The Atonement Child (42 page)

It could be taken care of so easily. So why this pain inside her? Why this ache in her breast?

She remembered the day she had given birth to Dynah. Oh, the joy she had felt. It was indescribable. Tears pricked and she swallowed convulsively. What would Dynah think if she started to blubber all over her?

Oh, God, help me get through this. Give me strength so I can give her strength.

But her insides were shaking like Jell-O. How strange that her voice should sound so calm in her own ears when everything inside her was crying out loud.

“Pant, honey. That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing great.” She panted with her daughter as another contraction built, stronger and quicker than the last. “Ride it out.”

Hour after hour passed as Dynah made a slow climb and then a sharper one through transition.

“It won’t be long now,” Jim said, removing another pair of gloves and depositing them in the wastebasket.

Dynah moaned. “Have you called Daddy yet?”

“I’ll do it as soon as—”

“Call him now.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Now, Mom.”

Hannah saw Dynah wouldn’t relax until the chore was done. She hurried down the hallway and asked to use the telephone at the nurses’ station. Holding the receiver, she punched in his number and gave his secretary the message. She asked if everything was all right, and Hannah gave a hasty yes.

“Did you get him?” Dynah said when she came back in the room.

“He knows.”

Dynah looked at her, and Hannah forced a smile. She saw the sorrow creep into Dynah’s eyes and was ashamed to be the cause of it. How much pain would her stubbornness cost? But there was no time now for repentance. The steel railings were being pulled up and locked as the bed was being moved from the labor room to the delivery room.

“He’ll come, Dynah.” In all fairness, she knew Doug would have been here hours ago had she told him his daughter was in labor. He might not care a whit about the baby, but he loved Dynah more than his own life.

Dynah puffed soft, quick breaths as the contraction built and crested. She was making noise now, no quietly heroic ladylike silences. Tears came, along with a rising bubble of panic as the bed was wheeled into a brightly lit room. She couldn’t see her mother and asked for her.

“She’s putting on a sterile gown,” Jim said. “Try to relax.”

“I don’t think I can do this. . . .” As if she had any choice.

“You’re doing fine.”

Hannah heard the fear in her daughter’s voice and hurriedly pulled on the gown. “I’m right here, honey.”

“Eight centimeters,” Jim said. “It’ll be soon now, Dynah.”

Not soon enough, Dynah wanted to say as another contraction came. She moved her hands very lightly over her taut abdomen, trying to relax, trying to breathe, trying to be brave. Her heart was thumping wildly.

“Don’t push, Dynah,” Jim said.

Easy for him to say! Her body was doing it for her.

Everyone was in masks and paper gowns, even her mother. People were talking, whether to her or to one another, she didn’t know or care. Soft music was playing. She wanted to ask for something loud and fast but hadn’t the breath as another contraction came rolling over the last.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God . . .

I AM THE LORD, YOUR GOD, WHO TAKES HOLD OF YOUR RIGHT HAND. DO NOT BE AFRAID. I WILL HELP YOU. I HAVE DONE THIS SO THAT PEOPLE MAY SEE AND KNOW, MAY CONSIDER AND UNDERSTAND THAT THE HAND OF THE LORD HAS DONE THIS, THAT THE HOLY ONE OF ISRAEL HAS CREATED THIS CHILD.

“That’s it, honey. Pant. Remember what you know.”

I AM HE, BELOVED. I AM HE WHO WILL SUSTAIN YOU. I HAVE MADE YOU, AND I WILL CARRY YOU.

“It’s almost time, Dynah.”

Two nurses covered her with sterile drapes and painted her with antiseptic.

“Turn the lights down a little,” Jim said.

YOUR MAKER IS YOUR HUSBAND, THE LORD ALMIGHTY IS HIS NAME, THE HOLY ONE IS YOUR REDEEMER, THE GOD OF ALL THE EARTH.

“Everything’s going fine, honey.”

Dynah looked up and saw the fear in her mother’s eyes.

I WILL TURN THE DARKNESS INTO LIGHT BEFORE THEM AND MAKE THE ROUGH PLACES SMOOTH. THESE ARE THE THINGS I WILL DO, BELOVED. I WILL NOT FORSAKE YOU. I AM HE WHO BLOTS OUT TRANSGRESSIONS AND REMEMBERS SIN NO MORE.

Dynah was perspiring and trembling. Groaning, she bore down, her hands tightening.

“Jim!”

“It’s okay. We’re ready,” he said, the table tilting slightly.

Dynah looked at Jim and saw by his eyes he was smiling as he told her it was all right to push now. Not that she needed to be told. She had been waiting for this moment for months. “Oh, Lord . . .” She clenched the handholds tighter.

“That’s it, honey,” Hannah said. “It’ll be over soon. . . .”

