A Miracle
Annis was in obvious pain. She'd been uncomfortable all day, she said it was her belly, but what could we do? We'd already given her painkillers and it didn’t seem to help. We were at "Contagious Joy", a Women of Faith Conference in Vancouver. My mother had booked these tickets two months ago, we'd been waiting and planning for a long time, and the conference was finally here. Poor Annis, what a time to be sick! We couldn't just drive her back to Langley, we were here with a van full of ladies; if we left they would have no way home.
My mother had come out for the conference from Cortes Island, along with Annis and my Aunty Nora, both of whom live with her, and their friend Lisa. Cortes was small, with just over one thousand year-round residents, one doctor with a small clinic, one bank, no police, and four general stores. My mother loved it. I moved away when I was 15. I had to, there is no high school on the island. Since then, my room had been filled with anyone who needed a place to stay, and Annis was the current tenant. A refugee from Sudan, Annis and her two children had been living with my mother and my aunt for roughly eight months. She and her children, a beautiful, vivacious and self-assured seven-year-old girl, and a demanding one-year-old boy who could be a mold for the perfect black baby-doll, had fit in well with my mother's busy household. Annis was somewhat quiet herself, often lost behind her daughter's bright chatter, but we understood. Her English was still halting at best, and she sometimes had difficulty making out what we were saying.
Recently there had been talk of Annis moving out. There was a Sudanese community in Abbotsford where she could be established, and there was even a man there who wanted to marry her. They had been talking on the phone. He was a good Christian man with a stable home, and her husband had died before the birth of her second child in Sudan, so she was quite alone. My mother had been collecting money for her, for a few months' rent, and God had been supplying in His usual manner. Donations from friends and family had poured in, and in less than a month, they had practically reached their three thousand dollar goal. The plan was to move her out in January. Annis was excited.
But she was sick at the conference. Aunty Nora mentioned that maybe she hadn't been eating right; maybe with the traveling it was all too stressful. They'd arrived just three hours before the conference was to start on Friday night, and they were planning to leave on Sunday morning, early. It was Saturday, and the conference was almost over. I sat beside Annis and patted her arm as she grimaced. "It might take a while for the painkillers to kick in...” I said, trying to sound reassuring. It was almost three o'clock, there were only two hours left of the conference. If she could just hold on until then we'd get her home and she'd be able to rest...
My mother had noticed a first aid station in one of the rooms out in the hall, and they had a cot. She asked Annis if she'd like to lay down there for a while until the conference was over. Annis agreed, and my mother came back shortly after to listen to the speaker with Lisa and I. Aunty Nora was sitting with my Oma a few rows behind us, and the rest of the ladies we'd brought had seats on the other side of the auditorium, near my Aunty Trudy and her friend, Ruth.
Partway through the last speaker, not 20 minutes after my mother rejoined us without Annis, one of the first aid attendants found our seats and leaned over to speak with Mom. I couldn’t make out what he said, but I heard Mom’s reply. “No, she’s not. She can’t be!” He looked confused and said that the ambulance was already here. Mom stood to follow him and Lisa went as well; I decided to stay behind, but started gathering up our stuff just in case we had to leave quickly. Sure enough, after what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, my mom returned and told me to grab my stuff, we were leaving. Lisa had gone with Annis in the ambulance. Standing as we headed for the door, Aunty Nora followed us out.
“What’s wrong mom?” I asked, “Is Annis OK?” My mom just looked at me and shook her head, her hazel eyes dazed. “She’s having a baby.”
My Aunty Nora’s face lit up. “I knew it!” she said. “I should have known. How could we not have known? We were even bugging her about looking pregnant, we tried to get her to join us on our diet!” I started laughing. It was just sinking in. A baby! Quietly I followed my mother’s curly hair through the hallway and tried to fathom it. A baby! And being born here in Vancouver, instead of at home on Cortes where they might not have known it was happening on time to get to a doctor. God fit this life’s beginning into a 48 hour window of safety. A miracle.
God had a plan, long before we even imagined it.
