An Expected End

By Marietta Hummons

An Expected End is a story of disappointment, despair, hope, and fulfillment. Nia and Nelson Taylor are a well-to-do couple who had experienced everything that they meticulously planned for their lives, except the one thing that meant the most to them-a family. They struggled for years with disappointments, loss, and grief as they were unable to achieve their goal of starting a family. After giving up hope on the possibility of achieving this goal in the way they had planned, through their faith and perseverance, they found that even the best and well-thought-out plans are often derailed by God's divine plan for one's life. In yielding to God's plan for their lives, they found that there was not only fulfillment, but also hope and a future that they could not have planned or imagined. This story leaves the reader motivated to pursue their dreams and continue believing that anything is possible when we yield our plans to the plan that God has for us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640034044

Book preview

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An Expected End

Marietta Hummons

ISBN 978-1-64003-403-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64003-404-4 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 Marietta Hummons

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Chapter 1

The Loss

As she lay in the hospital room, Nia felt her dreams slipping away, feeling as though she would never be a mother. All hopes were now gone of ever seeing those dreams come true. It will be okay, she kept hearing the voices say. However, deep in her heart, as she sobbed into the stiff white pillow on the hospital bed, she knew it would not be okay. Not only would it not be okay, now barren, it was no longer even within the realm of possibility. The steamy wet tears ran down her face, saturating the pillow, the unattractive cotton hospital gown that she was wearing, and the bedsheets. As quickly as she wiped them off, they reappeared with even more emotion, more painful than the previous. She was heartbroken. The darkness in the room couldn’t even hide the hurt, the pain, and the brokenness that she felt in her heart could never be repaired. As she finally dozed off to sleep, in walked the burly and seemingly uncaring nurse. Honey, it’s time to take your medicine, she reported. This will help with the pain and help you sleep. She placed the cup of water on the tray table and a tiny white cup with two small oval pills. There was nothing that she could possibly have in her basket of pain-killing, sleep-promoting meds that could take away the pain in her heart or take away the emptiness that she felt in her soul. She had not only lost the very life that was growing in her womb, but she’d lost even the possibility that there would ever be another opportunity for her to experience every little girl’s dream, every woman’s reality, the end that she had always expected. She had lost her child, for the third time. The tears began to flow again as quickly as she wiped them away. This was the longest time that she had carried her baby before miscarrying, so this time seemed even more painful. She felt mentally and emotionally exhausted. She took the pills and waited as the nurse filled the needle with the medication that she had prepared for the injection. As the injection penetrated her arm, she began to drift off again into a deep sleep, not caring at the time if she ever opened her eyes again. Turning over in bed, she heard the sound of the nurse shuffling her feet as she walked out of the room. Feeling like she had no life, if unable to give life, she closed her eyes, gave in to the drowsiness, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Nia was awakened by housekeeping staff, medical assistants, and nurses making their rounds in the hospital, going from bed to bed delivering medication, delivering and picking up meal trays, and assisting patients with personal care, bathing, and some with preparing to be discharged. Nia’s room was on the maternity ward, so she could also hear the distant sounds of babies crying in the hallways and in the adjacent rooms. As she listened to the sounds of babies and families being reunited with mothers who had just given birth, her heart was filled with emotion, and the tears welled up in her eyes once again. She turned facing the wall and tried to tune out the sounds and dismiss the thoughts of the happiness that she sensed in the other rooms. She didn’t have anything to celebrate and wasn’t in the mood to share in the happiness and celebrations of others, not today. An older, slim, energetic nurse with dark-brown hair bounced in her room just as she turned away from the door, attempting to tune out the painful sounds. She was cheerful and appeared to be making an effort to lift Nia’s spirits. The nurse asked her to turn over and prepare to sit up on the side of the bed. After the surgery, the doctor wanted her to get out of bed and to walk down the hallway daily, making sure that she was able to walk on her own before she would be discharged. She slowly sat up, wiping away her tears again, slipped her feet into the hospital slippers that were provided, and stood at the side of the bed momentarily before walking with the nurse toward the hallway door. The nurse paused as she observed her countenance and asked, Honey, are you okay? Nia nodded as she continued toward the door. Being okay was relative at best, and this was a question that she couldn’t possibly answer in a way that this nurse could truly understand. She therefore continued putting one foot in front of the other, heading toward the door with the nurse holding on to her arm. As much as she did not want to leave the room to walk down the long, cold hallway filled with new mothers, newborn infants, and a host of excited family members visiting, she wanted even more to be discharged from the hospital to return home to the comfort of her own bedroom, to cry on her own pillow, so she forced a smile at the nurse as she walked. She walked slowly down the hallway struggling to make it to the end and back, feeling drained and as though her legs were filled with lead. She was still in quite a bit of pain, mainly because they were gradually decreasing the pain meds in preparation for her discharge, and in hopes of avoiding her long-term addiction to opioids. Though she would still need something for pain, they would be discharging her with a medication that was not as addictive as the morphine that she was receiving in the hospital. As she walked down the hallway, she passed by the infant nursery window and saw new parents beaming with pride as they peered through the glass at the pink and blue infant beds at their new baby girl or baby boy. One couple was ecstatic over the boy-and-girl twins that the young wife had just given birth to. Nia forced a smile at them as she walked past. Several times, nurses passed Nia in the hallway as they were wheeling a new infant down the hallway in an infant carrier past her in route to a new mother’s hospital room. It took everything in her to make it to the end of the hallway. The pain in her abdomen near the four-inch incision where the hysterectomy was done was nothing in comparison to the pain that she felt in her heart each time she passed another infant or saw another new mother or father embracing their newborn infant. For obvious reasons, she decided to take an alternate route to return to her room. Although the walk was a difficult one, she opted to go around the corner to the end of the hallway and return by way of the opposite corridor to avoid passing the nursery again. It was a much longer route and much more difficult for her as her legs ached, but it was a much less emotionally painful one.

