TRAD: Chapter 32

The ride—or caravan, with everyone in the family making their way to the hospital, was tense. I sat in the back of Noah’s van, his wife Lauren in the front seat. They’d left their kids with Lauren’s parents, but I wished they were there to distract me on the drive. For the first thirty minutes, none of us said a word. But finally, I couldn’t handle the silence.

“What did Sarah say?” I asked again. Noah had explained it to me out in the orchard, but I couldn’t get my brain around what was happening, even though I knew this was the reason I’d come back to Wisconsin.

“Her oxygen levels are dropping,” Noah explained again. “She’s having trouble breathing. Sarah said the doctor told us we need to come now, because she signed a DNR. If she stops, they won’t intubate her to try and bring her back.”

Because of her connection with her oncologist friend, Sarah had spent the most time out of all of us siblings with our mom. She sat with her, made sure Dad ate, and was the keeper of all medical information. We knew that when she called, it would mean it was time, and we’d have to move quickly.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, leaning my head back. I didn’t want to start crying already, but my eyes were already prickling with tears. “I guess I’d been praying for a miracle. Like, I thought that if I came back…if me and Sarah came back…maybe God would save her, you know?”

“Oh, Hannah,” Noah sighed, and he sounded older than he was. “You know that’s not how this works, right? I mean, yes, we’re all praying for a miracle. I don’t think there’s been a night when I haven’t fallen asleep begging God for one. But we also have to remember that all things happen in His time. A season for everything and all that. And maybe…maybe this is her season to go. I just keep telling myself I’ll see her again someday, you know?”

I admired Noah for the conviction of his beliefs. He sounded so sure of himself, and for a moment, I wished I’d never left, simply so I could have the same comfort, the same assurance that I’d meet my mother again.

Was it possible to believe without belief?

Martha’s email pinged. I’d put it onto my phone so I had quick access while I was back in Wisconsin, but I’d mostly gotten emails from Facebook via the buy/sell/trade group and notifications from Discord, with a few more requests for interviews sprinkled in there.

I ignored them, but the new email caught my eye. It was from Ben North, a pastor and podcaster who had DM’d me about being on his pod. Before the “interview” I’d written I’d been hesitant, but now that Martha’s words were out in the open? I was considering it more.

Hi Martha,

I was wondering if you’d given any thought to my proposal. Congrats on the interview—I can’t believe the author went so easy on you. You must have made quite the impression! With all of your recent “fame,” I’d love to get you on mic and have a conversation. I know I have a lot to pick your brain about, especially after that article came out. Only thing is, I’m a little pressed for time. Are you available today to record? Due to some circumstances beyond my control, I’ve found myself without a guest and I have to drop the episode tonight. If you could slot in for a quick turnaround, I’d be grateful. All you’d need is an iPhone and I could handle the rest. Just say the time, and I’ll be there.

In His Hands,

Ben North

Ben North was what the critics on my side of the internet called a “Theobro,” that is, a subset of young male pastors online with a particular mission. They were mostly Protestant, largely Evangelical, and had a wide reach both on the internet and off. They had ties to Christian Nationalism, which I didn’t love, but that was part of the whole trad wife thing. What was a submissive woman without a man? Having a woman on his podcast was rare, and I was honored Ben had sought me out and wanted to talk, that he valued my opinion.

My emotions swung wildly from one extreme to the other. On one hand, I was on the way to the hospital, probably to say goodbye to my mother. Yes, we had a complicated relationship, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have feelings about the entire situation. And on the other hand, I’d been trying to nail down this opportunity with Ben for the past couple of months.

We’d gone back and forth, me not committing and him gently pushing me. Then, when I told him I’d do it, he had said he’d already booked a guest for this week’s episode, so I told him to reach back out when he needed someone else. Of course the stars were aligning at the exact wrong time.

Ben North asked me to be on his podcast, I texted Lottie. I’m on the way to the hospital to see my mom and he wants me to do it today.

!!! She texted back. But I get your dilemma. What are you going to do?

It would be so great for me to be on. The exposure for my brand would be incredible! But the timing couldn’t be worse. I’m conflicted.

If anyone can find a way to multitask it, it’s you.

I stared at the message. Surely I didn’t have time today. My mother was gravely ill, and I should be focusing on her, preparing myself for the eventuality she was going to pass on today, probably. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything except my family. But then I thought about the visitor restrictions.

Were they going to let us all in there at once? It was most likely they would let us in a couple at a time to say goodbye, I figured. And then, it would be a waiting game. If I got in first, said my goodbyes, then perhaps I could go back to the van and have the conversation. That way, Noah or Sarah could find me easily, and I’d still get to be on Ben’s podcast.

Ben, I typed.

I’m moving some stuff around and would love to be on the podcast. Let me know the best way to get in touch with you.

Blessings,

Martha

My mind swam with logistics. Was there a way I could disguise my voice? Was that a thing that existed? I’d seen them on those true crime documentaries, but did people use them for situations like mine? Would it be more suspicious to ask Ben if such a thing existed? Would anyone I know listen to the podcast anyway?

I decided my being found out via voice recognition wasn’t an imminent risk, not one that outweighed the benefit of going on the podcast, and pulled myself back into the present, back to the hospital.

The waiting room overflowed with family members, and when I found Sarah, my suspicions about how everything was going to work were confirmed. We were going to go in to see Mom in pairs, from oldest to youngest. I let out a sigh of relief. My plan was going to work.

