Invisible Touch

Invisible Touch

Chapter 3 ~ Birth

Margaret Maxwell delivered a baby boy on a cold, rainy day in October. The weather hardly mattered. There was nothing but blue sky, as far as she was concerned. Eight pounds and three ounces of sunshine had streamed down from heaven and would light up the rest of her days.

Maggie's parents were with there. Betty had been with her all through the labor and delivery. John had been in the waiting room and in the coffee shop and in the gift shop and back to the waiting room. He'd made this circuit so many times people were beginning to wonder if he were training for a marathon, or if he was just trying to wear out the hospital's shiny floor. He was a bundle of nerves all day and jumped like a cat when a nurse told him it was time, that his daughter had just given birth, and that he could see them now.

He hugged his wife and gave Maggie a pat on the arm, the one that wasn't cradling the new baby. He was practically in tears. They all were. Nothing could have prepared them for the joy they all felt. The excitement had been building for so long, but the birth of this little angel was more wonderful than any of them could have imagined.

"And what are you going to name this precious little bundle?" asked the new grandmother.

"Name?" Said Maggie with a giggle. "Hmm, a name." She held him up and pretended to study the baby, as if it had never occurred to her that a person was supposed to be given a name. She looked at her mother. She beamed at her father. "Ernest John Maxwell," she said with a smile.

"But... But that's my name," he replied in mock disapproval.

"The Second," she added. "And I'm going to call him Ernie."

"I never cared for my own first name," her father confessed. "But I'll be darned if that little guy doesn't look like an Ernie! Maggie, I am so touched and honored."

"I'm just glad he was a boy," said her mother. "Ernie would have been a terrible name for a girl!"

"Oh, mother!" giggled Maggie. And there was more laughter. They so enjoyed this moment. They delighted in this new life. Outside, the rain had actually stopped and the sky looked as if it might clear someday. Ernie had done this. They were sure of it!

Maggie held Ernie and just looked at him. Looked into those little eyes. They held so much promise, she knew. What her parents had given her, she would give to him. The love and nurturing and support that she received as a child, was still receiving this very day, she would share those with her son.

Her son. She thought about it. She marveled at the thought. "My little boy," she cooed as she held and gently rocked him. "Are you going to be a smart boy? Yes you are! Are you going to grow up and study and learn? Are you going to be a teacher someday just like your... just like your mommy?" She said, pausing, feeling just a twinge of anxiety with their circumstances.

They interacted like this for hours. Her parents looked on with wonder. How much he reminded them of her. How much reminded them of themselves. Life was a circle. A big, beautiful round circle that spun round and round.

John looked at those small hands, those tiny fingers. What a miracle this was! They would some day hold a rattle, a crayon, a ball, a diploma. How far would this child go in life, he wondered. He was Maggie's creation, of course, her wee ball of clay to shape and form into the best kind of human sculpture she had learned how to make. He and his wife would help, of course. That was part of the equation, being grandparents. They had shaped the mother and now they would help to shape the grandson, and spoil him, too, along the way.

Maggie was getting tired from all the excitement. Gramma and Grampa took turns holding Ernie for a while. They looked at each other and each knew what the other was thinking. This day brought back memories of their own little baby, of their own little girl, who was now so grown up and who had brought all this happiness.

Ernie was asleep now and Gramma Betty laid him down in his cradle. A nurse wheeled him down the hall, a watchful Grampa John making sure he got there safely. New mom looked as peaceful as she looked worn out, and was sleeping now.

"It's OK if you want to stay," a nurse told them. "We have special rules for the grandparents here."

They realized how late it was getting, that visiting hours were over.

"No, we should be on our way home for the night," Betty told her. "If she wakes up, tell her we'll be here bright and early tomorrow."

"Of course I will," said the nurse.

It was hard to turn and leave, but Maggie needed to rest. It was going to be a busy day tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. For all of them. But they looked forward to every minute of it.

Betty and John returned the next morning at 7 AM with a balloon and a box of doughnuts. They were greeted abruptly as they neared the nursing station.

"Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell," a frantic nurse said, recognizing them. "Please come with me."

She led them to the room they had been in the day before, but it didn't look at all familiar. It was filled with rolling carts and tall metal stands with bottles hanging down and there were lots of tubes and Maggie was connected to one of them. She had a pale gray color to her.

"What's happened? Is she going to be OK? Where's the baby?" Betty asked frantically. John helped her to sit down in one of the chairs.

"Are these the parents?" a doctor asked the nurse who had brought them in."

"We're the grandparents," John said. "We're her parents," he corrected himself, understanding what the doctor was really asking. Maggie was a patient now.

"Your grandson is doing just fine," the doctor reassured them. "He's being cared for in the nursery. Your daughter has lost a lot of blood and gone into hemorrhagic shock. We're giving her oxygen and fluids. We have stabilized her, but we have some concerns."

All of the joy that had once filled this room was now sucked out like a vacuum. John and Betty looked each other blankly.

"Concerns," repeated John.

"Yes. I don't have a full medical history in front of me. Can you tell me if Maggie has any history of heart problems?" the doctor asked.

"No," said Betty. "She's been a perfectly healthy girl. Her whole life. Perfectly healthy."

"She seems to have some damage to her heart tissue," he told them. We've done some blood work and she has a condition called 'von Willebrand Disease' which can cause abnormal bleeding. But the heart itself seems to be damaged. These factors may or may not be related. We're managing both, of course."