When she returned to her room, she made a stop in the bathroom prior to getting back into the bed. She was glad to finally have the catheter removed, and as painful as it was, she made her way to the commode, absolutely not wanting to use the bedpan. She had lost a child, but felt like it would be a loss of dignity as well to have to use a bedpan and have someone empty her bodily fluids. She slowly returned to her bed, pulling the covers back as she eased her way back in. As she sat up in bed with her head slightly elevated, she turned on the television, attempting to divert her attention from her dismal situation.

Later that evening, she was served another bland, unappealing meal for dinner. Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, beets, a dinner roll, black coffee, and white 2 percent milk. The dessert was lemon sorbet with a few slices of yellow cling peaches. She picked at it, but it was quite unpalatable and tasteless, as hospital food typically was. Also, she did not have much of an appetite, so anything that they prepared would probably have been unappealing to her. Midway through dinner, Nelson arrived to visit her. This was his third visit of the day. He typically came by several times a day in between appointments and court appearances. He walked in dressed in a gray suit with a soft-blue button-down collar shirt and a blue-and-gray paisley tie. He entered the room—flowers in hand as usual, kissed her on her forehead, and flashed a pleasant smile as he placed the flowers on her bedside table. He was clearly striving to remain the shoulder that she could lean on, although he was feeling pretty broken himself and was struggling to hold it together as well. He sat and talked to her for quite a while, talking about his day and listening to whatever she was willing to share about hers. She appeared exhausted after having taken her evening meds and was literally falling asleep as he talked. She appreciated the fact that he had been there for her and had spent the past few nights sleeping on a very uncomfortable leather cot in order to be by her side. He had offered to stay overnight with her again, but preferring to be alone, she encouraged him to go home to get a good-night sleep in his own bed. Reluctantly, he agreed, hating to leave her alone knowing how difficult all this had been for her, but needing some alone time as well to mentally prepare for her coming home the following day. Complying with her wishes, he sat on the side of her bed, gently embracing her and whispering in her ear how much he loved her before pulling the covers up on her as he watched her drift off to sleep. Once she was asleep, he slipped out of the room and walked down the same hallway that she had recently walked, passing the infant nursery and the few lingering family members who were leaving the hospital as visiting hours were ending. Heartbroken, he struggled to hold back the tears as he too felt the pain of their tremendous loss. He headed down the stairs rather than the elevator so that other visitors leaving at the same time would not see the tears in his eyes. He too was broken. He took the long route home, hoping the drive would help him process the disappointments and pain of the past few days. When he arrived home, he walked into the empty house feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He decided not to answer the many voice messages that were displayed on the blinking answering machine, but rather headed to their bedroom and turned in for the night.

Hours later as she was sleeping soundly, having survived yet another painfully disappointing day, Nia was awakened by the sound of one of the nursing assistants opening the door and coming in to retrieve her dinner tray. Nia glanced up at her as she picked up the tray, refilled the water pitcher, dimmed the lights, and exited the room. She then turned over and found herself drifting off to sleep again. The medication had numbed the pain and propelled her into a lethargic state, and needful sleep.

As the sun peeked through the barely opened curtains the following day, and the thick clouds were gradually separating, she glanced out at the imminent brightness and the start of a new day. In her mind, she wanted to pretend that she was in another place, at another time, and that her painful reality wasn’t real at all, but rather a depressing illusion that couldn’t possibly be her story. For this was not the story that she had imagined, nor was it in any of the chapters of her life in the way that she had always dreamed.