Just as I began to wonder what would become of the other ladies we’d give a ride to, my mom stopped to talk to my Aunty Trudy’s friend Ruth. They had been sitting all the way on the other side of the auditorium, but somehow Ruth had been in the hallway when my mother went rushing by after the paramedic. “I don’t understand it,” she said, “I hadn’t left Trudy’s side all day. I didn’t even need to us the washroom or anything, I just got up and came into the hall, and there you were!”
Trudy and Ruth were staying in Vancouver during the conference, in a hotel nearby, and they had been going to take Ruth’s small car into the city. However, Ruth’s husband told her the morning they left that the lock was broken in the small car, so he’d rather not have it parked downtown. Instead, they took the van. There was plenty of room for Ruth to drive my mothers’ carload of women back to Langley.
A third miracle.
We arrived at the hospital, called ourselves family, and were sent to the room Annis was laying in. The nurses were full of questions. We told them we hadn’t known she was pregnant, but they kept asking. Where was she registered? Is this her due date? Had she had prenatal care? Um… no, no, and no. We felt a little silly, the closest people to her not having realized her condition, but the nurses told us kindly that this happened before.
After telling the nurse all I knew, I sat in the corner and watched. Sweet, soft-spoken Lisa was coaching Annis on her breathing, and was reassuring her. Aunty Nora was rubbing her back, looking kindly down at her. My mother was holding her hand, squeezing when the contractions were getting bad, and praying with her using the few Arabic praises she had learned.
All I could think was how friends are Jesus with skin on. When it got really bad, Annis turned and cried my mother’s name, and it brought tears to my eyes. This woman who we’d hardly met eight months before, was now counting my mom as one of her closest friends. All these women in this room, gathered about in care and support, disregarding any anger or resentment they might have had that Annis hadn’t shared her condition, this was another miracle.
Annis needed a C-section, the baby was too high. My mother went in with her and held her hand throughout the operation. I don’t think two hours has ever taken so long. Then, out came a nurse with a little pink bundle. Adriela Joy, 6lbs, 14 ounces, was born on November 4, 2006. She was healthy and at least full term. If she had come just 24 hours before or after, she and her mother might have died. Welcomed by a large Canadian family and extended family, this girl whose name means “my strength is God” is the first of her siblings to be born in Canada, free and healthy. She is a miracle.
My mother had come out for the conference from Cortes Island, along with Annis and my Aunty Nora, both of whom live with her, and their friend Lisa. Cortes was small, with just over one thousand year-round residents, one doctor with a small clinic, one bank, no police, and four general stores. My mother loved it. I moved away when I was 15. I had to, there is no high school on the island. Since then, my room had been filled with anyone who needed a place to stay, and Annis was the current tenant. A refugee from Sudan, Annis and her two children had been living with my mother and my aunt for roughly eight months. She and her children, a beautiful, vivacious and self-assured seven-year-old girl, and a demanding one-year-old boy who could be a mold for the perfect black baby-doll, had fit in well with my mother's busy household. Annis was somewhat quiet herself, often lost behind her daughter's bright chatter, but we understood. Her English was still halting at best, and she sometimes had difficulty making out what we were saying.
Recently there had been talk of Annis moving out. There was a Sudanese community in Abbotsford where she could be established, and there was even a man there who wanted to marry her. They had been talking on the phone. He was a good Christian man with a stable home, and her husband had died before the birth of her second child in Sudan, so she was quite alone. My mother had been collecting money for her, for a few months' rent, and God had been supplying in His usual manner. Donations from friends and family had poured in, and in less than a month, they had practically reached their three thousand dollar goal. The plan was to move her out in January. Annis was excited.
But she was sick at the conference. Aunty Nora mentioned that maybe she hadn't been eating right; maybe with the traveling it was all too stressful. They'd arrived just three hours before the conference was to start on Friday night, and they were planning to leave on Sunday morning, early. It was Saturday, and the conference was almost over. I sat beside Annis and patted her arm as she grimaced. "It might take a while for the painkillers to kick in...” I said, trying to sound reassuring. It was almost three o'clock, there were only two hours left of the conference. If she could just hold on until then we'd get her home and she'd be able to rest...
