The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,112
trimester, a lot of miscarriages were likely missed. It could be that Lydia had had an unconfirmed one. I flipped to the next page.
Primigravida was marked, indicating her first pregnancy. Continuing backward through the file, I read Marta’s notes about that birth, a healthy baby boy, though no date was listed. In fact, I realized, none of the entries related to this first birth had dates next to them. Odd. It wasn’t like Marta to be so sloppy. At least, from what I could tell, the birth and pregnancy were uneventful. Turning the pages, I finally came to the very first entry in the file, when Lydia was five months pregnant with her first child.
Smoothing the pages back into place, a wave of grief washed over me. Will had lost his wife and not one but two sons. I closed the chart as my first patient of the day opened the door. But instead of the person I was expecting, I saw Hannah, Will’s sister.
I quickly turned Lydia’s chart over on the desk, hiding her name.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked.
I glanced at the clock. I had five. I nodded.
“Will was headed to the feed store, so I hitched a ride. I’ve been having nightmares. I know it’s because of Lydia, but I keep dreaming this baby dies. And that Rachael dies. And that Jonas dies.” I hadn’t met her husband yet. “I’m hardly sleeping, and I wake exhausted from my dreams.” It wasn’t unusual for women to think they were dreaming excessively. In reality they were waking excessively and remembering their dreams. Although I was sure the content of a pregnant woman’s dreams did tend to be bizarre, likely due to fluctuations in hormones.
I talked with her about exercise and showed her a few breathing techniques. Then I gave her a bottle of valerian tincture and told her to mix it with water or juice. “And talk about how you’re feeling with someone.”
She tilted her head as she took the bottle and looked confused.
“Or write it down. But you can’t keep it bottled up inside, Hannah. This has been a huge loss for all of you.”
“She had a premonition.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not saying I’ve had a premonition. I’m just saying I’m having nightmares.” She stepped toward the door. “But Lydia was afraid something bad was going to happen.”
I’d heard of that before, but usually there was nothing to it. “Hannah.” I wasn’t sure how to phrase my question. “Did Lydia have any miscarriages or stillbirths?”
She shook her head.
“Did she lose any other babies?”
“No.” She appeared absolutely sincere. “Why?”
“Oh, I’ve just been trying to figure out what happened that night.” I smiled and stepped toward the door after her. “I’ll see you Monday.” She’d just started her ninth month and so would have appointments on a weekly basis from now on.
“See you then. And thank you,” she replied.
Before closing the door behind her, I looked out, noticed Will waiting in the buggy, and gave him a wave. He waved back, a smile on his face, completely unaware that I had been in here snooping through his late wife’s medical records. Heat burning my cheeks, I hurried back into the office to refile Lydia’s chart.
I did pray for Hannah, and I also prayed I’d have a chance to talk with Will in person, alone, when I was at the Gundy and Kemp farm. Three days later I headed over there, surprised to find that just driving down the lane made my heart race. I knew Will had bought this farm from Burke Bauer, the man who Mammi claimed was my biological father. If that was true, then that meant this had once been my father’s home, my family’s land. Trying to wrap my head around that, I made my way past the greenhouses and parked beside the smaller residence. As I climbed out and grabbed my bag from the trunk, the back door to the big house opened and Will stepped onto the porch.
“Hello,” I called out.
He shaded his eyes against the morning sun and then smiled once he recognized me.
“Hannah has an appointment,” I said.
“Ya. She’s over here.” He started down the stairs. “She’s having a difficult time, thinking about Lydia and all.”
I nodded.
“Oh, that’s right. You already know. I took her by your place Friday.” He pulled his straw hat over his red hair. “Seems everyone is having a hard time.”
“How is Christy?”
“Quiet.” He was standing opposite of me on the walkway now.