Big Decisions (30 page)

A
ND SO, ONE GLAD
day in August, little Andrew Lee was born at a midwife’s home-birthing center in Jefferson County. The midwife and her unmarried sister were Amish. Mam was a bit unenthusiastic about the prospect of having Lizzie go there, but Lizzie maintained her aversion to a hospital, telling Mam there was no use arguing, she simply was not going back to the hospital.

Stephen had his wish, a baby boy named Andy, and his smile was wide and genuine for a long time after Andy entered the world. Lizzie was a bit disappointed, surprised at the sight of her little boy. Laura had been so adorable, with dark skin and a nice amount of hair, but Andy was very white with only a bit of hair on top of his head. She didn’t say anything about it, of course, especially not to Stephen, but Andy just wasn’t very cute.

It was a great consolation to think of Jason, her brother. He was about the homeliest baby she had ever seen. Now, as a teenager, he was so handsome with his curly brown hair and crinkling blue eyes.

Mary and Barbara Swarey, the midwives, were the exact opposite of that grouchy nurse at the hospital. They were quiet, encouraging, and often smiling. They held little Andy for no reason at all, except because they wanted to hold him. That was so inspiring to Lizzie, because he wasn’t really a cute baby. Mary would come to Lizzie’s room, wrap Andy warmly and securely in a fuzzy blue blanket, then sit down in the little wooden, armless rocking chair and rock him, all the while talking to Lizzie about babies and children and life in general.

Oh, it was truly the greatest blessing to be there, and Lizzie valued every hour she spent with the midwives. At night, when Andy would become restless and cry, one of them would appear like some magical person in a light-colored housecoat with a white scarf tied around her head and quietly murmur to the baby. She expertly scooped him up and took him away, cuddling and consoling him as she went. Lizzie drifted off into another few hours of blissful slumber.

Sometimes they brought him to be fed and then stayed to help her. They arranged the pillows, quietly encouraging her, telling her over and over to relax and hold her baby gently, until she had truly mastered this hopelessly difficult art of breast-feeding.

It was the most wonderful, rewarding feeling to know she was quite adept at feeding her baby. He would burp soundly and go right off to sleep, warm and contented, trusting her for all his needs. It was so different from Laura’s birth, this feeling of accomplishment. She had a newfound confidence that taking care of this baby was something she would be perfectly able to do.

When one of Mary’s girls brought her supper tray, Lizzie opened her eyes wide as a smile of appreciation spread across her face. On the tray were two large yellow ears of corn, perfectly cooked, with a small dish of salad full of sliced tomatoes, carrots, and other fresh vegetables from Mary’s garden. Alongside was a thick slice of homemade oatmeal bread and a small dish with a pat of bright yellow butter made from the cream of their own cow. There was also a small glass dish of golden honey from the midwives’ own beehives down by their orchard, which Lizzie thought was simply the most extraordinary thing she had ever heard of.

When Lizzie began to eat, she wished there were two slices of bread on her tray and two more ears of corn. Salad wasn’t very filling, but then Mary and Barbara ate healthily and weren’t overweight. They knew that good nutrition without a lot of unnecessary calories was the best for a nursing mother, especially when she tended to be on the heavy side the way Lizzie was.

After Lizzie had eaten everything, Barbara brought a pretty glass dish piled high with ice-cold chunks of watermelon. The fruit was delicious. So good, in fact, that Lizzie resolved to turn her own dry, little hilltop garden into a garden just like Mary’s. She would plant plots of herbs and teas and have different flowers and vegetables all growing in neat squares, one complimenting the other like pictures of gardens in seed catalogs.

She even wanted a cow to make her own butter. She would ask Stephen to get a few hives of bees, and she would get the recipe to make this light, spongy, oatmeal bread. She had, quite simply, never been as inspired to eat healthy things and grow them in her own backyard as she was now with this supper tray.