Dynah heard herself groaning and couldn’t stop.

“The baby’s crowning,” Jim said. “Don’t clench your teeth, Dynah. Do your breathing. That’s it. Gentle now. Let your body do the work. Don’t press it. Easy, easy.”

“Keep breathing,” her mother said.

One of the nurses touched her leg. “You’re doing great.”

Why wouldn’t these people shut up? She didn’t need them telling her to push or not to push, to breathe and to pant. She couldn’t have stopped the process if her life had depended on it. A force beyond herself was in control now. God was bringing her baby into the world with a baptism of water and blood. Her body shook with the awesome act. She felt the ring of fire and gasped in pain.

“Your water just broke, Dynah. Pant now,” Jim said firmly.

“That’s it, honey.”

“Gently now. Keep breathing. The head’s coming.”

As the head was born, Jim cleared the baby’s mouth. Dynah heard the mewling cry and instinctively reached down to touch her baby. Tears burned as she caught a glimpse of her child.
Oh, God
 . . .

Jim placed his hand briefly over hers. “I’m going to rotate the baby slightly. The shoulder’s coming now. Gentle pushes. That’s it. Easy . . .”

She let out her breath as she felt her child slip out in a wet rush.

WHEN YOU PASS THROUGH THE WATERS, I WILL BE WITH YOU. . . .

Jim gave a joyful laugh as he held the squalling child in his hands. Perfect in every detail. Exhilaration filled him. He hadn’t felt this good in years. Choking up, he didn’t relinquish the infant when the nurse reached out for her. He knew it was against procedure, but he held the baby girl closer to him and savored this moment.

Oh, God, forgive me. How many have I helped sacrifice on altars of fear and selfishness? Sons and daughters of an entire generation.

And even as his heart cried out in anguish, a feeling of forgiveness and redemption swept through him as the darkness fled before the Word of God.

I HAVE MADE YOU A NEW CREATION IN CHRIST JESUS. YOU ARE BORN AGAIN THROUGH THE POWER AND LOVE OF MY BLOOD. I HAVE SET YOUR FEET UPON THE ROCK OF MY SALVATION SO THAT YOU WILL STAND. YOU WILL STAND. YOU WILL STAND.

“Doctor?” the nurse said. “Is everything all right?”

“More than all right,” he said hoarsely. “You have a daughter, Dynah,” Jim said gruffly and placed the infant on Dynah’s abdomen.

“Ohhh . . . ,” Dynah said, her throat closing with tenderness as she brushed her baby’s palm and tiny fingers clamped around her little finger.

“I’ll take her,” a nurse said, aware of the circumstances.

“Not yet,” Jim said and looked up at Hannah. “Do you want to do the honors?” He nodded for another nurse to give her the scissors as he set the clamps.

Hannah took them without a word and cut the cord. Her hand was shaking as she handed the scissors back to the nurse and returned her full attention to her daughter holding the wailing infant close against her breast.

Dynah started to cry. Her feelings were in such a muddle, and she didn’t know why. She held her baby closer, distressed at the pitiful wail and trembling limbs. Her daughter turned her head and nuzzled, finding what she sought, and a piercing sense of surprise and connection gripped Dynah.

Hannah saw and understood. Her own child was becoming a woman before her eyes. It had happened in the barest few seconds. A shifting, a subtle change in her demeanor. Tenderness smoothed away the shadows of pain and hours of labor. Dynah smiled at her daughter and spoke softly. “Hello, little one. Welcome to the world.”

Hannah looked at the baby then, carefully, fully.

Oh, Lord, what did I expect? That because of the circumstances of her conception, she might be some kind of monster? She’s beautiful. So perfect.

Over the past three weeks, she and Dynah had spoken a number of times with the lady at the adoption service. There were families waiting for this baby, families who promised her a secure future. She shouldn’t have let Dynah touch her. She shouldn’t have looked at the baby herself.

This is my granddaughter,
Hannah thought,
my own flesh and blood
.

Another contraction brought forth the placenta. Jim examined it carefully to be sure it was fully intact while a nurse tended Dynah. Another took the baby from her.

“Mom?” Dynah said, her voice husky.

Hannah glanced at the nurse and saw her expression. It was clearly a warning: Don’t make things more difficult.

With trembling fingers, Hannah combed the damp tendrils of hair back from Dynah’s forehead. “They’re bathing her and putting her under a warm lamp.”

Dynah could hear her daughter screaming.
Oh, Lord, must I give her up so soon?
She felt a bubble of panic and fought it down.

“She’s fine, honey. They’ll take good care of her,” Hannah said in a choked voice, unable to look and see that they were.

Washed and draped with a lightweight warm blanket, Dynah was wheeled into the corridor. “You did beautifully, honey,” Hannah said, walking alongside her to the recovery room. She was unable to say more than that. Glancing back, she saw the baby bundled in a clear plastic basin heading toward the nursery. Her heart did a sick flop. Her granddaughter.

