Although Teresa is tiny, she speaks forcefully, powerfully, quickly. We meet in my office because she needs a break from home. She learned of my study on older mothering through a friend over the internet. She explains that meeting and talking with people on the internet is like meeting people on a bus; you tell them everything. Her enthusiasm for mothering is evident in her expressive speech and rapid flow of ideas. Her daughter is three and is Teresa’s life and her “greatest joy.”
Teresa found out she was pregnant with Hannah after undergoing treatment for cervical cancer. At first, she was incredulous about the news. She stared at her physician and told him that he should “run the test again …” Then, “I had to figure out how to tell my poor husband. I was 38. Oh my God. What if something was going to be wrong with my baby?”
Hannah was born 23 years and 12 miscarriages after the birth of a baby boy that Teresa gave up for a life that she hoped he could have … and that she could not provide at the age of 16. For years, she lit the candles on Andrew’s birthday cake.
Teresa pauses to cry. She asks for the recorder to be turned off, briefly. She is caught in that moment between the reality of loss and the improbability and blessing of Hannah’s birth. “Hannah is not just Hannah. She is Andrew. She’s every baby I’ve ever lost.”
Each birth is a miracle; it is an event that can never be fully taken for granted. For the older mother, the notion of miracle becomes even larger. For some older mothers, pregnancy comes soon after the decision, which is often made with great deliberation. For others, the bags that signal readiness for birth have been packed and unpacked many times. Loss of baby, loss of dreams … hope and empty arms, as the womb withers. For Teresa and for several mothers in the study, the idea of pregnancy and birth is merged with the probability of impossibility and yet, with an enduring faith in the potential of a miracle. I wonder if that is what Sarah, the much – loved matriarch and mother of the Jews shared with these mothers?
We are told in Genesis that despite God’s promise that Abraham would sire children that would lead a great nation, Sarah remained barren at 90. (Genesis 17:17) We don’t know, exactly, how old Sarah was when she conceived, but the point is that by any standard, Sarah was well beyond what might remotely be considered childbearing years. For Sarah, like the mothers in my study, hers was a womb that still leapt in hope, mourned its emptiness, and acknowledged the probability of impossibility. It is no wonder that she and Abraham greeted the news of her pregnancy with skepticism, incredulity, and, yes, even laughter, just as some modern older mothers, such as Teresa, may greet the news of their improbable miracle. “Run the test again …”
The Virgin Birth, too, brought with it skepticism and this same incredulity. It couldn’t; it shouldn’t; it wasn’t. But, it was. And from the pairing of the impossible and improbable with great hope, a miracle of enormous proportions occurred. Teresa’s daughter, Hannah, returns to her the joy of a child to hold. Sarah’s son, Isaac, led nations. Jesus leads us to resurrection and new life.
It is not difficult to believe in the obvious. It takes great faith to overcome the doubt that comes with what seems improbable, impossible, and beyond the reach of humanly reasoned expectation. Faith in the new life that comes with the birth, death and resurrection of our Lord and that abides in spite of the barrenness of the human spirit is like the commitment of hope that the barren woman gives to her womb. From such, can come great gifts—a miracle, in fact.