That evening Stephen brought Laura to meet baby Andy. She was not quite two years old, and her eyes were very large and scared as Stephen carried her into Lizzie’s room. She had gotten carsick on their trip across the mountain. Stephen had cleaned her up as best he could, which tugged at Lizzie’s heart. Laura was so brown and smelled bad and was so afraid, seeing her mother in such a strange place. Mam walked behind Stephen, barely able to conceal the urgency she felt to see the new baby boy.

Lizzie reached for Laura, but she turned her face away and clung to Stephen.

“Maidsy!” Lizzie said pleadingly. Laura turned her head a tiny bit so that she could peep out with one eye from her position on Stephen’s shoulder.

Mam picked up Andy, whom she had finally found in the little wooden crib, and was delightedly pulling on the blankets, trying to have a better view of his face.

“Oh, my goodness!” she chuckled, laughing the way she always did when she saw a new baby for the first time.

“Ach, my! Isn’t he cute, Lizzie? Why, he’s about the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed, clearly enamored of this pale little grandson.

Lizzie’s heart was filled with gratitude.

“Do you think he’s cute, Mam? Really?”

“Why, of course!”

She said this as if there was absolutely no question that anyone would ever think he was a homely baby. Why, of course he was cute with those adorable big blue eyes and that wispy hair which would grow in thick and blond. Mam laughed and laughed, her stomach shaking the way it always did, as she unwrapped Andy, checking him fully from head to toe, while Stephen held Laura and peered over her shoulder and laughed with her.

Stephen liked Mam. He always had. Lizzie thought it was very nice to have her husband like her mother. Weren’t there a whole pile of mother-in-law jokes around? They didn’t apply to Mam and Stephen, which always made Lizzie feel secure and happy.

When Laura finally did leave the safety of Stephen’s shoulder, she sat a bit stiffly on Lizzie’s lap. Mam brought the new baby for her to meet. Lizzie couldn’t help but notice the haughty indifference with which she met her new brother, her back held stiff and straight. She glanced at him with no emotion before burying her head in Lizzie’s shoulder and crying her little heart out.

Lizzie quickly bent her head to console her. Stephen reached for her, and Mam laughed some more, telling them that Laura’s behavior was perfectly normal for a child. She would likely be a bit difficult for a few weeks until she became accustomed to the idea of sharing her parents with someone else.

After her family left to go back home, Lizzie had a few moments of unsteadiness, knowing those feelings of inadequacy would return unless she was strong. Right now it was very much like keeping a boat afloat on choppy seas, bravely keeping her eyes on the lighthouse. God was there, she supposed, and would keep her from sinking whenever a wave of despair hit. She would not allow herself to sink or to be intimidated by feelings of inadequacy.

Mary and Barbara were a great help. To them, there was almost nothing that rivaled the blessings of motherhood and babies. It was all a gift from God and not something to allow to bury you. They didn’t think the way Lizzie did. They had a whole bright attitude about having children, which amazed her.

They actually thought of babies as a very special gift, a blessing straight from heaven. Why wouldn’t someone want lots of precious babies? They were so cute and special and sweet, binding a family forever with bonds of love.

So was it any wonder then, that Lizzie felt very much like a queen in her own little world when she slipped on her navy blue dress, pinned her black apron around her waist, adjusted her white covering, and bade Mary and Barbara good-bye? They had helped her view motherhood in such a different light so that the resistance that had made her first year with Laura quite miserable completely vanished.

She was a mother now, a real mother with two children and a house. She had a husband beside her, and, if things got really scary and crazy, a mother who laughed at babies and said they were a lot tougher than they looked. New babies never frightened Mam, even when they choked or got sick or wouldn’t nurse or had diarrhea. There was always something that worked, and if nothing else, you whisked them off to the doctor in town and he’d know what to do.

