Bethan made a valiant effort to keep from grinning, but failed.
Her nervous hilarity was quelled at the sight of Emma sitting up in bed, brown eyes huge in a pale face. And who wouldn’t be frightened? Even a young girl like this one knew women died during their travails.
Tom approached the bed and stroked Emma’s hair.
Mistress Evans, Emma’s mother slapped his hand away. “Be gone with you, lout! Could you not have waited a few months, you and your lust? Now look what you’ve done to her.” She held her daughter’s hand again. “Poor baby.”
“Ease off, Mum. There were two of us doing it. And I liked it, I did.”
“I wasn’t going to say it.” Ignoring her mother’s venomous stare, Tom bent to kiss her flushed forehead. “Dear Emma. I love ye, I do.”
She nodded, and a pain came upon her. Just as quickly, she scowled at him.
Ian stuck his head in the door, much to the shock of the mother. “Maggie love, I’m going to fetch your basket and the model.” He smiled at the boy. “Don’t worry, lad. Steady as she goes.”
“Take a care for yourself, husband.”
He nodded. “Freddy, walk with me to fetch what your wife needs. We’ll bring my lute as well. Bid your love adieu.”
He smoothed the damp hair from her face. “Emma, I’ll return soon.”
She paid him no heed as he shut the door behind him.
“Let’s see how we’re getting along, shall we, Emma?”
Emma clutched the blankets, knuckles white as parchment.
“Who’s this’un?” Emma’s mom pointed to Bethan.
“I’m Bethan Owens, mistress.”
“Ah, you’re Polly’s sister.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at Maggie. “Not the touched one, I hope.”
“Of course not,” Maggie snapped.
“Aren’t ye a bit young to be doing this?”
“She may be young, but she’s already showing great promise, and as my sister’s overly busy with that daughter of hers, I’ll soon be needing a substitute.”
As if in answer, the babe within Maggie rolled over and created such a hubbub, they couldn’t help but stare. Did it have a playmate in there?
Maggie patted it. “Now then.” She turned to her mother. “Have you any almond oil?”
Her mother nodded and reached in the dresser by the bed. She handed it to Maggie.
Bethan took in every gesture, every word Maggie said, her tone of voice and confident, deliberate movements.
“Now then, Emma. I’m going to examine you to see how far your birthing passage is open. Breathe deeply. Don’t worry. I won’t take long.”
Maggie poured almond oil on one hand and lifted the girl’s night rail.
She grunted as she tried to lean over the bed. “There must be some way…ack!” She reached her arms toward Emma but could not reach her due to her bulging stomach. She cocked her head and eyed the bed. She turned sideways and leaned forward, face red with exertion. “Even if I have her get on the floor, I could not manage to reach her.” She turned to Bethan, eyebrows beetled with defeat.
Bethan couldn’t help it. She rushed to put her hand over her mouth to prevent the giggle bubbling up, but failed.
“Mistress Bethan, what is it you find so amusing?”
The baited bear Bethan had seen at the county fair seemed like a lamb compared to Maggie’s fierce demeanor.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Maggie.”
Just then, another labor pain saved Bethan from Maggie’s wrath. She rushed to Emma’s side. “Take my hand. Squeeze it. Breathe.”
Emma twisted in the bed, as if she could escape her ordeal.
Bethan’s advice came from deep inside. “Don’t fight it. Breathe, Emma. Your body is opening up for your child.”
“It’s killing me.”
“No, you’ll be fine. This pain will be over soon. Just get through this pain, that’s all.”
Emma nodded, looking Bethan in the eye, screaming as the pain crested.
“Well done, Emma.” Bethan laid a cloth on her forehead and glanced at Maggie.
“Well, I hadn’t planned on this, but obviously I’m more immense than I thought. Bethan, you must check Emma and fast before another pain comes. I will instruct you.”
Maggie handed her the almond oil and led her to the foot of the bed.
Bethan fought her rising panic. She’d anticipated helping Maggie, but now she would actually be delivering the child. Her heart beat in her throat, and she breathed deeply to put it back where it belonged.
“Apply the oil liberally on one hand. Insert two fingers. Do it quickly and don’t hesitate.”
Emma cried out.
“I’m sorry,” Bethan cried.
“Don’t apologize,” Maggie whispered. “It will just make her more fearful.”
Whatever squeamishness she might have had when thinking about such an activity vanished with Maggie’s steady, calm voice.
“Don’t hesitate. That’s right.”
“Normally the inner passage is tight and narrow. You should feel a thinning and a widening of the passage. How far apart can you hold your fingers? Remember the distance. Now, remove your hands.”
When Bethan turned to Maggie, she held her thumb and forefinger three inches apart.
Maggie nodded. “Emma, you’re progressing nicely. You’re doing very well. Your mother will give you a poached egg in broth to strengthen you.”
Bethan covered her up again and wiped her hands upon her apron.
“I’m scared,” Emma moaned.
“I know. We all must endure this, and so will you,” Maggie said.
“If you’d kept your skirts down for your worthless husband, you’d not be suffering now,” her mother hissed.
A pain slammed into Emma, and Maggie shot the mother a censorious look. “You will only speak when you’ve something nice to say.”
“Such high hopes we had for you, with your beauty, and you opened your legs for the first man who looked at you.’
“I love him, Mum.”
“You’ll soon see how sorry you’ll be.”
Maggie took Mistress Evans’ arm. “Enough. You’re here to give her comfort, not to abuse her. Keep your mouth shut, or you will step out. Do you understand?”
Emma’s mother lowered her eyes, and Bethan marveled at the absolute authority Maggie had over the situation. Could she ever do the same?
