Chosen Ones
By Eileen Hinkle Rife
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Another contraction rose like a wave and gripped her abdomen. It was time. Locked in the moment, her screams sliced the air, the sheer effort of delivering her second child the only thought on her mind. Maggie tightened her hold on the sides of the bed; her knuckles turned white. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead like raindrops on a leaf.
“The head’s crowning; push, work with the contraction,” Gavin urged from the end of the bed. She lifted her head briefly to snatch a look at her husband. Dark circles like half moons rested beneath his puffy eyes. He returned her gaze. His intense brown eyes softened. “You’re doing fine, Maggie.” He offered a smile. The pain subsided. “Try to relax between contractions.”
No sooner had the words left his month than another intense pain rolled over her, squeezing her abdomen as though someone were wringing every drop of water out of a dishrag. The contraction urged the life within her into the light of day. She gripped her knees, her face red and contorted. With two mighty exertions, she delivered the head. Gavin suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth. Another contraction. Then the shoulders, and the baby easily slipped out, wet, red, and squalling. A timid cry, then stronger. Maggie exhaled a deep cleansing breath and relaxed back on the bed.
“It’s a boy!” Gavin announced, beaming from ear-to-ear. He suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth again. Another contraction and the placenta was delivered. She peered around to see him cut and tie off the umbilical cord. A swift swipe to clean the baby and he laid him on her chest. Instinctively, his rosebud mouth made sucking movements. Maggie smiled at her little son, lost in a mother’s joy. She could feel Gavin gently clean her, then apply an ice pack to alleviate swelling and bruising. Off to the side, a blur of bodies swept across the room. The Oasis nurses tended to her needs and prepared to bathe and examine her son. That knowledge soothed her.
Gavin walked to the side of the bed, knelt beside his wife, and kissed her. He stroked a damp copper curl from her forehead, then turned his attention on his new son. “A finer boy I’ve never seen.” A satisfied sigh escaped his throat. “Let’s get him a little more presentable.” He lifted the newborn and cradled him against his chest. He nuzzled, then belted out a lusty cry. “This little fellow’s got a good set of lungs.” Gavin grinned at his son and stroked his cheek causing the baby to once again move his lips. “And it doesn’t look like he’s going to have any trouble learning to breastfeed.” He winked at Maggie.
She was exhausted as if she’d just spent the day climbing Annapoorna, but it was a richly satisfying tiredness. She watched as Gavin passed her son to a nurse. The Indian woman gently bathed the boy as his kitten cries filled the room. She lathered his full head of hair, then rinsed. After she rubbed him dry, she swaddled him in a blanket and carried him back to his waiting parents.
Gavin laughed when he received the bundled baby. “Well, look at that.”
“What?” Maggie craned to see.
Gavin sat on the edge of the bed and inched the blanket off his son’s head.
Maggie smiled and shook her head.
“I wonder where he got all this red hair?” Gavin teased.
“And curls?” Maggie shot right back, glancing at Gavin’s head.
“Hmm . . . maybe we should name him Esau.”
Maggie glared at her husband. “Not a chance.”
“Okay, how ‘bout Mephibosheth?”
“Even less of a chance.” Maggie took her son and cooed into his chubby, red face. “Look how red he gets when he cries.” She ran her finger over the baby’s cheek. “My mother said I used to turn beet red whenever I screamed, especially at bath time.”
“Ah, a temper to match that hair.” Gavin squeezed Maggie’s hand.
“Watch it, hubby.”
“Let’s just call it fiery determination.” He gazed into his wife’s face. “That’s what I found most attractive about you the first time we met . . . what, about seven years ago?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Maggie smoothed her son’s blanket. He had drifted off to sleep and looked quite angelic with lashes the color of sunshine lightly grazing his plump cheeks. She sighed. “How blessed we are, Gavin, that God brought us together to serve Him here in Chennai. And then to give us our precious daughter, Katy, and now a son.”
Gavin ran his hand over her hair, then leaned in and smothered her lips with a kiss. “So, what shall we name him? I don’t want to go around saying ‘Hey you!’”
“How ‘bout we sleep on it?” She yawned as an overwhelming wave of fatigue swept over her.
Gavin cupped her chin in his hand. “Right. You get some rest, and I’ll take care of Junior here.” He grinned and reached for his sleeping son. As he rose to his feet, Maggie touched his hand.
