Janette Oke (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

Expectations

In April Janette put in her request to be moved from the mail delivery department at Adams and Westlake, and under the circumstances, her boss agreed. It was a difficult pregnancy, and signs seemed to show that a miscarriage was again a possibility. After having already lost one baby she was very concerned. Dr. Middleton, who was also a member of the church and a good friend, fought as best she could to keep the baby for them, and after many scares and a good deal of medication, things seemed to settle down.

Over the summer Edward continued his part-time position in the church as well as taking on additional janitorial duties, earning extra income to be saved for fall. When an opportunity to sell Watkins products came, he took that job too. The summer was long with Edward gone so much of the time and Janette's own body feeling so unfamiliar and awkward.

After working at the factory for about a year, Janette finally quit because of the impending birth. She turned down the offer of pregnancy leave because she did not intend to return to work after the baby arrived. Her fellow workers took her to lunch and presented her with a lovely gift. The soft, warm blanket was delightful to hold and fold, and then hold and fold again.

Janette spent a week with sister June in Chicago and returned with June's knitting machine, ready to prepare some things for the coming baby. She started a baby sweater, and quickly noticed that the whole process had captivated Edward's interest. Soon the “engineer” had taken over the task.

The next morning, Janette awoke to the sound of the clicking needles on the machine. There sat Edward, still in his pajamas, working away at a second baby sweater. In fact, he was nearly late for work that morning.

Other preparations were also underway. They had received Mrs. Yoder's permission to paint the little apartment, making it fresh and clean for the baby. Then they purchased a secondhand crib and dresser, stripping the old paint and applying a fresh white coat. Though crowded, the baby's corner of the bedroom was beginning to take shape.

August's hot days were particularly difficult this year for Janette. In mid-month, the church gave them a wonderful baby shower, well organized and extremely generous. They received a high chair, car bed, playpen, bathinette, bassinet, diaper hamper, plus many smaller items and lovely baby clothes. It was amazing to receive so many new things all at once, and Janette thanked God over and over for such wonderful people and their expressions of love.

Everything was ready for the arrival of their little one. Church girls were arguing over who would get the baby-sitting duties. Because of the expense, they had not had a trip back home. But the baby was due in October, and they were going to treat themselves by flying home for Christmas so they might present their new baby to the grandparents and other family members. Though Edward had declared it to be a boy, Dr. Middleton was now predicting a girl.

As was often the case, Janette expressed her deep feelings about the coming child in a little bit of verse. It began:

A baby's coming to our house
An answer of God to a prayer.
And if it be a boy or girl
We do not know—nor care.
We only know that in His love
He's chosen this way to say,
“I trust you to lead heavenward
My child day by day.”

The verse continued:

His days like all shall be numbered
And the day will come when I
Shall return him to you. “God grant it
That he shall be fit” is my cry.
May he live in a manner that when, Lord,
He answers your call, “Come home, son,”
He can stand in your presence undaunted,
Cleansed, through the death of your Son.

A short time before her due date, while Edward was at seminary and Janette was having her devotional time, she prayed again somewhat casually, reminding God that their child had already been given to Him. But that day she sensed the Lord speaking to her heart very clearly.

“Do you really mean that?”
He prompted.

“Yes, God, I mean it.”

“Really? You really mean it?”

Suddenly she knew that she had not—not really. But before she had finished her prayer time, she had given her coming child totally to the Lord. With tears, she worked her way through the struggle.

The due date came—and went. Janette visited her doctor and made an appointment to come again the following week. Janette prayed that she would not need the appointment, but she did. And then another still.

She heard the remark, “Are you still here?” more times than she could count, especially on Sundays when she again showed up at church. The two full weeks of being overdue felt like a hundred.

When Janette returned to the car after having kept the second overdue appointment and scheduled another for the following week, she was in tears. Edward was immediately concerned. Was something wrong?

How could she answer that? How could he possibly understand that everything was wrong even though nothing was? It was so very difficult to wait.

