not upset, really. I just…well, I need a bit of time to think this thing through. I wish I would like babies better, and I wish I was a better mother, and I wish the Bible would say more about babies,” she said, tearfully.

“The Bible doesn’t spell things out in black and white, Lizzie. We have to figure out what makes us feel right with God and what doesn’t. We have choices.”

That statement from Stephen held a wealth of peace for Lizzie. Why, of course! He was so right. It was so simple and uncomplicated and worry-free! You could soon tell whether you had made a wrong or a right choice, simply by the way your conscience bothered you. She had often experienced that in her life.

So Lizzie calmed down and forgot about her anxiety at the prospect of having another baby. She figured she’d let the whole thing up to God. Like a heavy backpack strapped to her back, she loosened it and left it by the wayside for God to pick up and take care of.

The next morning, Lizzie was walking down the hill with Laura when she met Dat coming from the barn, his face lighting up at the sight of them.

“Hello, there! How’s our Maidsy?” he asked, grinning happily, and then stumbled on an uneven patch on the driveway. He fell heavily on his side as his legs gave way beneath him.

Lizzie rushed to his side.

“Dat! Oh, my word, Dat! Are you all right?” she asked, as she retrieved his straw hat from where it had rolled.

Grunting, Dat turned over and sat up, shaking his head in dismay.

“I’ll be all right. Just give me a hand.”

Setting Laura on the grass, Lizzie hurried over to grasp his hands, alarmed at the amount of strength it took to pull him up. For a terrifying moment she thought she wasn’t able to, and they would both fall heavily back down on the gravel.

Standing straight again, Dat gave a low laugh.

“Ach my, this M.S. is about as hard on my will as anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t have a choice. Suddenly, without warning, my brain doesn’t tell my legs to do what I want them to, and bang! Down I go!”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Nope, don’t have a choice. God decided to give me multiple sclerosis, and here I am. I gotta deal with it.”

He sighed, looking off into the distance.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know God will help me handle it. Me and Annie.”

He said this with so much pride in his beloved wife, and with so much courage and assurance that God would be there, that Lizzie felt inspired to the core of her being. Surely, if Dat could handle this dreaded disease, this loss of muscle control that would steadily worsen, she could give up enough of her own will about having a family.

Dat’s eyes were very blue and kind as he looked at Laura.

“She still looks like she’s been in the sun too long. She’s the cutest little thing. Bring her in and we’ll have a piece of shoofly pie, Lizzie.”

Lizzie loved Dat with all her heart. If Dat could look at his grim future with that much confidence, couldn’t she? She was, after all, his daughter. Slowly Lizzie was softening her grip on her own determination to have only one baby.