8/6/2019 I Envisioned My Grandfather

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I envisioned my grandfather, my Papa, swaying back and forth in the moon-lit window, reciting the foundational prayer of the Jewish people, the Shema,again by himself, forgiving anyone who may have antagonized or angeredhim or who had sinned against him. The soft, baritone voice, the tear-filledeyes, his smell and presence in my childhood room. How could this gentle,

pious man ever have been angered? "Papa? Papa," I tried to call out. Hisswaying, his familiar scent, his tears, my memories, swaying...

I had been raped

I awoke suddenly with a strange feeling of dread. As I came out of my sleep Irealized that I was on my couch and still fully dressed. I felt my head andthere were sticks and leaves tangled through it. Momentarily I felt as if Icould not move my legs and it began to dawn on me. I had been raped.

Only twenty-three, I had no family left. My dear grandparents who raised me

since I was a young child had been gone for five years now and I was alonein the world. When I realized what had happened to me, I tried to think of thenight before. Yet somehow I felt numbed, drugged even. I kept hearing thechanting of my Papa, seeing his swaying silhouette, falling in and out of semi-consciousness as his familiar words ebbed and flowed through mymind.

His sidelocks were swinging as he swayed back and forth and suddenly heturned from the window, looked directly at me and vanished.

I arose and although a bit unsteady, I was not badly hurt. I had no one to

call. I did not know what to do. So I showered and scrubbed my body andwashed my hair three times. I stood there, swaying gently under the streamof hot, cleansing water as I kept going over the previous night's events.Dinner down the road with friends, getting up to order another coke... andthe night suddenly turned black. I slowly realized that I had been druggedsomehow. This seemed to be a new phenomenon in 1982 - the date rapedrug ketamine causes hallucinations, dream-like states and oftenunconsciousness. As an emergency room nurse, I had heard of this being aproblem in the cities. However, we were located in a small town and had notseen any cases come in yet.

I called the county sheriff's office and through my tearful and sketchyrecollection of the events I tried to report what had happened. The officerthey said they would dispatch to my country home never arrived. I did notknow what else to do. In these years there was no rape protocol set out so Istayed inside my house for the weekend and recovered as best I could.

On my way home about three weeks after the rape, the feeling of dreadcame over me. I gripped the steering wheel as the realization that I may

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have become pregnant presented itself. When I arrived home I called afriend and told her of my concern and she told me to bring a urine sampleinto work the next day and her husband who worked in the lab would run apregnancy test. As I had feared, the results came back positive.

I remained in my house for three days as I grappled with my conscience

Again and again the chanting and praying of my Papa and the gentlekindness of my Nana kept flashing into my mind. They were so strong. Sospiritual. So good to me. I longed to hear their advice, to run to my Papa'sarms and pour out my heart to him. However, I was alone. I realized that Ihad some very important decisions to make and again I remained in myhouse for three days as I grappled with my conscience in isolation.

I was pregnant. That much was obvious. The pregnancy was the product of arape. Hence, the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. Although there

are truly three choices, I knew for myself that I would only choose betweentwo. How could I give up a child that was part of me for adoption? Would Ihave a lifetime of regret and wondering? Could I raise a child on my own,separating the child himself from the brutal act that had created him?

In the words of the Midrash:

 The Holy One, blessed be He, says: "When anguish comes upon the childrenof  Israel and they call upon Me, they should make themselves partners withMy glory and I shall answer them immediately." Thus it is written, "He shallcall upon Me, and I will answer him, I am with him in distress" (Psalms

91:15).

I began to pray nearly continuously, rarely sleeping and eating very little.After three agonizing days, I decided I would keep my baby and not tellanyone how he came to be. Nobody would know. I would protect my childfrom hearing of the horror from an errant comment and making him feel"unwanted" in his mind.

 The pregnancy went smoothly and soon after first feeling my baby flutterinside of me I began preparation for our life together. I was in love with mybaby. I saved money so I could take a year off of work. I changed my small

house around and added a tiny cradle to my bedroom. I installed child lockson every cupboard. I bought baby blankets and other necessary items as themonths went by. I kept busy, worked hard and ignored the disapprovingglances from some of the staff at the hospital where I worked. Since I wasunmarried, I bought baby blankets and other necessary items they assumedI had gotten myself into trouble, as it was phrased back then. It was toughbut mostly a happy time for me. I would raise my child the best I could,

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modeling my parenting after the example set by the kind grandparents whoraised me.

When I would become worried, I studied the Torah. I especially was fortifiedin my decision when I read Psalms 139:15-16 where King David wrote:

"My bones were not hidden from youWhen I was made in secret,When I was woven in the lowest parts of the earth.Your eyes saw even the embryo of me, And in your book all its parts were down in writing, As regards the days when they were formed  And there was not yet one among them."

