Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN WE BECAME PARENTS
bears was only twenty-three years old when we were married, and he was not much interested in babies. He wanted to be able to take me round with him when he itinerated.
At the end of our first year, I knew that God was going to give us a child, and I broke the news with a bit of inner perturbation—would
John be vexed? But I had many surprises coming to me from this same "Daddy." He was delighted! A radiant light beamed on his face, and he cried out: "Great news! I hope it's a boy. Then when the Chinese ask me: "Yang Muh-szu, yu-muyu er-tzu, ma?' I'll be able to answer, "Yu ih-ko; yu ih-ko hsiao tu-shu-ti.'" (Pastor Kuhn, have you any children? Yes, one—a small schoolboy.) But I did not want John to get his heart set on a boy, lest it turn out to be a 'girl! Sol flashed back: "Yes, but what if you have to answer:
'It's a small cook-rice-to-eat one'?"' (Hsiao chu-fan-ch'ih-tih.) "Oh, that will be all right too,"" answered the thrilled and happy Daddy-in-prospect. ""But where is the baby to be born?
The nearest hospital is Kunming. Are you going all that long way back? It will be only a year since we left there! I don't like to go trotting back to the capital city so soon. It would take a big scoop out of our time.
| "That's what I think, too," I replied. "I've been thinking of Miss Ling, at Tsuhsiung. She nursed me through dysentery, remember? I happen to know that she is a faiderte with lots of experience, trained by Dr. Mary Stone of Bethel Mission in Shanghai. She'd be capable, I'm sure!"'
« "The very one!"
So it was arranged. "je. who had now become skilled in Chinese writing, carried on the correspondence with Miss John and I had no idea we were doing anything hazardous.
That a woman expecting her first baby needs more medical
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WHEN WE BECAME PARENTS
check-ups than others had never occurred to us. Mails were overland and slow. There was no air mail to those parts. So it was a long, long time before we learned how anxious some of the older
'women in the Mission were that I had not seen a doctor, did not plan to sce one, and was trusting everything to a Chinese nurse!
By that time it was too late to get me out to a hospital, so they -did what remained to do. They prayed hard for us! And I came through wonderfully.
It was March, 1931 when Miss Ling arrived. And already we had junior workers. Ernest Mansfield and Will Allen had been studying Chinese under John's tutoring for some months by that time. They were two young bachelors, full of devotion to the Lord, but also blessed with a sense of humour which helped us fit in to one another. (Ernest was Australian, Will was English, born in China, and cducated at our C.I.M. School at Chefoo.)
Miss Ling was a slight, small young woman with a businesslike manner. She had a book on obstetrics with her, and showed me the gruesome pictures in it of unnatural presentations and instrument cascs. I wished she had not—they haunted me! Now
I knew what was possible, and I shuddered. But she was very casual.
"Oh, don't worry. I've delivered each of these special cases, and all by myself too! It is experience that counts. Now you will probably have long labour at your age (29). Walk! Get out and exercise those muscles, limber them up."
Sensitive to grinning Chinese with knowing looks, I hunted for a walk where I resorted every morning, walking back and forth, praying or studying Chinese for several hours at a time.
Much did I pray for the little "'boy-student"' or "girl-cook" who was coming to us. I had been reading a book in which the author said: "But Elspeth was God's child alway."? I liked that. So I yong it for our first born, "May he or she be God's child ways!"
When the time came Miss Ling had everything prepared in our own big, airy bedroom on the second floor. She was very efficient, but as the first pains made me catch my breath and wince, she said, "Oh, that's nothing! They'll get much worse than that!"
1 Sentimental Tommy, by James Barrie.
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It was my dear husband who was my pillar of strength at the — trying hour.
At 11.40 p.m., April 10, 1931, a thin wail pierced the lamp-lit room and Kathryn Ann Kuhn had made her appearance in this old worldy As soon as baby was taken away by nurse to be bathed, John knelt and, taking my hand, thanked our dear Lord for the merciful delivery, and for our little daughter. ""And Lord," he prayed,
"we give her back to Thee. We lay no claim to her. We want her to be Thine and serve Thee all her life."
I was awakened the next morning by a call from baby's alcove. Her window opened close to Ernest Mansficld's. It was John's voice. He had been waiting to see if Ernest was awake, and as soon as he discerned movement, he called out
"Ernest!"
From my bed I could see Ernest's face come to the window.
Then John held up his arms with something cradled in them.
"It's born!" he answered in ecstasy, "It's a girl! I'll bring it over for you to see."