“You rest here. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes,” the nurse said, leaving them in a quiet, antiseptic recovery room.

As the door closed behind the nurse, Dynah started to cry—deep, wrenching sobs of relief mingled with grief. “Oh, Mom. Did you see her? Did you see how perfect she was?”

“Yes, honey. I did.” And her heart was breaking.

Chapter 11

Leaning down, Hannah kissed her drowsy daughter. “I’m going home to get some sleep, honey. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Dynah was already asleep, exhausted from the hours of labor. Hannah stood a moment longer at the bedside, gazing at the blonde tendrils of hair curling against her daughter’s temples. She looked so young and untouched by the tragedies of life.

How is it possible You gave me such a daughter, Lord? I am so undeserving. She’s brave and true, and she stood firm. God, forgive me. I tried to convince her to follow in my footsteps. I remember all those years of emptiness and separateness from You, and yet, You redeemed me. You brought me up out of the pit. And You gave me this atonement child. I was like Rachel of old, mourning for my child, refusing to be consoled because my baby was no more. And then I returned to You, and You said to me, “Cease your cries of mourning. Wipe the tears from your eyes. The sorrow you have shown shall have its reward. There is a hope for your future.” And now You’ve shown me, Father. Thanks be to You, Jesus, Dynah followed You and not me.

She took Dynah’s limp hand and studied the slender fingers and short clipped nails, remembering how her granddaughter had clasped one and clung before being taken away. Her throat closed tight.

Oh, Lord, Lord, whatever You say, I’ll do it. Whatever. Only tell me soon. Please.

Though it was past eleven, the lights in the corridor outside Dynah’s room were fully on. A nurse passed by and smiled. Two others were at the nurses’ station discussing a chart. Hannah hesitated, standing in the cross of two intersecting corridors.

One last look, Lord. Just one last look . . .

She hadn’t expected to find Doug standing at the nursery window, but there he was, staring in, one hand against the glass. Sensing someone staring at him, he turned his head and saw her. Lowering his hand, he stepped back slightly.

As Hannah came closer, she saw a nurse had brought the baby over so he could get a good look at her. She looked up at him and then back at her granddaughter being carried back to the clear plastic bed. She was afraid to look at Doug again, afraid what she would see in his eyes, afraid he would see the anguish in her own.

“Dynah?” he said gruffly.

“Sleeping.”

“How is she?”

“Fine.” She swallowed convulsively and let out her breath softly, regaining control of her emotions. “When did you get here?”

“A little past five.”

She shut her eyes, ashamed. He had arrived before the baby was born and had waited hours for word from her. She had cut him out deliberately, punishing him for past hurts. She bit her lip, waiting for his accusation and retaliation. He was silent, pensive. She remembered his telling her she viewed life as a half-empty cup rather than one half-full, and she knew he was right. She had built her life on that habit and brought pain on herself and others for her unrelenting self-centeredness.

God, forgive me.

“How’d she do?” he said quietly, not looking at her, his eyes still fixed on the baby.

“Beautifully.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She waited for him to ask why she hadn’t called him before leaving the house for the hospital. He didn’t. He didn’t ask her anything. He didn’t accuse. He didn’t berate. She had cut him out of the second most important event in their lives, the birth of their granddaughter, and he said nothing of the hurt he must feel. “Joe kept me company,” he said. “He’ll come back and see her tomorrow.”

Joe. Ever faithful Joe. “That’s nice.”

They stood in silence, both hurting, staring in through the glass at the sleeping baby in bin #7 with
Carey
printed in clear black letters.

“I remember the day our daughter was born like it was yesterday,” Doug said finally. “She looks just like Dynah.”

Hannah heard the tears in his voice and understood perfectly. Hadn’t she been afraid? Hadn’t she expected the worst? Odd that it had never occurred even to her that despite all circumstances, God had brought this child into being. God had created her. How could she be anything less than wonderful?

Sing, O heavens, for the Lord has done this wondrous thing.

And she knew as well what God wanted of her. It was no less than what she wanted for herself. Restoration.

She surrendered. Simply. Completely. And as she did, all the tension went from her with a soft sigh. She could breathe again and inhale the fresh air of God’s sweet grace. All the years she had struggled and fought to attain peace for herself, and it came as a free gift with her obedience.

Filled to overflowing with love, Hannah slipped her hand into Doug’s and wove her fingers with his. “Let’s go home.”

His fingers tightened around hers, telling her more than words ever could.

Dynah awakened feeling empty and alone. The other bed was empty, the patient having been discharged shortly after Dynah arrived. “You’re lucky to have a room to yourself,” the nurse had said as she put Dynah’s dinner on the rolling tray. “You’ll be able to sleep.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw it was two thirty in the morning. A crack of light shone beneath her doorway. Someone was talking in the corridor.