“I love you, Gavin,” she said between yawns. She burrowed into the pillow and fell into a deep sleep.
~~
The little girl with dark finger curls clutched a rag doll and grinned through the cottage door. Gavin squatted with arms outstretched. “Come here, you!”
Katy’s curls bounced like springs as she ran into her daddy’s arms. He tickled her and blew kisses into her neck.
“Is this a good time?” Constance, fellow missionary and mentor, interrupted the merriment, following three-year-old Katy inside.
“Perfect. Maggie’s rested a day and is ready for some company.”
“Good. Katy was about to wear a rut in our floor running back and forth. She was so excited to come over and see you. She was just waiting for the word.” She sauntered up behind the child and stroked her curls.
“Maggie’s antsy to see her as well.”
“So, Maggie came through all right?”
“With flying colors.”
“Well, she’s a real trooper, that’s for sure.”
“That she is.” Gavin thumbed in the direction of the bedroom. “Let’s go see the newest member of the Munsfield household, shall we?” He hoisted Katy onto his back and bounced her into the next room.
“Mommy!” Katy screamed as they cleared the door. Gavin set her down, and the child ran and jumped on the bed, smothering her mother with kisses. Maggie grimaced.
“Easy, girl.” Gavin reached for his daughter. “Gentle with Mommy. She’s got a boo-boo.”
Katy looked concerned. She patted Maggie’s face. “Do you hurt, Mommy?”
Maggie pulled Katy to her and wrapped her arms around her. “Just a little, but I’ll be fine.” She planted a kiss on top of Katy’s silky head. The child peered around the room. “Where’s my baby?”
Gavin laughed and swung Katy into his arms. “This is your baby.” He snuggled the doll into the child’s arms. Her lips curved into a mischievous grin and her eyes crinkled. “Oh, Daddy.”
Just then a cry sounded from a corner of the room. A nurse wheeled a bassinet over to Maggie’s side. Katy wiggled out of Daddy’s arms and stood on tiptoe to peer at her new brother.
“Dolly. Katy’s dolly.”
The adults laughed. Gavin stooped down beside his daughter. “Well, what do you think of him?”
“He’s noisy.”
Gavin chuckled. “Yes, he certainly is.”
“And his hair’s the color of fire. Like Mommy’s.”
Gavin nodded and winked at Maggie.
“He looks like a ‘Kyle.’”
Gavin raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin in the air. “Kyle, huh? What makes you say that?”
“Kyle and Katy. It fits.” The little girl rocked back and forth. “Kyle and Katy; Kyle and Katy,” she chanted, then hopped around the room. Rushing to her mother’s side, she said, “Can I hold him?”
Maggie patted the bed. Wanting to protect his wife, Gavin stepped between them. “How ‘bout you sit right here and you can hold your brother?” He pulled a plastic chair beside Maggie’s bed, then offered another seat to Constance. She declined the gesture. “You four enjoy some family time. I’ll just step out and get some coffee for Jeremiah.” She smiled. “He’s a lovely boy, Maggie. I know you’re proud. Get some rest; you’re going to need it.” She patted Maggie’s leg and left the room.
“Tell Jeremiah to come in and see our boy,” Maggie urged.
Katy climbed into the chair and held out her arms to receive the tiny bundle. Katy’s awe-struck expression amused Gavin. He knelt and studied the scene. His life was rich indeed—a gorgeous wife, two precious adorable children, the calling to serve as a missionary doctor in India, friends, and the unspeakable joy of walking with and learning from the Lord. His heart was so full. A wealthy man. Maybe in the past his ambition would have moved him to pursue a prestigious medical practice in the States. What folly that would have been. He’d seen what had happened to some of his intern buddies. Lucrative practices, but living for themselves, some with broken marriages and no time for their kids. No, he was glad God had weaned his heart from selfish ambition and given him a desire to return to India. It was Chennai that had gifted him Maggie and now these two beautiful children. He smiled and cupped one hand on Katy and the other on his baby son.
“So, Kyle is it?” He shot a look at Maggie whose expression suggested she was trying the name on for size.
“Kyle . . . you know, I like that name.”
Katy’s mouth erupted into a broad grin.