"Thank you, Doctor," John said. He was in such shock, he didn't know what to think. His mind raced through possibilities that just weren't... they just couldn't be possible. What had gone wrong, and... Things like this happen all the time, he thought. This is the finest hospital in Milwaukee. There is a reason people come here from all across the state, from all across the Midwest -- to this hospital, to these doctors... But they're only human. John Maxwell was not a religious man, but he knew there was some... something that kept this whole ship afloat. He bowed his head and began to pray. "Please... please, God, don't take my baby."

He felt an arm around his shoulder. It was a nurse. As old as he was, he sensed she was. "Everything's going to be OK," she said. A younger nurse was crouched next to the chair in which his wife sat. These people really cared. And he was so grateful. "Thank you," he said to the nurse beside him. He looked at the other nurse and at the doctor, who was now, with another nurse and another doctor, tending to Maggie. "Thank you all," he finished.

"Mr. Maxwell," the older nurse said. "Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell, your daughter is in excellent hands. But Ernie..."

"Is something the matter with the baby?" Betty interjected in a panic.

"He's hungry," the nurse replied. "He has asked me to come and fetch his Gramma and Grampa. She said, forcing a smile. "And some steak and eggs, I mean a bottle of formula," she added.

John smiled, and was surprised with himself, and a little bit ashamed. This was no time for jokes, but he knew the nurse was just trying to help. He held out his hand to his wife and they went to the nursery. Maggie was in good hands -- they had to believe that. There was nothing they could do to help her right now. Ernie's breakfast, on the other hand, was something they could handle.

The nursery was busy with activity. Nearly two dozen newborns were being cared for here, and each cradle had a handmade card announcing its occupant. So many lucky families, Betty thought. Even ours. But why, she wondered silently.

Ernie looked up at them and smiled. "He must recognize us," John said. "He's got your eyes, you know," he said to his wife.

"He's got Maggie's eyes, and do you really think they look like mine?" Betty said. She couldn't even picture her own face. Maybe he's right, she thought. But it didn't matter.

"Gramma, I'm hungry," John said in a high voice. He took his cue from that nurse and tried to relieve a bit of the burdensome sorrow that hung over the situation. He loved it when she smiled, especially when it was because of something he did. It worked this time, and he was glad at what he'd accomplished.

They weren't even aware that the nurse who had accompanied them into the nursery was still standing there, but she handed Betty a bottle. John took the bottle from her and motioned for his wife to take Ernie from his cradle. There was a circle of glider rocking chairs at one end of the nursery and Betty sat down with her hungry companion. John handed the bottle back to her and she guided it slowly into his waiting mouth.

"Have some yummy steak and eggs, little man," she said to him with a smile. He was slow to realize the treat he had before him, but finally began to drink. The rest of the world finally melted away as she fed him.

This was just what she needed, John thought. And just what he needed, to see her occupied like this, her mind away from the situation which was... please, please, please... being resolved just down the hall.

The nurse watched Betty for a minute and then turned to the window that looked out onto the hallway. The younger nurse was outside looking in. Tears were streaming down her face.

His breakfast finished, Ernie was placed back in his cradle. John and Betty went with their nurse back to Maggie's room. The mood there was very somber. Maggie was dying, the doctor explained. She had a heart condition nobody had known about, and her heart had been damaged further by the blood loss and shock she had suffered.

"Is there anybody we should call?" asked the Doctor. "Clergy? Anybody?"

"No, it's just us," John replied.

A nurse was sent to fetch a minister from the waiting room who had come to visit with one of his parishioners. He came quickly, and spoke to John and Betty, "I'm so sorry to meet you under such circumstances." He asked permission to offer a prayer for Maggie. Her parents both nodded. The minister bowed his head and prayed quietly.

A nurse brought Ernie into the room and placed his head under Maggie's hand. There was not a sound in the room.

Her eyes were closed. She felt the warmth of Ernie's body. "Ba --" came from her mouth. "Baby," she managed to say. The nurse lifted Ernie to her lips, and Maggie kissed his head. Her body went limp and one of the machines at her bedside began to sound in alarm.

A crowd of doctors and nurses rushed into the room and Ernie was lifted out of their way. Medicines were injected, shocks were given, CPR was administered, but none of it was going to bring Maggie back from the journey she was now taking. From this world, she had departed.

A crowd had gathered in the lobby of the hospital. Maggie's friends had come to visit her and the new baby, but they were being held at bay by a hospital administrator.

"I know, visiting hours have begun, but you must please bear with us for a little bit," the administrator told the group.

Excitement had turned to frustration, but was turning to concern at the situation that was developing.

John Maxwell entered the lobby. He had been told that Maggie's friends were had come for a visit, and he felt he ought to see them. Many of them he already knew, most recently from the happy occasion of Maggie's baby shower, and her surprise thirtieth birthday party before that. Familiar faces looked back at him. The sorrow in his eyes quickly turned to sorrow in theirs, even before he had a chance to speak.

"Friends," he began simply, "I am afraid I must be the bearer of terrible news. Our beloved Maggie has passed away. She had a heart condition we did not know about and complications from acute blood loss after the birth of her son, Ernie. The baby is doing just fine, for which we are grateful. But dear Maggie is gone."

There was weeping from some, as he knew there would be, and stunned silence from others. He addressed one of Maggie's best friends, a fellow teacher. "Mark, I have your number and I will be in touch about the arrangements, if you would be good enough to pass the information along."

"Of course," he said. "Of course. And whatever else I can do, just ask. I am at your service. Please don't hesitate to call."

The funeral was a difficult time for everyone. Because Maggie was so very young, it was impossible to celebrate her life without asking why she had been taken away from friends and from family and from a new son.

Baby Ernie would have two parents after all. For a very brief time, he knew his own mother. But now, as fate would have it, Gramma and Grampa would be his only family.

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