Another nurse entered the room, this time a young perky woman with a smile on her face, silver streaks in her hair, and a dingy beige-colored apron, with a tray of unappealing yet colorful breakfast items. There were blueberry multigrain bagels, cream cheese, a fruit salad, a poached egg, oatmeal, and more 2 percent milk. This was apparently what the doctor ordered, and though it appeared distasteful, she agreed it would be needed in order for her to regain her strength to be discharged from the hospital. She only wished that there were something that they could prepare that could nourish her broken heart and restore her soul from the brokenness she had experienced as a result of her devastating loss.

Shortly after she finished her breakfast, the doctor arrived. He asked her how she was feeling, checked her incision, and made notes on her chart. He then agreed with the nurse’s assessment that she was ready to be discharged. As she packed her things, and signed the discharge papers, she listened attentively to the instructions given by the doctor. Although he encouraged her to consider filling the prescription for fluoxetine, a medication for depression, Nia declined, believing that she could make it through without the assistance of medication. She had taken this medication after a previous miscarriage and did not like the feeling of drowsiness, dizziness, and insomnia that she experienced from taking it. She preferred to rely on her faith, and time, to allow the healing of both her physical and emotional wounds. The doctor gave her the prescription anyway, should she change her mind. He wished her well and reminded her to make a follow-up appointment in two weeks. She leaned over, put on her slippers, and waited for Nelson to arrive. When he arrived, he helped her to the wheelchair that hospital policy required was used for discharge. He then asked the nurse to review the instructions with him for Nia’s care once she was home. Although the doctor had gone over the information with Nia, understanding his concern, the nurse reviewed it again with Nelson. He then left Nia in the room waiting for the hospital transport staff to bring her down to the car while he took the prescriptions that had been written to have them filled at the hospital pharmacy. She had been prescribed several pain pills, medication to help with sleeping, and something for anxiety and depression, although she was determined not to take the anxiety medication. She had also lost a substantial amount of blood, had been given a blood transfusion, and prescribed iron supplements as well. As Nia sat in the wheelchair that had been provided, she was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. When the young man from the hospital transport department arrived to retrieve her, he transported her down to the front of the hospital to be picked up by Nelson, who had already headed down to the parking garage to retrieve the car. Nia was thankful to be going home.

Chapter 2

Home

As they approached the hospital lobby, she could see through the large glass window that he was waiting outside by the car. The young man transporting her wheeled her out to the curb where Nelson was standing. He stood nervously with a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses, knowing that after the third time, this repeat performance must be met with exactly the right reception, the right words, the right amount of empathy—yet void of sympathy, for the drive home. She greeted him with a smile, somehow sensing that he was doing his very best to be supportive of her in her fragile state. As he loaded her bags—and the beautiful cards, flowers, and plants that she had received—into the car and assisted her as she slid into the front seat, they glanced at each other momentarily. They were lost for words, but shared the same sense of brokenness and emptiness. He kissed her on the cheek, they latched their seatbelts, and he started the engine and drove away. She turned and glanced back at the hospital as he drove, remembering the previous time, and the time before that, having left the hospital with an empty car seat, heading back home, yet again. Only this time, they would not be able to try again. This was the last chance, and the last journey of this kind that they would be taking together. The hysterectomy that she had just endured removed the possibility of her conceiving and experiencing motherhood, ever. The thought of this was even more painful than the four-inch incision that the surgeon had made during the surgical procedure. Again, the tears welled up in her eyes as she turned away from him, facing the window. She found it more difficult this time to appear strong and in control of her emotions. This somehow was the most difficult drive of them all. Nelson, left speechless and feeling the emptiness as well, simply held on to her hand for the entire drive home. As they approached their home, Nelson pulled into the driveway, parked as close as he could to the front door, and helped her out of the car and into the house. As she slowly walked past the trellises, she noticed that the rosebushes were starting to bloom early. She was trying hard to find something to smile about. Flowers usually made her smile, as she loved the beauty of nature, including the color and fragrances that fresh flowers provided. The flowerbeds were always filled with perennials, flowering annuals, and a variety of colorful flowering bushes. The pink azaleas were one of her favorites. As she entered the house, she retreated to her bedroom, pulled the blinds, and requested to be left alone. Sometimes being alone was the way that she regained her strength, regained her will to live again, to love again, and to forget the pain, the loss, and the emptiness of knowing that motherhood for her would never be as conventional as perhaps she had hoped or dreamed. Nelson kissed her softly on the cheek and pulled the door close as he walked out and back downstairs to his office. She sensed that he was in as much