My baby, already loved by me, was also known and cared about by G-d. I feltHis protective arms around us as I went about at work, ignoring the stares of 

those who perceived me immoral, and smiling with gratitude when someonewould ask what I would name my child.

I remember thinking of how happy I was and would respond that I wouldname my child Asher, if he was a boy, since the name means "happiness"and he had brought me so much happiness already. Two days before my duedate, I felt unwell. I went upstairs to the obstetrics ward and the nurses onduty checked me over. They listened to my child's heartbeat, felt forcontractions and then phoned my doctor. His partner was on call that nightand he instructed me to go home, relax and not to worry since this was myfirst baby and they come when they decide the time is right.

I left the hospital that night near midnight. As I traveled the snow coveredhighway home I began to feel very cold. I turned the heat on high in my car,yet as the trip wore on, I began shivering more. When I arrived at my house Ialternated between vomiting and stoking my already blazing wood stove. Icould not get warm. I tried lying down on the couch but suddenly a sharppain gripped my abdomen and did not release. Something was terriblywrong. Again, instead of calling for help, I wrapped myself in a downcomforter and began driving the steep mountain road back to town. Iremember once waking up, my car door open, and seeing myself lyingprostrate on the snowy highway. I began driving again and finally turned into

a ranch and banged on the door, screaming in pain and begging for help. Thecouple took me inside, called the doctor immediately and soon I wasadmitted to the hospital. A monitor was placed around my belly yet therewere no rhythmic contractions. Only a rock hard womb inside. The doctorplaced monitors inside of me, explaining that they were attached to mybaby's head to check his vital signs. The machine showed nothing. Herepositioned the leads and again the monitor was blank. "Abruptio

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Placentae," he whispered to someone. I saw tears in the eyes of the nursesand I knew. My child had died.

"My Asher, My Asher," I cried over and over

 The labor room seemed so dark and silent as I delivered a perfectly formed,seven-pound baby boy four hours later. Although he was not alive, thequietly weeping nurse washed his tiny body, wrapped him in a soft blanketand handed him to me. "My Asher, My Asher," I cried over and over. I rockedhim. I kissed him. Automatically I performed the rituals of all new mothers asI unwrapped his still-warm body and counted his fingers and toes. I rockedback and forth, running my fingers through his dark hair, repeating,"Y'vorechicha Hashem v'yshimrecha" - May G-d bless you and safeguardyou. In my stunned grief, it was all I could think of to utter.

As his body grew cold, the nurse took my Asher away and I awoke later to a

whirl of questions and paperwork I never realized existed. "What will youname him?" one inquired, a death certificate instead of a birth certificate inher hand. "Asher," I replied through my tears. "Please sign so we may sendhim for an autopsy," one instructed. "He must be back before Friday," was allI could think of responding as I scribbled my signature where she had placedher finger. "Where would you have him buried?" asked another. I respondedwith a blank stare. To a nurse walking into my room I stated with a strangecalm, "He must be circumcised, I think." She said she would make a specialnote of it. And then I slept. No more questions. No more decisions.

No more Asher. No more happiness.

Except for G-d, my life felt blank.

In the ensuing days, I sat in my home alone while I recuperated. I prayed. Icried. I screamed. I longed for someone to come by and have a cup of teawith me. I wished for someone who would listen to the truth of my story. YetI found I had isolated myself once again and began repeating my familiarchildhood Shema prayer for comfort.

B'shem Hashem Elokay Yisrael, m'yemini Michoel, umismoli Gavriel,umilfonai Uriel, u-may-achorai Refoel, v'al roshi sh'chinas E-l. In the Name of 

the L-rd, G-d of Israel: May Michael be at my right, Gabriel at my left, Urielbefore me, and Raphael behind me; and above my head the Presence of G-d.

It was all I could think of saying. I swayed, I laid on my bed, I paced and Isang it, over and over until the Shema began to comfort me. There was noone else for me but G-d. I did not realize it then, but I now am certain I couldnot have had a better companion in my grief.

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I have learned many lessons

In all of this I have learned many lessons. I have learned true, gut-wrenchinggrief. I have learned loneliness. I have learned that the gentle and spiritualupbringing of my grandparents really did prepare me to survive anything;

they had given me the gift of knowing my Creator. Truly, a more powerfulgift cannot be found. I also realized that although the pain of losing one'schild never truly leaves, it does subside with time. I now know what words tosay to someone who is grieving. I know that just sitting in silence is often thebest. Listening to them tell their story is essential. Frequent short visits arecomforting. I have learned not to ask the bereaved to call me. They won't. Icall them instead. I send cards on the date of passing, the yahrtzeit . Andmost of all I have learned to rely upon G-d for true comfort.

It was twenty four years ago today that I buried my son.

 Just born.

Not born.

Still born.

I always have and always will love you Asher, Mama