~~
The thought of going to see the baby was more than she could bear. Yet, it was expected. The other missionaries would be there, crooning over the new one. They would wonder why she hadn’t bothered to come. Who were they kidding? Of course they knew why she wasn’t there. Why did everyone pretend around her? While Dan would make excuses for her—he always did—everyone knew. With every passing month and now years, her disappointment festered into depression like a sore unattended.
Dan dropped his newspaper and eyed her from the kitchen table. “Sit down, Yvonne. You must have wiped that counter a zillion times by now. You’re going to wear the finish off.” He swiped a finger over his mustache and patted a chair beside him, then gulped some coffee.
Yvonne picked up two plates filled with eggs and toast and carried them to the table. Dan spread some jam over his bread as Yvonne slipped into her seat, her long legs bumping the table. She smoothed her hand over her kameez and bowed her head. Dan said a quick blessing. Afterwards, they delved into their scrambled eggs with a clank of knives and forks moving in morning rhythm.
Dan speared a piece of egg and shoved it into his mouth. Annoyed, Yvonne gaped at her husband. She squinted at his face, then flicked a piece of egg from his bushy mustache. “Why in the world can’t you be more careful when you eat?” She wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. “Maybe if you’d slow down, your food would get where it needs to go.”
“It’s a piece of egg, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t track grease all over the floor.”
Yvonne shot him a cynical sideways glance. “Well, that’s been known to happen, hasn’t it?” She got up to check the coffee maker. The rich aroma was about the only thing pleasant about this morning. She sat back down and in silence started to eat. He reached for her hand.
“When are you going to let it go?” His eyes were sympathetic, yet laced with determination defined by resolve.
She pursed her lips into a rigid point and wiped her hands repetitively on her napkin. Tossing the soiled cloth aside, she looked at the ceiling. She couldn’t even tolerate being in the same room with her husband. How was it she had let herself get this way? Let the love slip out of their relationship like water spiraling down the bathroom drain. She was as frustrated with herself as she was with him. After all, it wasn’t his fault, even though it should be. He was the former drug addict. It would make perfect sense for his reproductive system to be fried. But no, it was her fault. Her stomach churned at the thought. The tests had been conclusive: infertility was her problem, not his. Ten years and no baby. Why did she hold out hope? It kept her stuck in grief when she should be moving on. She had buried herself in teaching the primary children at the Oasis Compound. While she had taught them and played with them, in her heart, she had kept them at arm’s length. Was it fear?
“Come on, Yvonne. This isn’t about egg on the face, and you know it. When are you going to come to peace with the fact that we can’t have a baby? That we’re never going to have a baby?”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”
“All the doctors—”
“Doctors make mistakes; we’ve all heard stories that belie the medical profession. They’re not gods.”
Dan sighed. “No, they’re not gods. But God has used them to show us His will.”
“How can you be so sure? Look at Abraham and Sarah; barren Hannah. Even Jack and Martha back home, married 17 years and then a son.”
He drew up his lanky frame and rose from the table. Shuffling to the counter, he retrieved the carafe from the coffee maker, poured another cup and sat back down. Whenever he was frustrated or confused, he reached for coffee, his drug of choice since he’d been delivered from crack cocaine. While Yvonne enjoyed a good cup of coffee, she wasn’t addicted to it and felt frustrated that the stimulant held such a strong sway over him.
“We’ve been over this multiple times, Yvonne.” His voice was steady. “The Oasis children are our children.”
Yvonne bit her lip and looked away. While she reveled in her teaching role at the Oasis school, it just wasn’t the same as having her own baby. True, her classroom was her kingdom, an orderly one at that, and sometimes she was a severe taskmaster. Yet, on occasion, she surprised herself with her own gentleness. Just the other day, she had seen a little girl rock backwards in her chair grabbing the paper she was working on and crumbling it in the fall. Yvonne ran to the girl’s side, helped her up, and brushed off her dress. Typically, she would have accused the girl of mischief, causing a scene, then reprimanded her for her destroyed work, pressing the sheet to her chest and smoothing it. Perhaps she had not closed off her heart entirely.
Dan tossed his napkin aside and rose from the table. “Do what you will. I’m driving out to see the baby. If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” she said, a stubborn bent to her chin. As her husband walked out the door, hollowness filled her heart greater than any empty womb. In the past, infertility had brought them closer together. A team effort. But lately, they couldn’t be further apart. She pushed her half-eaten eggs away. She dropped her head in her hands and sobbed.
Would she and Dan ever find closeness again?