Eternal Glimpse

For Terry and Larry - My Big Brothers.
Though you never saw the light of day
You're still touching our hearts in a special way
You left our lives before you came
But you'll be remembered just the same.
This one's for you.


"I don't know how to tell you this, Mrs. Jarrett...."
Betty's heart stopped. Never before had Dr. Foley called her Mrs. Jarrett. It had always been Betty. She knew what was coming wasn't good. It's never good when a grey-haired country doctor calls a twenty-three-year-old pregnant woman, whom he had delivered himself, "Mrs." Not once had he called her anything but Betty, unless it was "Bumpkin."

"I can't hear your babies' heartbeats." There, he said it.

Betty was lost for words, but the expression on her face spoke louder to Dr. Foley than even the most painful of words. It said, This can't be. It just can't be. You're a doctor and you can't let this happen. For an instant he regretted ever letting his mother talk him into medical school.

"It may be nothing." He couldn't stand looking at that face any longer. "The afterbirth could be blocking the beats. Let's wait before we jump the gun. Come in tomorrow and we'll give it another listen."

"But, Doctor..."

"Betty, now don't you worry yourself about this. It happens all the time," he lied.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." At least he called her Betty again. That settled her a little.

But the next day, there were still no heartbeats.

"What's happening?" Betty asked, tears collecting on her cheeks.

"Now listen to me, girl - you've carried those twins for eight and a half months, and I hadn't noticed one problem. Maybe their hearts are just a little weak. Come see me tomorrow and we'll try again."

It was no use, and Dr. Foley knew it. Even though this was before the time of ultrasound and high tech medicine, he knew that Betty's babies had died. He didn't know how or why, but he knew just the same. If only he knew how to tell Betty. It wouldn't be easy, but the doctor knew she was going to have to know.

"I'm afraid your babies have died," he confessed during Betty's third visit that week. He hoped that the mouthwash he had used covered up the gin he had the night before, when he decided there was no way he would wreck her dream sober. Betty and her husband Jeff had been trying for three years to have a child. And when Foley had the pleasure of telling her she was pregnant, he saw just how badly she wanted one. When he told her it was twins, he thought she was going to die from happiness. Now as he stared down into Betty's hollow, grief-stricken eyes he wished he had become a plumber instead of a damn doctor. How upset can a person get when you tell them they have a clogged drain?

"What am I supposed to do?" Betty was trying to be strong but the doctor had just crushed what heart she had left.

"Nothing. We can't risk the effect induced labor might have on you. You're just going to have to carry them to term. It will only be another couple of weeks."

Betty left Dr. Foley's office a broken woman. She had suspected the deaths ever since he had called her Mrs. Jarrett, but even then there was a little hope; no matter how small it was, it was still there. Now she had none at all. How was she going to tell Jeff? Wouldn't he blame her? Everyone had told her to take it easy. But no, she had to be so damn strong. Even when she was exhausted, she pushed herself to continue. She wanted to show everybody how tough she was. But now she felt like the weakest person on earth.

The birth of the twins was meant to be so much more than adding a couple new editions to Betty's family. She had thought that if Jeff saw the pain she went through to bring him two beautiful children, he would open up to her and be more loving. Jeff hardly ever touched her, unless they were having intercourse, and he never told her that he loved her. But she believed that somewhere deep down in his heart, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he did. At least she hoped so. She knew that she loved him. And losing the twins made her fell like she had failed him.

Betty waited until Jeff had eaten the dinner she made for him and sat in front of the TV before she told him, "Dr. Foley told me that the twins are dead."

He looked at her for a moment, but she couldn't read any emotion in his face, then he turned back towards the television. Gunsmoke played on, as Matt Dillon cornered the bad guys. Finally, a commercial came on and Jeff looked again at his wife. "Is he sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, I told you you were working too hard." That was all he said. The conversation was over that quickly. Deep in her heart, Betty hated him for that, but she didn't want to admit it.

It was almost a month before Betty received her first labor pain. She knew that the twins were dead, but the pain still conjured false hope. She told herself it was just wishful foolishness, but inside she wanted so much for them to be alive.

Grudgingly, Jeff got out of bed and took Betty to the hospital. The labor lasted forever. Several nurses stood around Betty and tried to comfort her. It was an awkward feeling. She never really had true emotions expressed toward her. The prime example was her father. He loved her very deeply, but never touched her. Betty assumed he was afraid that she was too delicate to hold, but she needed it. She longed for a heartfelt embrace. Marrying Jeff only continued her love at a distance.

Finally, after nine hours of labor, Betty brought forth two dead baby boys. Dr. Foley refused to let her see her stillborn children. She wanted so much to see them, just to see what she had carried around in her for nine months, to see if they had little fingers and toes. But the doctor stood firm.

"Jeff, please see them for me?"

"Okay."

Betty lay in her hospital bed thinking of her boys who she would never see. Tears ran down her face, soaking her pillow. She didn't notice her father walking into the room. He took in the scene for a moment, then went to her side. In an instant beyond explanation, he left his pride behind and reached out to her. Betty weakly lifted herself as her father's arms went around her, and hers around him. All her life, she wanted him to hold her. And in the end the price for that hug was her two little sons.

"How's my baby?" he asked.

"I'm all right," she lied through tears.

The embrace lasted only 54 seconds. It was the only hug her father would ever give her.

A nurse came in to tell him that Betty needed her rest. Betty felt helplessly confused as her daddy left the room. She was so tired from the labor. Everything seemed like a dream. Her whole life felt like a dream. Unable to hold on any longer, she fell asleep.


"I couldn't do it," Jeff said two hours later when Betty woke. "I couldn't go see them."

"It's all right," she said. But it wasn't. She had needed him to see them.

Jeff sat in a chair next to the bed and dozed off for a minute or two. Betty laid awake, stiff and sore from all she had experienced earlier. A labor that was rewarded with nothing. No little human to hold close and watch grow. Nothing.

Understandable depression violently invaded Betty, laced with the malice felt toward the sound of her husband's healthy snoring. How could she have let this happen?

Betty was staring blankly through the window at the sad morning struggling to overpower the night. A new day. And when she thought her existence couldn't be any lower, she noticed something else in the window.

"Jeff..." She nudged him awake. "Do you see that?"

"Yes." That was all he could say.

On the window of the second-floor hospital room, two perfectly shaped figures lay embroidered in the glass with dew. The shapes of two babies' faces. Betty knew it was her two sons coming to say, "We love you and we're sorry we never got to meet you." Though Dr. Foley never let Betty see her physical sons, she was allowed to see their spirits.

The sun won the fight with the darkness and erased the boys from the window.
But they will always remain with Betty. The eternal glimpse of her two angels.


A year later, Jeff and Betty had a healthy living son of their own.
And I'm just sorry that I never got to see my little big brothers.