No Distance Too Far (27 page)
T
he next morning Astrid hugged Mor, then sat on the edge of the bed in the lying-in room while her mother got settled with a pillow behind her back. “Mor, what do you think is happening with Elizabeth’s baby?”
Ingeborg yawned and shook her head. “It is not good.”
“I know that. Today the heartbeat is weaker. But why, when we’re doing everything we know how to do medically?”
“Ja.” She reached out to take Astrid’s hand in hers. “Babies die for all sorts of reasons. Something might be wrong with it, and so the baby dies in utero. While this is so sad, still it would be sadder if the baby lived with terrible things wrong with it. Sometimes the mother’s body just can’t carry the baby. Maybe someday we’ll know answers to these things, but right now we can count on God knowing. The baby comes from Him and returns to Him.”
“And breaks Elizabeth’s heart in the process. And maybe her body too.”
“I know. She’s lost several, but they’ve not gone this far along.”
“But why? Elizabeth is healthy. Thorliff is too. And she’s taken good care of herself. Other than getting overtired, I’m sure. But still . . .”
“I wish I had the answers you want, but I don’t.”
“She’s doing everything Dr. Morganstein said to do. We’ve all been praying—”
“So we have to leave this in God’s hands.”
But what if she and the baby slip through His fingers? Astrid crossed the room to stand at the open window, looking out but seeing nothing. Rev. Thompkins’ voice came softly through her mind.
“The
answers to all your questions are in the Scriptures. You have to search for
them sometimes, but they are there.” But Father in heaven, where do I
look? I’ve not seen any verse that says do this or do that to make a baby
live.
She rubbed her forehead, propped her hands on the windowsill, and inhaled the early morning fragrance. Even the meadowlarks were not up yet. She heard a chirping in the cottonwood tree that sheltered the house from the summer sun. The house finches were starting to wake. The sky had lightened, but the sun still waited to burst over the horizon and fling itself into the azure sky.
What is the sense of being a doctor or a missionary if I can’t help
people live?
You can help them heal; you can teach them things to help them live
better; you can ease pain.
The thoughts seeped through her mind like fingers of fog that hovered over the river. And like fog, she could not trap them or even slow them down.
“We must trust that whatever God’s will is, be it that this baby live or die, He is God, and He is right.” Ingeborg’s voice slipped softly through the silence.
“But we don’t have to like it.” This was not a question.
“No, we don’t. But we cannot play God either.”
Astrid swallowed the tears that threatened every time she thought of the baby fighting for its life. Of Elizabeth wanting this baby so desperately. Of Thorliff, who tried to keep a stiff upper lip but whose haunted eyes said otherwise.
“I’m going back to check on her.” Astrid left the lying-in room and climbed the stairs to the bedroom where the unseen fight continued. Moving as silently as possible, she entered the dim room where Elizabeth lay sleeping. Thorliff was already out of bed and down in the kitchen with his first cup of coffee.
Trying not to disturb the sleeping woman, Astrid laid her stethoscope against the lower quadrant of the mounded belly and listened. She moved the instrument before picking up the faint beat of the baby’s heart. Listening carefully, she fought to decide if the beat was fainter than a few hours earlier or just the same. She forced back a sigh, fearing it would wake Elizabeth, a frown seeming permanent between her eyebrows. Her seal brown hair, streaked with red, lay in a coiled rope over one shoulder, the deep purple smears under her eyes setting off the prominent bones in her face.
How much weight had she lost? Astrid pondered, studying on what she might possibly do to help.
Get her outside in the sun.
Would carrying her down the stairs precipitate a crisis? They could put a chair in front of the window, so when it was wide open the sun could warm her for a while.
Making her way downstairs to the kitchen, she greeted Thelma and Thorliff and took eggs and cream from the icebox. What else could she add to make the drink richer with nourishing food? Vanilla and sugar—no, honey would be better. Strawberry jam might make it taste even better. Anything to tempt Elizabeth’s taste buds. As she beat the concoction, she asked Thelma if they had any chicken broth.
“No, but I can get a chicken cooking pretty quick. There is beef broth in the icebox.”
“I’ll push this first.” She dumped in the second egg. “Then the beef broth. And please make her some mint tea. That will help soothe her stomach.”
“Any change?” Thorliff asked when she sat down at the table, full coffee cup in hand.
Astrid shook her head. “I don’t think so, but every day brings her closer to term.”
Thorliff stared out the window, slowly shaking his head. “I can’t lose her, Astrid. I just can’t.” His voice broke on the words.
Staring at her brother’s ravaged face, Astrid could feel the pain radiating from the man beside her. Her big brother, who could do anything and managed the newspaper, the building company, things at church, and the many people who came to him for help or advice, now looked as if even a needle prick might shatter him.
She laid a hand on his arm, thinking to say, “We’re doing the best we can,” but instead, she just held her hand steady and sent him all the strength she could muster, counting on more coming from the Father, who always hears His children, even when they don’t think they are praying.
That’s one of the things I learned at missionary
school,
she realized, the Bible verse that had stymied her for so long—
the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot
be uttered
—now a comfort. Praying always meant that God heard all thoughts as clearly as words, and the hopes behind the words, unutterable even, flew directly to His great heart.
God loves you and
Elizabeth and this baby.
She hoped the love came through her hand, now stroking her brother’s arm. When he turned to gaze at her, his blue eyes a turbulent sea, she stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek on the top of his head.
The telephone rang three shorts, so Astrid crossed the room and lifted the earpiece. “Good morning.”
“Call for you, Astrid, from Dr. Morganstein in Chicago.”
“Thank you, Gerald.” After the slight pause and click she heard Dr. Morganstein.
