The Greatest of These (Sequel to Kansas Summer) -- Faith

March 15, 2004

        Jenna--

        "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. King.  I wish that I could tell you otherwise, but there's very little that we can do for you."  The young doctor of thirty-one, hair already starting to grey at the edges, studies his clipboard discernfully and taps his pencil nervously on the edge.  "The visual examination confirms what my intuition told me.  Usually if a woman miscarries once, it is natural, but after your second, then there is something at work.  In your case, your womb has a fair amount of scar tissue inside of it that allows fertilization, which explains why your pregnancy tests were positive, but unlike a normal pregnancy, the embryo doesn't have a strong hold on the wall, and as a result, it falls away, and," the young man swallows, "you miscarry."  He looks at me with a sense of pain in eyes that tell me that he is sympathetic.  I try to hold back the tears that I am embarrassed to shed, but instead, I turn my head into Colin's chest and empty my eyes into his denim jacket.

        "Is there a cure, Dr. Thompson?" my husband asks.

        He pauses, sighs, and then continues.  "Yes.  However, the surgery required to remove the tissue is quite involved, and therefore, very expensive.  While the scars themselves are harmless, while they exist, your wife will be infertile."

        That word.  It strikes death into my heart.  Ever since my youth, a family was something that I wanted more than anything.  The years spent playing house, helping in the nursery at church, babysitting for family and friends, watching the ladies I had known from a young age become pregnant, it all was a wonderful mystery for me, and something that I longed to experience for myself.  Infertile.  Unable to produce children.  I have one job in marriage, and that is to be a good homemaker, but how can I be one if I can't give my husband children?  I'm sure that Colin also is disappointed.  I wonder if he will love me less because of my condition, especially when I know that he shares my enthusiasm for raising a family.  I sob harder and feel a comforting hand on my back, rubbing me tenderly the way I know only Colin can.

        We don't stay too long after that.  I march out quickly to the car, but Dr. Thompson has a few words for Colin, so I leave him behind and get into the truck, curl into a ball, and bawl my eyes out..  When Colin returns, I demand answers from him.

        "Why did Dr. Thompson want to tell you?" I almost hiss.

        Colin puts his hands up and speaks gently.  "Look, Jen.  Don't think that I'm the bad guy here.  I may not show it, but I am very heartbroken over this.  I know how much we wanted children, but it's not going to happen any time soon.  I would appreciate it if you would show me a little respect and not be so harsh towards me.  Nobody here deserves any more stress, okay?"  He closes the truck door before he says anything else.  "Now, what do you want to ask me?"

        "Colin, what did Dr. Thompson discus with you after I left?" I ask with just a hint of agression.

        "Because I am your husband, I feel that I am not obligated to keep secrets.  Dr. Thompson said that he's seen cases like yours before with patients who used illegal forms of abortion, and wanted to ask me if I knew if you had done anything of the sort before."  Colin swallows, choking on his words.  "I said that I didn't, but I'm truly concerned for you, Jen.  Did something happen in Europe that you didn't tell me?"

        My eyes erupt like salty geysers again as I lay my head down on the dashboard.  Amidst the heaving and sobbing in my chest, I utter a single name: "Esperanza".

        "It was bound to happen.  You live as a prostitute and have sex with hundreds of men a week, so pregnancies happen.  The first time I got pregnant, it was difficult to keep up my duties during the few beginning weeks, but after I passed the fourth week, and I became used to the symptoms, the pain turned to joy.  For the first time in three months, there was something wonderful in my life.  After I had satisfied my clients, I would return to the bedroom I shared with the other women, and we would talk about the future.  We would talk about the baby and how there would be something to love.  However, I never noticed the looks that the older ones would give each other as I dreamed of owning a Paris flat with my son or daughter and watching him or her grow up and become a successful lawyer to fight against the prostitution rings.  If I was a wiser, less naive girl, I would've abandoned all hope before I became attached to the little one growing inside of me.

        A pregnant prostitute is not good business.  She needs time to prepare for birth, give birth, recover from birth, and take care of her child for several months, all of which take time.  Time that their owners don't have.  If they aren't entertaining clients, they don't make money.  It never occured to me why none of the other women had children until I was stretched spread-eagled on the edge of a table while a man dressed in a butcher's smock readied some sharp and pointy looking objects.  Within fifteen minutes, I was rid of my Esperanza, my Hope.  Ripped from me.  The physical pain lasted for three months, but the mental pain was there to stay."  

        Colin's mouth is agape in horror as I finish telling him my story.  My lip quivers as I avoid making eye contact with him, and stare only at the dashboard.  "And that's the way it's been." I sniffle.  Nobody speaks for another three minutes as we sit in the pickup truck in the middle of the small Goodland medical clinic.  Colin is the first of us to break the silence.

        "Well,, they say that in such times where you don't kow what to do, you should pray." he offers.

        "Really, Colin?" I snap again, "Praying to God isn't going to change this.  If He had wanted to do that, He would have done it a long time ago.  I don't expect you to believe it, but it really hurts when you know God isn't listening.  He's not going to perform a miracle for a person like me."

        "Now, Jen, you know that that's not you talking.  God's got His own agenda, you know.  A thousand days is like an hour and an hour is like a thousand days.  God's mercy works for those who are patient with Him and remember that all things work for those who trust Him.  I say we pray, Jen.  God knows everything better than we do."  Colin bows his head and begins: "God, Lord of Heaven and Earth, Great Physician, Mighty Healer.  We praise Your name because You are greatly to be praised, both in the good times and in the bad.  Right now Lord, things seem bad for us because we can only see the present, but You, God, see all things and cause all things to happen.  We ask that You guide us as Jenna and I deal with this heartbreaking news.  If it be Your will, O God, heal Jenna.  Comfort us God, remind us that You are always with us, even though we don't feel that You are.  Direct our paths and reveal Your plans to us so that we may serve you to the greatest potential.  Amen."