Special to United Methodist Insight | Nov. 20, 2024
My friend, Jan Ebert, a retired nurse from Montello, Wisconsin, told a personal story recently that she didn’t want to tell. Jan wrote, “I am stepping out of my comfort zone and hoping you will be open to my thoughts for what we all are facing… It is something I rarely talk about, but feel a strong need to do so.
Generations
1) Jan & Jon Ebert of Montello, Wisconsin with grandsons, Garret (in the middle), Miles, Nolan and Jonny. Jan is a retired registered nurse and lifelong member of Trinity United Methodist Church in Montello, Wisconsin, where she served as organist for many years.
“When I was twenty five I had two miscarriages within six months. It was one of the most difficult times in my life that has stayed with me for a lifetime. I was fortunate to have healthcare to provide the necessary care during that time. If that had not been in place, my life and subsequent pregnancies could have been jeopardized.
“As a woman, I finally understand the impact women before me have had on my life and how hard they fought for their rights. I cannot imagine not having a voice in my healthcare. This is a much broader subject than abortion. I am speaking to the rights and choices women are allowed. I am only asking you to think about what I have said.”
Jan’s story is not unique. The reproductive rights debate has brought back memories of miscarriages past for many women and the men who love them.
My colleague, Rev. Pamela Tinnin of Cloverdale, California, tells a similar story from her own life.
“Yesterday I read the news story of Nevaeh Crain, a beautiful young woman who lived in Texas. Only a teen, Nevaeh who was about six months pregnant was turned away from two Hospital Emergency Rooms. She was in extreme abdominal pain. Her agony eventually induced her to try a third ER where doctors delayed treating her pain until they called for two ultra sounds to see if the fetus still had a beating heart. Nevaeh died several hours later.
“Nevaeh’s story took me back sixty years to when I too was a teen. I had graduated from high school on June 3, 1964 and despite my parents’ disapproval, I married my high school boyfriend the evening of June 5. Later that summer I realized I was pregnant. Shortly after the wedding, my husband had been laid off. We had no money and no medical insurance. Several months passed. Our landlord was a grumpy old man, but he let us stay in our shabby little apartment. We lived on surplus food and the skimpy money Peter earned doing odd jobs. I was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help from my parents.
Family
The Rev. Pamela J. Tinnin is a retired United Church of Christ pastor, rancher, storyteller and author. She lives with her husband, Zack on a mountain ranch near Cloverdale, California. (Courtesy Photo)
“The days passed and then one night I woke up screaming. My husband crawled out of bed and turned the light on. In the room’s sudden brightness, I saw dark red blotches soaking the sheets and when I tried to stand up, more blood dripped onto the gorgeous quilt my Oklahoma grandma had sewed and sent us.
“Peter hurried to the neighboring apartment where a young couple lived with their toddler. He brought the woman back. Carol handed him keys to their old Ford and said, ‘Get her to a doctor. It’s a miscarriage.’
“Peter helped me out to the car and we headed to a hospital, the only one in the small town of Coquille, Oregon. Carol had covered the car seat with a vinyl sheet. She leaned in and holding my hand whispered the words of what I thought was a prayer. I could barely talk, just kept trembling and fighting back tears.
“At the hospital my husband went through double doors and led out two men in white who wheeled a gurney. My memories of that night are a bit blurry, but I’ve never forgotten how very kind and caring people were. An older nurse stayed with me and held my hand until the necessary procedures were finished. The doctor was young but gentle with me and spoke in a kind voice when he told me I had lost the baby. ‘You’re young,” he said, “and there will be another time. Miscarriages are usually nature’s way of correcting nature’s mistakes.’
“I spent several days and nights there. Things got better. Peter took a bus to Eugene to find work. My father came and insisted on helping me pack after convincing me to come home and wait until Peter had a job and place to live. As we packed Dad teased me, sang ‘Anchors Away’ and told me his favorite old jokes.
“The doctor was right. A bit over a year later my healthy baby girl arrived, followed in the years to come by her two brothers. My life could have easily ended that night. My three children might never have lived. Thinking of the horror that ended Nevaeh’s life I am so angry. I did not know her, but I do believe there was an excellent chance that her death wouldn’t have happened if she had received the needed medical treatment in time.
“She is not the only victim to this situation. How can we let this happen again? How can the government pass laws that deprive women of needed medical care and risk their lives? How can we allow this to go on? I remember the whispered words of Carol, a sweet neighbor lady I barely knew. ‘Don’t be afraid they’ll help you at the hospital.’”
Pamela Tinnin concluded, “Did anyone say that to Nevaeh?”
John Sumwalt is a retired United Methodist pastor and the author of “How to Preach the Miracles” He offers storytelling programs in churches and community groups.