My mother had noticed a first aid station in one of the rooms out in the hall, and they had a cot. She asked Annis if she'd like to lay down there for a while until the conference was over. Annis agreed, and my mother came back shortly after to listen to the speaker with Lisa and I. Aunty Nora was sitting with my Oma a few rows behind us, and the rest of the ladies we'd brought had seats on the other side of the auditorium, near my Aunty Trudy and her friend, Ruth.
Partway through the last speaker, not 20 minutes after my mother rejoined us without Annis, one of the first aid attendants found our seats and leaned over to speak with Mom. I couldn’t make out what he said, but I heard Mom’s reply. “No, she’s not. She can’t be!” He looked confused and said that the ambulance was already here. Mom stood to follow him and Lisa went as well; I decided to stay behind, but started gathering up our stuff just in case we had to leave quickly. Sure enough, after what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, my mom returned and told me to grab my stuff, we were leaving. Lisa had gone with Annis in the ambulance. Standing as we headed for the door, Aunty Nora followed us out.
“What’s wrong mom?” I asked, “Is Annis OK?” My mom just looked at me and shook her head, her hazel eyes dazed. “She’s having a baby.”
My Aunty Nora’s face lit up. “I knew it!” she said. “I should have known. How could we not have known? We were even bugging her about looking pregnant, we tried to get her to join us on our diet!” I started laughing. It was just sinking in. A baby! Quietly I followed my mother’s curly hair through the hallway and tried to fathom it. A baby! And being born here in Vancouver, instead of at home on Cortes where they might not have known it was happening on time to get to a doctor. God fit this life’s beginning into a 48 hour window of safety. A miracle.
God had a plan, long before we even imagined it.
Just as I began to wonder what would become of the other ladies we’d give a ride to, my mom stopped to talk to my Aunty Trudy’s friend Ruth. They had been sitting all the way on the other side of the auditorium, but somehow Ruth had been in the hallway when my mother went rushing by after the paramedic. “I don’t understand it,” she said, “I hadn’t left Trudy’s side all day. I didn’t even need to us the washroom or anything, I just got up and came into the hall, and there you were!”
Trudy and Ruth were staying in Vancouver during the conference, in a hotel nearby, and they had been going to take Ruth’s small car into the city. However, Ruth’s husband told her the morning they left that the lock was broken in the small car, so he’d rather not have it parked downtown. Instead, they took the van. There was plenty of room for Ruth to drive my mothers’ carload of women back to Langley.
A third miracle.
We arrived at the hospital, called ourselves family, and were sent to the room Annis was laying in. The nurses were full of questions. We told them we hadn’t known she was pregnant, but they kept asking. Where was she registered? Is this her due date? Had she had prenatal care? Um… no, no, and no. We felt a little silly, the closest people to her not having realized her condition, but the nurses told us kindly that this happened before.
After telling the nurse all I knew, I sat in the corner and watched. Sweet, soft-spoken Lisa was coaching Annis on her breathing, and was reassuring her. Aunty Nora was rubbing her back, looking kindly down at her. My mother was holding her hand, squeezing when the contractions were getting bad, and praying with her using the few Arabic praises she had learned.
All I could think was how friends are Jesus with skin on. When it got really bad, Annis turned and cried my mother’s name, and it brought tears to my eyes. This woman who we’d hardly met eight months before, was now counting my mom as one of her closest friends. All these women in this room, gathered about in care and support, disregarding any anger or resentment they might have had that Annis hadn’t shared her condition, this was another miracle.
Annis needed a C-section, the baby was too high. My mother went in with her and held her hand throughout the operation. I don’t think two hours has ever taken so long. Then, out came a nurse with a little pink bundle. Adriela Joy, 6lbs, 14 ounces, was born on November 4, 2006. She was healthy and at least full term. If she had come just 24 hours before or after, she and her mother might have died. Welcomed by a large Canadian family and extended family, this girl whose name means “my strength is God” is the first of her siblings to be born in Canada, free and healthy. She is a miracle.