At least Janette could turn some of her thoughts homeward that week as sister Joyce's wedding date of October 22 approached. Joyce had moved to the Champion area and spent some time in the same bank where Janette had worked a few years before. Here she began dating Elmer Deal, a brother of Vivien who had been Janette and Margie's roommate and later married cousin Don. Elmer had been a friend of the family for quite some time and had visited the Hoadley home with the prairie cousins on several occasions. Kid sister Joyce had “grown up” since that time.

With Janette too far away and in no condition to even dream of attending the wedding, it helped to ease the longing to be with family when the next day she began to think that it might, at last, be time to call her doctor.

Chapter Twenty-three

Brian

Edward was in his Friday seminary class. Janette was home alone. For a while she debated whether what she was feeling was really “it” or not. Should she call or wait? At last she placed the call and was told that she had best get a taxi and come to Dr. Middleton's office. From there she was taken with the office nurse, June Embrey, also a friend, the remaining distance to the hospital.

She was pleasantly surprised to find a friend from church already there and in labor. They had often joked about sharing a hospital room, but Janette was to have delivered a few weeks ahead of Shirley. Now Janette was late—and Shirley was blessed with being early—so they were sharing a labor room, after all.

As soon as Edward arrived home from class and found Janette's hastily scrawled note, he hurried to the hospital and the long wait began. Janette had been admitted around four in the afternoon, but according to medical staff, not much was happening.

Later that evening Dr. Middleton asked Edward if he would like to see X-rays of his child and he assured her he would. When he returned, Edward shared what Dr. Middleton had discussed with him. If things continued to move slowly and nothing had happened by six o'clock the next morning, she would perform a C-section. It was then about ten o'clock at night.

Shirley was taken to delivery first. Coincidentally, both ladies shared the same doctor and were also both going to be delivering breach babies. Janette did not give Shirley much time with Dr. Middleton before she needed the delivery room as well. The doctor and nurses had to quickly care for the newly arrived baby Jody and rush Shirley from the room so they might get it prepared and Janette into it. Her baby was well on the way.

There was the scurry of switching patients, and then the gas mask was clamped over Janette's mouth, to her great relief. The next thing she knew, she was a mother. Their son arrived at 11:19 P.M., weighing nine pounds and three ounces, and though she still felt somewhat heady because of the anesthesia, the first sight of her new baby filled her with wonder and joy.

Janette could not seem to look at him long enough. Quietly she studied the precious bundle that the nurse held out for her to see. He had only a little hair, but what he did have was quite dark. The feature that drew immediate attention was his broad little hands. They were shaped just like his daddy's—even the doctor remarked about them. He was named Brian Edward, the name they had chosen before his appearance.

All too soon her new infant was whisked away, and Janette was taken to recovery. Though tired from the long wait, Edward greeted her with high spirits. He strutted about the room until the doctor happened to look his way and realized that the father would soon be a patient, too, if she didn't act quickly. Then he was given a chair and asked to put his head between his legs until he recovered from his faintness.

“Daddy” seemed none the worse for wear, and when Dr. Middleton was sure he was going to be fine, she promised him that he could drop by in the morning to see Janette and the new baby, though visiting hours were not normally until afternoon.

Edward finally went home to bed—and to make some phone calls to relatives back home to let them know that he had a son.

Janette was wheeled away and arrived in her hospital room, to her delight finding Shirley already occupying the room. The ladies laughed at how much of the birth experience they had shared together and then settled down for some much-needed rest.

All too soon morning dawned, and Janette raised up in her bed and propped a pillow behind her. Nurse after nurse paraded into the small room, but she was waiting rather impatiently for only one—the one who would bring little Brian back to her.

When at last the nurse arrived, she appeared somewhat agitated. Instead of placing the little bundle in Janette's waiting arms, she merely held him out for his new mommy to see. Janette reached out and took the tiny hand of her son.

It felt strangely cold. Janette was about to comment but then decided against it. She was a very new mommy and knew nothing about newborns or hospital procedures. When baby Jody was brought in to be nursed, Janette wondered further. It was around ten o'clock when Edward arrived, accompanied by Dr. Middleton. Janette still suspected nothing until the doctor began to speak.