“Do you mind if I wait in the van?” I asked Noah, who sat down next to Sarah and started chatting quietly. It was lucky there was no one else waiting—my family took up the entire room, filling the hard plastic chairs, everyone talking in hushed tones. “I have some work stuff to do and I’m getting a headache from the overhead lights in the waiting room. Will you come get me when it’s my turn?”

Noah gave me a strange look. “What? Why?”

“I need to go get some work done while we wait and I don’t want to bother anyone here. Plus, there’s not a ton of room in here.”

“Hannah, our mother is literally dying and you’re thinking about…work? Surely your boss can wait. He knows what’s going on, right? If not, he’s a jerk.”

That was strong language coming from Noah. Maybe it hadn’t been such a genius idea after all.

“I’m just…you know, this is all so much for me. Being back, and Mom, and…I think I need a breather for a minute. There are so many people in here and I’m trying to process my thoughts….”

“You just got here,” Sarah said, lifting an eyebrow. “And you already need a break? I feel like you’re not telling me something.”

Damn it. Sarah could always read me better than anyone; I’d forgotten how good her sisterly intuition was. These weren’t my New York friends who I could fool with the right words and some sad eyes.

“We’re all handling this in different ways. I know what I need right now. Can I just have the keys, please?”

Noah and Sarah exchanged a look, but he dug into his pocket and tossed them to me. My shoulders sagged with relief, even though I didn’t feel awesome about lying to people on our mother’s deathbed. But I had to get on this podcast.

Once I got out to the van and got settled, I called Ben. He was relieved to hear from me, and we ended up talking for almost two hours. It was a great way to take my mind off the present. We covered the declining birthrate, Biblical womanhood, and how the influence of feminism in modern times was chipping away at the family structure. Time flew by, and before I knew it, Noah was tapping on the window.

“It’s our turn, Han.”

Noah gripped my hand as we walked into the room. Someone had dimmed the lights, and a nurse was there, adjusting some tubing on Mom’s arm. The beeping from the machines made for an eerie atmosphere. The nurse came over and spoke in a soft voice.

“She’s slipping away, so if there’s anything you need to say, now’s the time. I’ll give you two some space. Come get me when you’re done so I can bring your dad back in. We’ll want him there for the end.”

I gestured at Noah, and he sat down next to the bed, holding her hand. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but when he got up, tears were running down his cheeks. It was a display of masculine emotion I wouldn’t have imagined from him; always the tough guy who never cried, even when he broke his leg running on the tin overhang of the heifer pasture or stepped on a rusty nail. I didn’t know what his relationship with Mom had been like, but I hugged him tight, trying to put off the inevitable.

I sank into the chair at her bedside, watching the lines on the monitor go up and down, the beeps steady. What did I even say to someone who had such a complicated hold on my life? Someone who had caused me pain and trauma, but someone who I also loved very deeply. Someone who I had wanted to emulate, and then wanted to be nothing like.

I took a deep breath and took her frail hand in mine. It was wrinkled, like an old woman, which I guess she was. “Hi, Momma.” My voice was shaking, but it didn’t matter. “There are a lot of things I’d like to say to you, but I don’t know if I can. If I can get them all out in a way that makes sense. And I don’t know if I’m doing this for you, or if it’s all for my benefit.”

I could feel my eyes prickling with tears. “But I do know that I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without you. And that’s the good and the bad, my past and my present, all mixed up together. To try and sort it all out, to unravel it, would take more time than I have left on this earth. I want to let you know I forgive you, even if you’re not able to speak for yourself. And I love you, and I hope if nothing else, you know that.”

I kissed her cheek, and Noah hugged me. The nurse went out to the waiting room and brought my dad in. She glanced around. “I shouldn’t do this, but I know you have a big family, and sometimes patients like your mom feel more comfortable letting go when they know everyone is all together. If you round up all of your brothers and sisters, I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I knew this was what Mom was waiting for. Noah went and packed everyone into the small room, from my siblings to their spouses to some of the older grandchildren who tagged along. I’d never felt closer, more connected to my family than in that moment. Sarah rested her head on my shoulder as we made room. Hands gripped hands, arms around shoulders, and a complete sense of peace.

Someone, maybe Abby (she always had a beautiful voice), started singing softly. “It is Well With My Soul” welled up in the room, and the tears that threatened to fall escaped down my cheek. I hadn’t heard the song in years, but I remembered every word. The history of the song, which I had learned as a child, came rushing back to me. The hymnist, Horatio Stafford, had written it after the tragic death of his children. They died crossing the Atlantic by ship, and only his wife survived. Stricken by grief, Stafford wrote the haunting hymn as he passed by the spot where their vessel sank beneath the waves. If he could have peace during a time of unspeakable loss, I could find the strength here, with the rest of my family.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

I felt the words reverberating in my soul. I didn’t know what I believed. A week ago, I’d have said I was fully deconstructed from the type of religion that had hung over me like a dark cloud in my childhood. Now, I wasn’t ready to dive back into it all, but I couldn’t deny there was something spiritual happening in that room.

Dad sat holding Mom’s hand, and as we sang the final chorus, I saw the life go out of her. The notes hung in the air, and then there was nothing left but silence, punctuated with sobs every now and then.

Sarah took me into her arms as tears streamed down her face. The machines beeped. The nurse came in and verified what we all knew.

She was gone.