"Oh, don't bother, she might catch cold," called back Ernest.
"T'll come over to your place. I'll call Will too."
I was smiling at my baits boyishness. No new toy had ever caught his boyhood's fancy and swung him off his feet like that little girlie. I could see her face was still red and wrinkled, and wondered how the two bachelors were going to salve their consciences and yet please their senior missionary !
Ernest, always kind and sympathetic, had done some successful thinking on his way up the stairs. "Oh, isn't she a dear!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. That did it. Daddy beamed. Enthusiasm was all he needed; the reasons for it were not important,
Then John turned expectantly to Will.
"They say she looks like me," he suggested hopefully. Will's honesty was knocked off balance. He gave a quick laugh. "Oh come now, John, you really . . ." But sympathetic Ernest had, been bending over baby. He straightened up and said, "Yes, I think she does, John. The shape of her head is yours, round with a square jaw. Isobel's head is long and thin, and the jaw almost pointed, Yes, that jaw declares her a Kuhn!"
"You really think so, do you?" complacently murmured
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WHEN WE BECAME PARENTS
Daddy. He was sublimely happy and the bachelors' visit had been a great success.
Kathy's redness faded soon, of course, and the wrinkles smoothed out, with little cheeks of apple-blossom velvet. She had had from the first beautiful black curly eyelashes, and when the time came that she began to laugh, her hazel eyes sparkled like topaz. Charm is a thing difficult to describe, but Mummy somehow thought that she was going to have that when she grew up.
It is not Oriental custom to show a baby to visitors during the first month. In fact, among the Chinese peasants of our parts and among the Lisu too, even the mother was not available to friends for the first four weeks. But Daddy burst all such bounds. Our wonderful baby was the first topic of conversation, and sleeping or no, she must be produced for every visitor. ile we were discussing a Chinese name for our baby one morning, someone was playing the gramophone: "Grace that is greater than all our sins."' As the chorus floated up to us, "Grace, grace, God's grace .
. ." both of us, almost simultaneously, exclaimed: "There it is, let's call her Hong-En (Vast-Grace) in memory of God's goodness to us."
She was dedicated to God in the chapel at Tali at the end of the thirty days. It happened that the country pastor, Mr. Li, had a baby girl named Heo-En (Great-Grace) also one month old. So the Chinese and American babies were dedicated at the same time, we parents also standing up together. And of course we gave a feast to the Chinese to celebrate our little girl's one-month birthday.
Twelve years passed before Daddy had a repetition of the joy of fatherhood. It is true we once hoped to have a second child who would be a playmate for Kathy. But due to over exertion during a time of stormy flood and fright, I lost that hope.
We were then in the wild canyon of the Upper Salween, and the Japanese War was in full spate. Indeed the Japanese were just across the river from us. To go out to the hospital would mean not being able to return until the war was over. One had to get a military pass from the Chinese Government to come into mountain where we lived (considered front line of battle for
ONE VISION ONLY
— a short time). They would never give such permission to a woman and baby. If I went out I must stay out. But I had just been definitely led into the canyon.
Then God worked. Miss Dorothy Burrows, one of our png lish nurses at Tali hospital, was due a vacation. She loved the tribes work and volunteered to come, taking that in lieu of her vacation. There was a Chinese guerrilla Colonel who had offered to get her a military pass and escort her in! Truly it seemed of the Lord.
But once again, with a confinement that was not ordinary (I was nearly 42 years old and conditions arose which took expert skill), I did not once see a doctor, but was very efficiently cared for by an experienced nurse. The baby chose to appear on Sunday, August 1, 1943, just as the Lisu were leaving church. We were living at Maliping (Oak Flat Village) and many from surrounding villages came there for the noonday service.
We had been hoping for a son, so Nurse Burrows was jubilant as she brought the little bundle to me, saying "'It is Daniel, all right!" ae ow I can answer the Chinese, 'One of each' when they ask if I have children!" said Daddy. And that was the first inkling he had given Mummy that he had felt the stigma of not having a son. For twelve years he had been politely asked aboot children, and had had to answer, "Only one, a daughter."
To see big Daddy walking round with the little golden head resting in the crook, of his arm, was a thrill I never forgot.
Daddy wanted to take his son everywhere; to watch the volley ball game at play-hour, to go for a walk over the mountainside, and when they came back there was a wild flower set into the tiny fist "for Mummy."
His name was chosen for love of the young Jewish prophet who "purposed in his heart not to defile himself." For the Chinese and Lisu to pronounce "Daniel" was simple. Their
Bibles transliterated it Da-nay-lee.