“Janette, we're having trouble with your baby,” she said, and with those few words a surge of fear raced through Janette's whole being. A quick glance at Dr. Middleton's trembling lip alarmed her even more than the words. Doctors were trained to hide emotions well, and Janette knew that something was seriously wrong to affect her trusted doctor and friend in such a way.

“We've discovered a heart murmur,” Dr. Middleton went on to explain.

Then all the medical information spilled out. Dr. Middleton had been called back to the hospital by the nursing staff who were concerned at Brian's color. A pediatrician had been called in and had begun working over their baby at about six o'clock that morning and was continuing to do so.

The doctor spoke of a heart murmur and of an enlarged liver due to stress, but the reason for their son's condition was still a mystery. They were anxiously looking for answers.

Brian's brief visit to Janette's bedside must have been made with extreme anxiety for the nurse who held him, hoping that the new mother would not ask questions or delay his return to the nursery.

Shocked, Janette did not cry—did not even speak. She closed her eyes and prayed, but unbelievably her prayer was, “It's okay, God. You can take him.”

Why was she not fighting? She knew that it could only be that a few days earlier she had fought the situation through and had honestly been able to say, “Yes, God. He's yours. I really mean it.”

Janette had hardly finished her personal “letting go” when a doctor she had not seen previously joined them in the room and, as gently as possible, informed them that their baby boy had died. Tears flowed then—but there was still no fighting against the shattering news.

Janette was moved to a private room. She and Shirley and their two newborns would not be sharing a room together, after all. Over and over her heart cried, “I didn't even get to hold him. I didn't even hold him!”

With all her being she wished she had insisted that the nurse allow her to snuggle her son, but now it was too late.

“I still want to hold him,” she told Edward. He may have thought her to be a little hysterical, but he went to find the doctor anyway.

Soon a nurse arrived with the tiny body bundled only in a simple hospital blanket. Janette unfolded it and there he was: all ten fingers, all ten toes, a perfect little baby, chubby and well formed. She held his little hands, those replicas of his daddy's.

After a few minutes spent with Brian, Janette was ready to give him up. The nurse came back and took him away, and Janette mourned quietly the loss of her son.

Edward told her later that Brian had not been easy for him to look at, his little body already discolored. Janette had seen none of it. To her he was a perfect chubby, pink newborn. God must have blessed her with rose-colored glasses, and years later when she read the account given by Corrie ten Boom concerning her sister Betsy's death, she understood perfectly. Edward had the sorrowful task of making more phone calls—difficult calls only ten short hours after he had joyously dialed the same numbers.

Flowers began to arrive in her hospital room. Janette's reaction surprised even herself. She had always loved flowers, but now as the lovely bouquets appeared, she did not even want to look at them. The flowers could not bring her baby back, and each new delivery was another reminder of what she had just lost.

Her arms literally ached for the baby she did not have—so much so that she was tempted to go to Shirley's room and beg to hold little Jody, but she thought better of that. What if something happened to Jody? Then she would feel it was her fault.

At the same time she ached for a baby to hold, the tiny cries from the nursery aggravated her. She was not sure she would ever be able to look at another baby without bursting into tears.

And then she had a visitor. Elna, a kind lady from work, arrived at her door with a big smile and a gift for the baby.

“You haven't heard?” she finally managed in disbelief. Poor Elna. She was shocked and embarrassed. Janette could read her own pain reflected in the woman's eyes.

Elna insisted that she keep the gift—for the next baby—and Janette did not argue with her. She tucked the pair of darling baby shoes aside and prayed that one day she would be able to use them.

Even though she wished to be alone with her grief, Janette was still a patient in recovery, and there was the usual stream of nurses in and out of her room. Most went about their duties quickly and hurried from the room, leaving only the silence punctuated with noises echoing in the hall. One young black nurse hurried through the usual ministrations, but as she was leaving the room, she turned and said with such feeling, “I am so sorry.” And Janette knew that she was. She loved the woman for her kindness, and though she saw her only once, the sympathetic face has remained in her memory.