In the weeks that followed, Lizzie found it so much easier to cope with having this second baby. On one afternoon, however, Laura simply refused to cooperate with anyone, even Mam, throwing fits until Lizzie spanked her. Afterwards, Laura cried brokenheartedly, and Lizzie pitied her so much she started crying herself, telling Mam she was going to take a nap. But in truth, she lay on her bed with little, stubborn, angry Maidsy beside her and cried and cried and cried.

But that was it. Never again did she come close to feeling so overwhelmed. She found that when she got up in the morning, her first thoughts were with the children and not of herself and how she felt.

She also found that you could survive quite well on five or six hours of sleep. And Laura learned to love Andy more with each passing day, which made Lizzie’s life quite a bit easier. Stephen was so kind and attentive. He was a very good father to Laura, even if he felt clumsy and ill at ease with newborn Andy. He could do almost anything with Laura, and she would listen amazingly well.

Stephen built his furniture shop as an addition to the barn. He made different articles of furniture in the evenings. He loved the work, learning as he went along, making hutch cupboards and desks, among other pieces. He would start a fire in the woodstove, then bundle Laura up in her coat, the little navy blue one with a round collar that his sister, Sharon, had made for her. He tied her little white scarf securely around her head, straightened up, and took her small brown hand in his bigger one. Together they would go to the shop while Lizzie cleared away the supper dishes.

Laura would play quite contentedly beneath his worktable for hours. She played with blocks of wood or shavings, along with any tool he would allow her to have. When they returned, smelling of wood shavings and wood smoke, Laura would smile happily and have her bath willingly, telling Lizzie in her halting language about her evening with Dat.

Andy, however, was a bit of a problem when it was time for his feeding. He would not always nurse well, so Lizzie became a bit flustered about it again. She tried different ways of holding him, but she became increasingly frustrated at his lack of skill. He refused to take a pacifier.

One day when Lizzie was feeling particularly stressed, she heard footsteps on the front porch and then a small knock. The door opened a bit and someone called, “Are you home, Lizzie?”

Edna! Lizzie recognized her voice immediately. Her cousin Edna from Jefferson County!

Instantly she was at the door, warmly greeting her favorite cousin, Edna, who had walked up the hill from the farm where Uncle Elis had gone to pay a visit to Dat and Mam. Edna was also married and had two children, and because she lived in Jefferson County, Lizzie did not get to see her or her family very often. So it was a special treat for Edna to come to see her new little boy.

They settled themselves in the living room, talking as fast as they could until they both laughed, suddenly unsure if they were actually listening to what the other was saying. Edna exclaimed over Andy, then sat back on the sofa as Laura began to nurse him.

She clucked in her usual frustration, then looked at Edna. “Why can’t I nurse a baby right?” she asked.

Edna’s eyes narrowed as she watched Lizzie’s hurried attempts.

“Well, for one thing, sit back. Relax. Put up you feet and sing as loud as you can!”

They both burst out laughing, although Lizzie felt like crying.

“I’m serious, Lizzie. You’re way too nervous. No wonder he doesn’t nurse. You’re holding him as tightly as you possibly can!”

“I’m just not good at this,” Lizzie wailed.

“Yes, you are. Learn to relax and then try it.”

With Edna’s guidance, Lizzie did begin to see what she meant. Frustrated, she was holding her baby much too tightly. He kept squirming and crying, trying to free himself from her hold.

After Edna’s visit, the situation vastly improved. By the time Andy was a few months old, Lizzie could finally understand why mothers nursed their babies and didn’t use formula. Lizzie guessed she was just not quite a natural mother the way some women were, like Emma and Mandy. Or Mam. Or almost anyone else.

She had to learn by trial and error and lots of self-inflicted hardships. She wasn’t naturally inclined to be a calm, serene person when it came to having babies, no matter how Mary and Barbara made her feel. But she was learning. She no longer thought that having a baby was an affliction, something terrible that you tried to avoid as determinedly as possible.

It was just all in one’s head. She had to stop worrying and relax, as Edna had shown her, and each new problem would eventually take care of itself. That thought was extremely comforting.