In Her Dreams

The house breathed silence. The only sound that could be heard was the click of the propane stove turning up its heat. Light from the flames flickered and leapt across the room; shadows recoiled into their hiding places. Silhouettes of our living room furniture rested, dark and protective, against plastered walls. A street lamp stood outside, painting stripes of orange light on the carpet through the blinds. I sat by the window in my old wooden rocking chair. It squeaked softly as I rocked.
Jewel’s eyes, puffy and swollen from frightened tears, tried to fight away any more escaping moisture. Shadows cast in the real world are never as scary to a year old girl as the ones that lurk in dreams. Memories of monsters and ghouls from my own childhood dreams flooded my memory. I shut my eyes and tried to think of something different.
Exhaustion swept over her. Jewel’s legs and arms relaxed as I swung her gently backward and forward, then backward again. She sighed, sniffled, and shifted into a more comfortable position. Her head rested on my left shoulder. Long wet eyelashes tickled my neck, and finally closed. I couldn’t help but smile. It had been a trying day for the both of us. Gently, I started humming lullabies I had sung to her since the day she was born.
Jewel Marie was born at Cathy’s house. (Cathy was the midwife and my mother-in-law.) My husband Caleb and I lay in a big, plastic water trough generally used for watering horses. The lack of gravity in the water lessened the pains of the contractions. However, the pain still clenched me so powerfully that the only thing holding me up was the side of the tub. Nothing could have prepared me for that enormous pain, nor the immense joy and worry that would follow.
The trough stood in the middle of the sunroom. Cathy attached a gray hose to the connecting hallway’s water line that was originally used for the washing machine. The long tube curved toward us, dumping water into the pool we stayed in. Hot water was heated on the wood-burning stove in the kitchen. When the water simmered, Cathy’s assistant hauled it to the tub.
Splashes fell onto tan tiles underneath us. Strips of cedar lined the walls and large, shaded windows surrounded the room. A long desk stood at the far wall with scattered with various file folders and papers. A bed with wooden poles sat waiting on the opposite wall. The third wall contained a second bed and a large wooden bookshelf turned sideways, its back facing the end of the bed. Clouds hung low over the mountains outside, as if waiting for something great to happen. Candles shining in the windows fought them back, their light dancing in frosted glass containers.
Jewel finally came. Caleb caught her, but something was wrong. The water bag still hung around her head and face. She tried to take her first breath, but instead inhaled the mucus. Cathy pulled the obstruction away. Jewel let out a slight whimper. Hurriedly, Caleb handed the infant to his mother. All feeling in my entire body had gone numb. I was so tired. Caleb and Cathy’s assistant peeled me off of the tub wall and onto the bed.
Cathy turned the baby on her stomach and rubbed her smooth, slippery back with a warm towel. Tufts of short, brown hair stuck to the infants head. Her face scrunched up into wrinkles of baby fat. Lean legs stuck out from the towel that were as thick as broom handles. I could tell she was gasping for more air that she was getting. Her breathing was dangerously raspy, and uneven. The gunk on her little body was wiped off, but there was nothing we could do about the slime that clung to her lungs.
“Is the baby going to be all right?” Caleb asked, not quite knowing what to do.
“She needs a blessing,” said Cathy, worry evident in her eyes. Her silver hair frayed out messily, and her blue eyes were sparking with excitement.
“What do I call her?” he asked.
“Baby Ward,” she responded matter-of-factly.
During the conversation Jewel was laid next to me on the lodge pole bed. Both of us were wrapped in homemade quilts smelling of lavender and rain scented candles. I noticed that not only did it smell like rain, but also pitter-pattering raindrops started falling on the tin roof above us. The rain was like heaven pouring down around us. I watched as Caleb laid his large, warm hands on her tiny forehead.
“Baby Girl Ward, by the power of the holy Melchesadick Priesthood which I hold, I now place my hands on your head to give you a blessing…” his voice sounded deep and concentrated.
Shivers overtook me. If anybody needed help at that moment, we did. Everything seemed fuzzy, and yet nothing could have been clearer. It’s a confusing sensation, almost like tears streaming down a face that’s laughing uncontrollably. During that prayer, all of my confusion died away. I’d never felt such… peace. Truly, it was the most tangible, penetrating peace I’d ever felt.
God was with us. God was with Jewel. If she lived or died, our responsibility was to trust him with her. I wished with all my heart that she could stay with me. God is a better parent than I am, or anybody else. I ached for her, and myself. Realization flooded over me that God wouldn’t protect me from my hurt, but he would let me learn from it. It didn’t matter how our situation turned out.
Caleb’s words hung in the air after he finished. All of us looked down at the little angel lying beside me. She was breathing, her mouth open. No rasping, no whisper of anything blocked her breath. She looked up at us with dark blue eyes, seeing everything- everything for the first time. Jewel didn’t cry, she didn’t whine, she just gazed up at us. A warm, comforting feeling again came over me. Just like my little girl, I was seeing much more for the first time.
Smiles crept to our faces. All I remembered afterword was my little girl, snuggling up to me and falling asleep. The stars in her dreams were not as bright as the stars in her eyes the first time she looked up at me. I couldn’t contain myself. I started to sing her lullaby.
“Hush thee, my baby- be still love don’t cry. Sleep while you’re rocked by the stream. Sleep and remember my last lullaby, so I’ll be with you when you dream…”
Suddenly I was back in my living room, holding my sleeping baby in fuzzy pink pajamas. I fumbled back up the stairs to the bedroom and laid Jewel in her crib. She wiggled, flopped onto her side, and grabbed at the covers for comfort. I stood by her, looking down at the sleeping baby as I once did long ago.
“Good-night” I whispered, “Sweet dreams.”