The Miracle Child

Hello everyone! Sorry that this post is a little late. I hope you guys had a great month!

Because the Walk for Life, a yearly fundraiser to help save the lives of innocent babies, is coming up, and because spring is a time of new life, I thought I would share a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class.

I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

***

                “Excuse me. Mrs. Hartman?”

            Dolores Hartman looked up from the magazine to see the nurse standing over her.

            “Yes?” Dolores said.

            “Dr. Jones is ready to speak with you.”

            “Oh, thank you.”

           Dolores stood and followed the nurse into a room. In one corner stood an examining table. Nearby a counter waited with different examination tools. A stool rested underneath the counter, and someone had placed a chair next to a wall. Dolores sat in the chair. She hoped that Dr. Jones didn’t have any bad news for her. The nausea that she had been experiencing lately could be a sign of the flu or some other nasty disease. Dolores only had to wait a few minutes before Dr. Jones came in.

            “Hello, Dolores. Are you feeling well today?” she said.

            “I vomited before breakfast again, but I feel fine now,” Dolores looked at Dr. Jones expectantly, “Is there something wrong with me? Do I have some sort of stomach bug?”

           “Not exactly,” Dr. Jones hesitated.

            “Yes?”

            “Even though it was very unlikely at your age, the symptoms did fit with it, so I tested to see if you were pregnant.”

            “Whhaatt?” Dolores’s head began to spin.

            “You tested positive. You’re pregnant.”

            “I’m pregnant? Steve and I were told we couldn’t have children. All our children are adopted. This isn’t some sort of joke is it?”

            “No, it’s not,” Dr. Jones pulled the stool over to sit next to Dolores, “I know it’s a shock, but you should try to calm down, okay? Breathe in and breathe out. Breath in, breathe out.”

            Dolores followed Dr. Jones’ instructions. Her head stopped spinning, and she put her hand on her stomach. Where her baby was.

            “It’s a miracle,” Dolores said, “But you’re absolutely positive that I’m pregnant?”

            “Yes, you are,” Dr. Jones smiled, and then frowned, “You must be careful though. Try not to get overly excited, and don’t overexert yourself. Fifty years isn’t exactly a normal child-bearing age.”

            “I will. I promise,” Dolores smiled, “I’ve been wanting this all my life.”

            “I know.”

            After Dr. Jones gave her a few other instructions, Dolores left the doctor’s office. When she got home, she called Steve at work.

            “I’m pregnant!”

            “What?”

           He was just as shocked and excited as she was. But he had to get back to work, so Dolores hung up.

           “God has answered our prayers,” she whispered to herself, “Thank you, Lord.”

            She called her children, who now had homes and small children of their own. They were happy for her, but also slightly worried.

           “Be careful, Mom. We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

            “I will, I will.”

            And she did. It was difficult, trying not to overexert herself. Steve became the helicopter husband, nearly always hovering around, making sure that she didn’t do anything too difficult and when he wasn’t there, her kids were calling, checking up on her.

           “Don’t lift the Dutch oven, Mom. It’s too heavy.”

           Dolores herself was slightly worried. She tried to avoid heavy lifting and working too hard, without shirking any of her duties as a wife, mother, and grandmother. When she felt her baby kicking inside, or heard his or her little heartbeat, or saw its little form on the ultrasound, she knew that her child’s life was worth it; that her little God-given miracle should be protected.

           Soon her time came. When her little boy was placed in her arms, as her husband stood beside her, and all her kids and grand-kids crowded around, she felt the happiness that only a new mother could feel after giving birth. And she had given birth, at the age of fifty, to a little boy named Samuel Gian Hartman, her gift from God.

***

May God be with you and bless you all! Thank you for reading!

Hannah

2 thoughts on “The Miracle Child

  1. I am impressed… very well written! It looks like you have inherited your grandmother”s gift of writing. I always thought she should be writing a book. I imagine you will get around to that!

    Like

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