Mother, A Matchbox, and A Long Wait

This is the story of a tragedy that could have been worse and waiting on the outcome was a powerful lesson in life.

BASED ON A TRUE STORY

Mother, A Matchbox, and A Long Wait

In the spring of 1956 when I was 14 we lived in Clarksburg, West Virginia in a little house just over the hill on the bank of a river. There was a street light just above our house that cast shadows of everything down our way. This night about 7pm my sister, Sharon, and I were in the kitchen when we heard our dad yell, “Kids, c'mere! It’s your mother!” We ran toward his voice and there in the bathroom was our mother sitting on the commode moaning. There was blood on her nightgown. Daddy was leaning over her with his hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort, but really not knowing what to do. The sight brought feelings of panic. “What's wrong? What happened?” we asked. "I’m going to take your mother to the emergency room.” He looked at me and said,  “Ken, get me a blanket.”  As he helped her up he said, “I’m going to take her to Union Protestant Hospital." Take care of your brothers and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He wrapped mother in the blanket and carried her up the flight of steps to the black 1949 Chevrolet Sedan. We followed every step and helped get mother into the back seat where she could lie down, then we stood and watched until they were out of sight. We hated to see them disappear but we knew it had to be. This was the beginning of a very hard and long night of waiting

We descended the stairs back to the house filled with anxiety and fear, and having no idea what to do. Sometimes waiting is like a dark room with a locked door and no light switch, no windows�"no way out. While we waited we had the added responsibility of our brothers age 3 and 6. This responsibility called up a since of maturity. In a moment we found an adult inside of us that helped my sister and me know what to do. Instinctively, we wanted to help our younger siblings cope and that made us both grow up.  A strength that we did not know we had had came to our aid. We didn’t think about it�"it was just there. Times of crisis always brings unexpected discoveries.  We knew we needed to be strong for our little brothers and for each other. The three year old didn’t quite get it  but the 6 year old did. It was not a matter of determining to be strong by a positive attitude. It was just there!   

At 15 my sister was a spiritual person, she even had a prayer list for people she loved. So, she said, “Let’s pray!” And we did, “Lord, please don’t let our mother die. Please, make her well. In Jesus name, Amen!” We wept! It was good to do this, but the anxiety, though somewhat relieved, was not gone. I think this was the first time I ever understood the power of prayer. It was something you could do with meaning and earnestness and belief. And doing the right thing is what you need while you are waiting. Then we remembered the blood in the bathroom and my sister said we need to clean it up. When we looked into the bloody toilet we beheld an unbelievable sight! There was a baby floating there with a large clot of blood beside. The baby was about as long as your little finger�"the body of our sibling. What an awesome, amazing sight. Now, we understood what had happened. Mother had lost the baby. Sharon said she miscarried. She said the blood-clot was afterbirth. Sharon got a large spoon and took the baby from the water and laid it gently in a wash cloth. This was simply indescribable�"a baby! We went to the kitchen and laid it on the counter and dried its little body with the cloth. We could see fingers and toes and the developing face. It was fascinating to behold this tiny lifeless body. We were so glad we had not flushed the commode. What a horrible thought! But now, what do we do? In our teenage innocence and ignorance we made a decision. There was only one thing to do. It was clear that the baby had died so my sister and I agreed that we should bury it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. But how? 

We had a large box of kitchen matches on the shelf which we used to light all of the heaters and the burners on the stove top. The matches were long so that you could keep you hand back and when the fire ignited you wouldn’t get burned. This box was the perfect size for the burial so we took the matches out and wrapped the baby in the wash rag and placed him or her in the matchbox coffin. Then the procession, the four of us, Sharon, our two brothers ages 3 & 6 and I, went into the back yard where I dug a hole beside a rock. We placed the matchbox inside and my sister said another prayer., something like, "Oh, God, please help our mother and tell this little baby of our love. In Jesus name, Amen!” We cried and then we went back inside. 

Looking back I realized that the instance of finding this tiny baby had been such a shock it had relieved the anxiety of the earlier jolt. But now, our hearts were once again  fully focused on our mother and the full heaviness of waiting began again. It had been about an hour and a half since our parents left for the emergency room. We went to the living room at the front of the house and the four of us sat there. We wanted to be together and we couldn’t imagine going off by ourselves. My sister reminded us that “no news is good news.” As the hours grew long our brothers fell asleep though they tried not to. We stayed together because we were of one mind, fully in it together. We listened carefully for the car door and we did not turn on the radio for fear we would not hear their arrival. Besides everything else seemed so trivial compared to what we were going through. The quietness was oppressive  even intimidating, so every 15 minutes or so I went up the steps to look down the street for car lights. I couldn’t help it. Sitting still seemed to make it worse. 

There is a passage in the Bible that says, “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength….” We didn’t think about it at the time but about midnight we heard a car door and we went running up the steps to the street. Our dad said, “She’s ok! She’ll be home tomorrow.” What wonderful words!