Jenny's Ghost

With a sigh, Jenny clambered out of the car. As her pregnant belly swelled her body simply ran out of steam earlier; yesterday's long road trip back east to visit friends had about worn her out. However, even lacking her normal stamina she reminded herself how glad she was to be on vacation. John was so excited about this trip and surely deserved the break. His working full time and going to night classes for three years hadn't allowed them time to take a real vacation in too long. Today's hike was the first day of a much-anticipated break.
Straightening the stiff muscles in her back, she took in the nearby forest. Crisp mountain air filled her lungs and stirred her hair, a welcome change from the heat and humidity of the city. The trailhead was marked by a rustic wooden sign swathed in flowering vines. The path itself was a cool dark tunnel sheltered by a bramble of snowy blooming dogwoods, bright green ferns and thickets of lavender azaleas. The fragrant essence of an Appalachian spring in full sun-warmed glory filled her nostrils. It was a fine April morning, a beautiful day for a hike. She unpacked her camera, excited to have a chance to practice her neglected hobby, photography, in such a sylvan setting. John was deep in conversation with their friends about what a great day it was and indeed, until this morning, everything had been wonderful.
It was this morning that she became aware something had changed. Waking in the hotel room she'd lain in bed listening to John singing in the shower along with his favorite songs on the golden oldies station. The coffee he'd been thoughtful enough to start smelled delicious and the morning sun illuminated the curtains with a warm glow. She couldn't have been more content.

As she ran her hand over her raised belly an abrupt shock had jolted her as she became aware that she hadn't felt the baby move during the night. Indeed, she'd slept all the night through. With a shudder she thought "It can't be! Not again!" Her mind raced to remember when last she felt the tiny life move inside her. The entire trip out she'd had to stop at nearly every rest stop to empty her bladder, the baby's velvet but insistent flutterings ensuring her discomfort. It was during supper that she last remembered feeling movement. Then she'd collapsed into bed, tired from the travel. She'd slept soundly all night.
The realization brought a stab of pain and loss so intense, so piercing it was like a cold knife in her heart. "Oh god, not again!" Her mind filled with dread, the ice water of loss flooding every crevice of her thoughts. This was her third try at pregnancy and the doctors had told her if it wasn't successful it would have to be her last. Twice before she'd carried new life within her body only to have capricious nature take it away. The doctors with their elaborate equipment and probing fingers couldn't say why she'd failed, only that each time put her more and more at risk. The appointments, the tests, the mysterious whispers of the doctors amongst themselves had gradually receded, becoming a dim blur scarcely reaching her inner thoughts. The disappointment and loneliness she'd experienced after each of the last two miscarriages had nearly crushed her spirit. Only John's love and support and this last chance to try once more had given her the strength she needed to continue.

This third stillness in her belly slammed the door shut on her hopes. The implications flooded Jenny with a surging wave of desolation, grief and failure. Again her body had failed her. Now she would never experience that special bond, that extraordinary union of mother and child. The outside world receded as she spiraled in toward her private grief. Crying as John finished his shower she realized she couldn't bear the thought of telling him just yet. By the time he was done toweling she'd washed her face, taken a deep breath and covered the pain with firm resolve. She had to hide this from John, just for now. He'd been working so hard she'd have to act like everything was ok for the few days of this vacation. When they returned home she'd tell him and she knew his disappointment would rival hers, but that would have to wait. Right now all she could think about was the stilled life inside her. Grief was total and crushing, yet she must bear it. Thank goodness she hadn't yet mentioned to John that she'd been feeling the baby move. She'd kept it her secret for a while, savoring the deliciousness of the experience and the fragile intimateness between her and the baby. Her ruse was working, she thought as she showered and dressed. John didn't seem to notice the pall over her mood. Or maybe it was just that he was so excited to be on vacation with old friends.
This morning they'd driven into the mountains to hike to an old abandoned schoolhouse. They were in a region of the Appalachians not often visited, on a back road known only to locals. It was an easy half mile hike that penetrated into deep forest along a path that wound through a profusion of vibrant green plant life. Loblolly pines, oaks, tupelos, and the monarchs of the forest, giant yellow poplars that reached hundreds of feet toward the sky. Silent pillars of majesty, the great poplars supported a canopy above that filtered the sunlight in the most astonishing shades of green, but Jenny wasn't paying attention. Beds of wildflowers, trillium, the tiny white flowers of bloodroot, dwarf iris, and birds-eye violet filled the forest floor, while leafy forest duff lined the path, all unseen by Jenny. John and their friends were chattering and catching up on news, but Jenny was in another world, a world of numbness, great reaches of emptiness and lonely pain. With each step she hoped for a sign of life in her round belly. Nothing. Barrenness lay in her like a vast and empty horizon.

She managed to smile and nod at the conversation, even grabbed her camera and clicked off a few pictures, but her thoughts were centered on the stillness within. The silence she felt inside was so overpowering she was numb. The knowledge this had been her last chance to have a baby echoed in her thoughts; a silent bell tolling.