“Is that you, Astrid?”
“Yes. Good morning.”
“How’s our girl?”
“About the same.”
“If the baby dies, you will have to do a cesarean section.” Dr. Morganstein sounded abrupt.
“Unless we can precipitate a natural delivery.” Astrid quaked at the thought of a cesarean, especially since she hadn’t performed any surgeries these past months.
“I agree, but you cannot let the fetus begin to decompose. Elizabeth’s not strong enough to endure that.”
“I’m not sure she’s strong enough for any of the above.” She kept her voice down, hoping that Thorliff, who was now talking with Thelma, would not hear.
“I agree, so we do the least invasive. I’ve been researching in all my journals to see if there is something that might help. I’ve spoken with a friend at Johns Hopkins too.” She paused. “It is a criminal shame there is not more research being done on women who have problems bearing children. It is such a natural part of life, and yet the medical world is lax in pursuing information.”
“I agree.” Astrid watched Thorliff stand. He was moving as if in slow motion.
“Call me if there is any change.”
“I will.” Astrid hung up and blew out a breath. In an hour she needed to open the surgery. Ingeborg would take over monitoring Elizabeth.
“You’re ready to eat now, and don’t tell me you don’t have time.” Thelma took her job of caring for those who took care of the sick very seriously. Her tone brooked no argument.
Astrid took a place at the table. The plate set before her looked heaped enough to feed three people. She glanced up, started to say something about that, changed her mind, and murmured, “Thank you.”
They might rule the sickrooms, but Thelma held sway over her kitchen domain.
Astrid spread jam on her toast. “Thelma, please tell Mor I made a drink of cream, two eggs, honey, and strawberry jam and to make Elizabeth drink it. The beef soup can come later.”
After wolfing down her breakfast, Astrid wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I need to wash and get ready for the patients. Thank you for the delicious breakfast, Thelma. You might call Freda and ask her to butcher a couple of chickens.”
“I will.”
Half an hour later, Astrid turned the sign on the door from
Closed
to
Open
and spotted Rebecca pulling Benny in the red wagon Toby had built for him.
Astrid ran out and caught Rebecca in a huge hug.
“We heard you got home yesterday,” Rebecca said when they finally pulled apart.
“That’s—”
“Hey, Doc Bjorklund, I came to see you.”
Astrid felt her heart lift again at the sight of Benny’s beaming face. He looked like an entirely different boy from the waif she’d known in the hospital. His face had rounded and his arms and shoulders muscled out, but the lock of blond hair that curled over his forehead had stayed the same. She bent down to give him a hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Ma said you comed home. I’m glad.” He squeezed her neck and kissed her cheek.
Astrid kissed him back and took both his hands in hers. “Benny, you look wonderful. How do you like Blessing?” She watched while he swung his legs with the prostheses over the edge of the wagon and propped his crutches under his arms. Placing his feet squarely, he push-pulled himself to his feet, rocking a bit until he got his balance. She forced herself to let him do it all himself, sharing a look with Rebecca that said the same thing. “You are doing very well, young man. I am so proud of you, I could shout and cheer.”
He gave her a cheeky grin. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Rebecca laughed, music like birdsong dancing on the breeze. “He is the most independent boy I know.” Her look added, “And he’s mine.”
“So you just came to see me?”
Benny grinned at her. “Ma said you should look at the stumps. Hurts some.”
“I will gladly do that. Come on in.”
“Got to be quick. I am late for school.”
“He is never late, and he never misses.” Rebecca pulled the wagon out of the way as Benny managed the stairs, waving Astrid back when she reached to help him.
In the examining room Benny unstrapped his prostheses, laid them to the side, and unwrapped the padding they bandaged in place every morning. He held out his right leg. “See.”
Astrid examined the stump and found it was reddened on one side and warm to the touch. Infection or just irritation? “How long has this been going on?”
He wrinkled his forehead and wriggled his mouth around. He shrugged. “Couple days.”
Astrid checked with Rebecca, who nodded. “He’s faithful about telling me if there is a problem.”
“Let’s use some salve on that. It’s called black cohosh. If there is infection, that will draw it out. I want you to soak the stumps every night. Now let’s look at the padding.” She examined the now compacted wool fleece. “I think we need to reline these and add more wool to the wrappings. Time and use flatten the wool. Have you washed and fluffed it up?”
“Once or twice when it looked dirty.”
“Fleece can be washed over and over. Just make sure the hide doesn’t get hard and stiff.” Astrid smeared some salve on both stumps and handed the wrappings back to Benny. “Let me see you wrap them.”
Step by step Benny did as she had shown him in the hospital those months earlier, and then grinned up at her when finished. “I do good, huh?”
“You do very well. I know you hate to sit still, but soaking will be important. We can’t let infection set in.”
“I will do it.” His voice carried conviction like a man three or four times his age.
Astrid saw them to the door and returned to the examining room to find that Thelma had it all in order again for the next patient.
THAT EVENING AFTER supper, Astrid walked over to the Solberg house and asked the pastor if he had a few minutes. After exchanging pleasantries and getting caught up on the news, the pastor asked how Elizabeth was doing.
“About the same. Thorliff is sitting with her now.”
“I stopped by this afternoon, but you were with a patient.”
“I know. How did we get along without a doctor around here all those years?”
“Your mother with her simples did most of the doctoring, and people dealt with more things on their own or ignored what they couldn’t cure. Now, what is bothering you?”
“One of my teachers at the school said we can find answers to all our questions in the Scriptures.”
Solberg nodded. “I agree.”
“Then what about helping newborns? I have found nothing that refers to babies, other than the promise or threat that there would always be problems for women having babies.”