She needed to use the bathroom. Rather than ring for a nurse, she pushed the covers back and eased her legs over the side. She sat for a moment waiting for the light-headedness to pass. The last thing she wanted to do was faint on the floor and bring everyone running.

Rather than return to bed, she pulled on the robe her mother had left out for her and sat in the chair near the windows. She let out her breath slowly, surrendering the ache in her heart. “Abba Father, surely this suffering has been for my benefit. You’ve kept me in Your love, and I am not destroyed.” Her eyes pricked with tears. “Your will be done.”

I WILL LEAD THE BLIND BY WAYS THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN, ALONG UNFAMILIAR PATHS I WILL GUIDE THEM.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and spotted her white hospital gown.

AND A LITTLE CHILD WILL LEAD THEM ALL. . . .

“Lord,” she whispered, “she is born. She is wonderful. All I have done, You have done for me. What now?”

And God told her.

Dynah did not hesitate.

Standing shakily, she returned to bed and pressed the call button. The door opened a moment later and a nurse entered.

“Would you please bring me my baby?”

The nurse hesitated. “Under the circumstances, it might be best if you didn’t hold the baby.”

“The circumstances have changed. I’m keeping her.”

The nurse was aware of the difficulties surrounding this child as well as the circumstances of its conception. “It might be better if you spoke to someone about this.”

Dynah smiled, radiant. “I already have.”

Evie received two calls on the morning of September 25. The first was from Hannah informing her that Dynah had given birth to a baby girl. Mother and child were both in perfect health. The second was from Dynah. The conversation was brief.

“Granny, I’m going to keep my baby.”

“Praise God,” Evie said, feeling the weight of decades lift as a new road was forged ahead. “When can I expect the two of you?”

Dynah watched her daughter suckle and marveled at how perfect she was. Her head and body, her arms and legs, her tiny hands and feet were all combined to make a work of art. The small mouth stopped tugging as she fell asleep, replete and content. Dynah smiled, pressing her little finger lightly against her breast to break the suction.

Covering herself, Dynah lifted her daughter against her shoulder and rubbed her back gently. The baby was a melting softness against her heart. She loved the smell of her child, the feel of her silky smooth, flawless skin, the soft sounds she made. Laying the baby down between her thighs, Dynah opened the blanket and studied her perfect little body again. She was in awe of her.

Oh, Lord, You formed my baby’s inward parts; You wove her in my womb. I give thanks to You, for she is fearfully and wonderfully made. Oh, Father, how wonderful are Your words; my soul knows it well. Her frame was never hidden from You. You saw her unformed substance and wrote her name in Your Book of Life. You even knew the days ordained for her when as yet there was not one. She is beautiful as You are beautiful, perfect in every way.

I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT AND MY BLESSINGS ON YOUR CHILDREN. THEY WILL THRIVE LIKE WATERED GRASS, LIKE WILLOWS ON A RIVERBANK. SOME WILL PROUDLY CLAIM, “I BELONG TO THE LORD.”

Leaning down, Dynah kissed the soles of her daughter’s feet and felt the tiny toes curl against her lips.

“Hi, kid.”

Dynah’s heart leaped at the sound of Joe’s voice. Lifting her head, she saw him leaning casually against the doorjamb, watching her. Her heart turned over as he smiled. She smiled back. “I made it to the hospital on time.”

“I figured that when I found the note taped to the front door,” he said, entering the room and pushing the curtain back farther.

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

“About what? Not waiting around? I’d have been ready to strangle you if you had.”

“Mom said you were here the whole time.”

“In the waiting room with a bunch of nervous dads.”

“Including mine.”

“Have you seen him?”

“This morning. He stopped by the nursery last night to see her,” she said, looking down at her daughter. She looked up at Joe again and smiled. “He and Mom went home together.” She laughed. “Mom forgot she drove her car.”

Joe’s eyes twinkled. “I take it things are looking up.”

“You could say that. They were here together this morning.” She cocked her head in a teasing manner. “And you were right, Joe.”

“About what?”

She grinned. “She’s a girl.”

He came around the bed, smiling down at the baby. “And a beauty, just like her mother. May I?”

“Of course,” she said, watching him.

Joe lifted the baby carefully, cradling her tenderly in his arms. He walked around the room, gazing down at her in wonder. “Hello, princess,” he murmured softly, and the baby awakened, gazing up at him. Stopping at the foot of the bed, Joe looked at Dynah. “You did good.”

Dynah blushed and lowered her head. She felt how he looked her over. She wished she had taken the time to brush and French-braid her hair and put on a little makeup. She must look a fright in her hospital gown with her hair in disarray.