As the path led them out of the forest the old schoolhouse came into view. After marveling at the huge hand-cut timbers that made up the thick walls Jenny's eyes were drawn to a rocky, shaded clearing directly in front of the two hundred year old building. As John and their friends went into the schoolhouse, voices muffled by the thick wooden beams, Jenny opened the rusty gate and stepped into the morning stillness of the clearing.
As the gate creaked shut she realized this was an old graveyard.
"Who would put a graveyard so close to a school?" she wondered. An overgrown pathway led past a number of laboriously handcarved old headstones that sat in uneven rows. Years of frost and thaw had leaned and tilted them at crazy angles. Dappled sunlight illuminated the stones while it warmed Jenny's shoulders, sunlight that brought into legible relief faded inscriptions nearly erased by silent years of weathering. Stepping gingerly among the stones, Jenny tried to read the names. It was an old cemetery, she noticed. Many of the dates were from the early 1800's. With a shudder she began to see the significance of the carvings. The dates of birth and the dates of death were but a few days apart. "Oh my God!" she thought, "This is a graveyard of infants!" Jenny spun in horror. Everywhere she looked the dates leapt out at her. Here was an infant dead at five days. Here, one dead at two weeks. Another at only three days. At her feet an infant who lived only one day. The dreadfulness of the scene froze her blood. A graveyard of infants, she thought, how impossibly horrible. Who would create such a gathering? A rush of empathy for the unnamed mothers made Jenny faint with sadness. This was a place of devastating grief. Crushed with a weight of sadness and compassion Jenny sank to the ground while the flood of emotion filled her eyes with tears. Her hand grasped the stone at her feet for support. Like a broken tooth it jutted from the ground, leaning dangerously. It was rough and cold to her touch and the words were faint from years of erosion, but she could read them through her tear-blurred eyes:

"Marie"
B-April 3, 1838
D-April 4, 1838.
"Blessed with one day on this Earth".

Jenny felt something as her fingers touched the headstone, something wonderful yet sad. She was filled with a sense of motherness, a primeval bond of love she knew was missing in her life. It was so deep and so intimate, such a haunting upwelling of emotion, she burst into tears once again. There was a compelling feeling of need along with a devastating sense of loss emanating from the little grave. She felt a question for which she had no answer. It was as if she'd been asked to give something, a reaching out to her from the past. Jenny had no idea how to respond to such a feeling, how to give whatever it was that was asked of her.
Overcome with anguish, Jenny wasn't aware of John's presence until he touched her shoulder. As he helped her stand and brushed the tears from her cheeks the emotion gradually faded like a wave falling back into the sea.
Leaving the cemetery with John's arm around her was a relief yet Jenny was awash with the same bottomless sensation of grief she'd felt this morning. Trying to help, concerned at her crying, John was at a loss. She barely heard his words. Their friends hovering about merely served to fluster Jenny further. Drying her eyes and containing her turbulent emotions she took a deep breath and indicated she was ready to go. As she walked, Jenny tried to get a grip on herself but the cascade of emotion was overwhelming. First the frightening stillness of her baby this morning, the concept of never being a mother, and now this bone-deep torrent of sensation in a cemetery for infants! It was just too much.
She knew though, she had to be strong. Nothing could change what was. Blinking her eyes she stood straight and held John's hand for the walk back. The winding path entered the trees just behind the old schoolhouse. There it crossed a small creek over an old moss-covered log bridge that connected the two banks. Sunlight struggled to find its way to the forest floor through the profusion of brilliant green leaves that filled the branches while red squirrels chirped indignation at the trespassers in their forest. As she crossed the bridge Jenny turned to look back. Through the edge of the forest she could see the rear of the old schoolhouse and just past it the cemetery illuminated in the sunshine. Jenny's eyes were drawn to the modest stream where she saw dappled shadows dancing above the water. Watching the light glitter off the stream, she saw something astonishing. A shimmering, insubstantial mist coalesced in place, hovering above the water just below the overhanging branches. It was formless, yet it was definitely there. Impulsively she raised the digital camera she was carrying and snapped a shot. The word "ghost" flickered through Jenny's mind, but it was her feelings that were overpowering her. The same wonderful sense of motherness, the same sense of great need that she had felt while in the cemetery flooded her once again. As she watched the bright glowing shape she became aware, like a parched flower aware of the first drops of rain, she was being asked her permission. The same question, the same feeling of need she'd felt when her hand rested on the gravestone, but so much clearer now. "Yes, of course!" she thought, without hesitation and without knowing just what she'd given permission for. She only knew her intuition was in charge and guiding her in this moment. As she continued to stare, the glow faded. A flood of deep satisfaction filled her, a tidal wave of fulfillment.

Turning away to the gentle pull of John's hand on her arm, she felt the first kick. Jenny shuddered with pure, soul-filling awe. An ancient incomprehensible magic roared through her body. Through a miracle of motherhood's longing the ill-fated infant lying for so many years under the cold stone marker had received a new chance at life. Quickening had returned to her womb.

Eyes bursting with tears now of joy, she raised the camera to show John. She could barely get the words out.
"Look John, look! It's her!"
Blankly he stared at the camera's display at a loss to understand Jenny's excitement. All John could see in the image was a patch of reflected light above the stream. She pressed the "save" button on the camera. How could she ever explain it? Tell him it was the image of a ghost? No, she thought, not a ghost. Not that. This was the first baby picture of little Marie.