In the dark days that followed, while Janette lay in her hospital bed and Edward struggled alone with funeral arrangements, Janette felt the prayers of God's people as never before. She longed for family members and, as one always does in times of sorrow, seemed to need her mother in particular.

Yet, over and over, a song kept running through her mind, and she sang it mentally again and again. It brought comfort.

God's way is the best way
God's way is the right way
I'll trust in Him always
He knoweth the best.

She clung to the sentiments of the song.

As much as she ached for her baby and yet suffered with the cries from the nursery, she knew she had to face her emotions. When she was given permission to be up, she steeled her resolve and forced her feet to carry her to the nursery window where she could look at the other newborns. God was with her. And she felt love, not bitterness.

The longer she stood, the more she was able to enjoy the babies. This is where Edward found her, and she wished to share her triumph with him, raising her hand to point out a certain baby, sure that she had found little Jody among the infants. He brushed past her without a glance at the bassinets, his eyes tear-filled. Taking her arm, he led her back to the room. Edward had just come from the funeral home and had seen his infant son ready for burial.

“He's just beautiful,” he wept.

Reverend Bacon was out of town holding evangelistic meetings, so a retired minister from the church, Rev. D. Paul Huffman, readily agreed to officiate at the service. They had opted for a private ceremony at the funeral home, and only a few close friends and sister June from Chicago were in attendance.

June had come almost immediately on receiving word, leaving behind her two young daughters. Karen, about six at the time, had sent a handmade card for her Aunt Janette with all the love and compassion that a child can pour into a little piece of paper.

Little Brian Edward Oke was buried in the lovely soft yellow gown, bundled in the snugly blanket his daddy had purchased before they were even sure he was on the way.

Janette was released from the hospital for the funeral service but not allowed to go to the cemetery. Only his daddy and Reverend Huffman went with the hearse.

Instead, Janette went home with Maynard and Ruth Yoder. The Yoders had become Edward and Janette's Indiana “mom and dad,” and they lovingly took care of the grieving couple. After being released from the hospital, Janette spent the first few days with them while Edward was in class and then went home when Edward picked her up at day's end.

Dr. Middleton did everything she could think of to make the time easier for Edward and Janette. She insisted that she would accept nothing for her services and stopped by their home to be certain Janette was doing well. Being a parishioner and also a friend, the loss of Brian was difficult for her as well. Brian was the first baby she had lost since setting up her practice.

Duties at church were resumed. In fact, they increased. It seemed that well-meaning friends had decided what Janette needed was “busyness.” They may have been right, but she was left emotionally drained.

Janette was given the assignment of children's Christmas program director. It was a big job and took a good deal of time in rehearsals. She had not yet looked for another job, so she had extra daytime hours at home.

In spite of the distractions, she continued to grieve silently. On some days while Edward was at class, she would go look at the empty little crib and the drawers full of tiny baby things and weep. She whispered silently to God on one such moment, “I know that I said that you could take him—but I didn't promise not to cry.” The crying times seemed to be good therapy and were times of slow healing.

There were friends who felt that it would be good for Janette to have the care of a baby. She was often asked to sit with this one or care for that one. Though she appreciated their concern, it was not
a
baby she wanted—but
her
baby. She did baby-sit the ones who were brought to her and gave them loving care, but those times did not bring the comfort to her heart that her friends had hoped.

Edward and Janette still planned to go home for Christmas. She could hardly wait. Of course, it would not be the same, but at least it would be a chance to see their families and share their grief.

To those at home, their baby boy would not seem real, Janette reasoned. They had not seen him, not touched him, and not attended his funeral service. All he had been was a little unknown “someone.” Janette longed to tell them all about him so they would feel they had known him, too.

But the time home was a disappointment to her. Because of the rush and bustle of Christmas activities, no one had the time to sit down and hear the few things she could tell about the baby boy she and Edward had seen and known so briefly. Perhaps she had brought unrealistic expectations. What was there to tell? Maybe there was no way for her to really unburden the thoughts and feelings in her heart.