Chapter Fourteen
“Fetch the broth and egg now, Mother.” Maggie ordered.
“Aye.”
When she’d left the room, Maggie stood beside Bethan. “It’s not easy for a mother to see her daughter suffer. Oftentimes, they just need something to occupy their hands.”
Emma lay with her eyes closed. Bethan strode to the window where a cradle stood. “What a lovely cradle, Emma.”
“My Tom made it.”
“He’s a skilled carpenter. And I see you have a lovely blanket ready.”
“I sewed it myself.”
“Between the two of you, the babe will be well cared for.”
A grimace soon marred the glowing pride on Emma’s face as another pain came upon her.
Bethan approached the bed and grasped the girl’s hand. “Deep breaths, Emma. It will soon be over.”
“You lie, mistress!” She gasped.
“Your passage is stretching for your wee one with each pain, girl.” Maggie’s soothing voice served to calm Bethan as well.
She too must learn to speak with such assurance. “Try to think only of this pain, how you will breathe through it.”
Emma nodded, and Bethan wiped her sweat-drenched face.
“That’s right.” Maggie stood at the foot of the bed, hand on the small of her back.
“Maggie, why don’t you sit?”
‘No, I’m fine.”
She nodded. Just then, Emma’s mother arrived with Maggie’s basket and handed it to her. Maggie rummaged through it and held out what appeared
to be a cloth ball. Mistress Evans gave Emma a sip of broth and wiped her face with a cool rag.
“Do you remember the model I showed you? It will mean more to you now.” Maggie waddled over to the other side of the bed and held up a cloth model somewhat resembling a large walnut. “This is your womb.” There was an opening at the bottom. “See the hole in the bottom? That is your privy passage.”
She pressed the womb at the top, and the privy passage widened. “When you have a pain, the force of it widens the passage, see? And the pains increase in strength and come closer together. They will become more powerful, and the baby will emerge.” She pushed on the womb, and the babe emerged, head first, arms and legs crossed in front of its body.
Understanding lit Emma’s face, then another pain assaulted her. When it abated, she gasped. “Will it soon be over?”
Maggie laid her hand on Emma’s thin shoulder. “I won’t lie to you. The pains will increase in power, but you will find the strength.”
“I can’t do it.” Emma turned her head to the wall.
Mistress Evans took her daughter’s face in her hands. “You will bring this babe into the world, as I did you.”
Emma nodded, and she grabbed her mother’s hands as another pain bore down on her.
“Squeeze my hands, love. I’d take this pain from you and bear it myself if I could.”
After the next pain was over, Maggie told Bethan to check Emma’s progress.
With a little more confidence than before, Bethan inserted her fingers. “Oh!”
“What is it?” Maggie asked.
“It’s the head. I feel the head.” She withdrew her fingers. “Emma, I felt the baby’s head!”
“Oh God! He’s killing me.” Emma moaned as another pain crested.
“Emma, it is almost over now. You will hold your babe soon.”
A chill crept up Bethan’s neck at the sound of Emma’s animal-like groaning, rhythmic and primitive. How to help in the face of such agony?
As if she’d read her mind, Maggie put her hand on Bethan’s arm. “It seems impossible, yet it is done every day.”
“Are you frightened for your own ordeal, Maggie?”
“I would be daft if I wasn’t.” Maggie placed her hands on her stomach, took a deep breath. “But we do what we must do. Now then, Emma. It’s time to push. Your privy passage is ready, but it’s best if you have the urge.”
“The urge,” she gasped.
“Yes, you will feel as if you…”
“I can’t shit now!”
“That’s it. With the next pain, you must push from deep within your belly, Emma.”
“Oh God, I’m splitting in two.”
“Here comes another contraction, Bethan. Put a pillow behind her back, Mother.”
“Sweeting, squeeze my hand. It will be over soon.”
“Emma, when you get the urge, take a breath from deep within your belly, and push,” Bethan urged. “Every push brings your baby closer to you.”
Emma gritted her teeth.
“Breathe, Emma.” Bethan had to raise her voice above the moaning.
You breathe too, Bethan. Don’t hold your breath.
Bethan spread some oil around the opening, massaging it as she’d seen Maggie do with her sister, Polly.
Emma grunted, her face red with the effort of pushing. The head emerged and then receded.
Bethan glanced at the midwife.
“This is normal,” Maggie said.
The pains had increased in strength and duration, and the room grew silent, but for Emma’s moans. How could such a slip of a thing endure the pain for hours on end? She screamed as another pain took hold.
“Almost over, Emma. Hold your breath and push.”
This time the head did not recede. “Well done, Emma.”
No response, eyes closed. Had she fainted?
“She’s so weak,” her mother whispered.
“Give her a spoonful of broth,” Maggie urged.
But there was no time.
“Push, Emma.”
“Squeeze my hands, love.”
“I can see the baby’s hair, Emma. Push.”
Emma pushed, and Bethan felt the force of power as the baby’s shoulders emerged partway. The room filled with strength, unearthly and raw.
“Holy Sister,” Maggie intoned. “Help this mother and child.”
“Oh God,” the mother moaned. “My poor baby.”
“You are strong, Emma. One last push. A hard push,” Maggie urged.
“You must rotate the shoulders so she doesn’t tear.”
As Emma pushed, Bethan struggled to hold onto the slippery body as it slid out of Emma. Maggie handed her a linen cloth. The baby was dusky blue and not breathing.
“Here, rub him with the cloth, like this.” As Maggie did so, the babe gave out a lusty cry.
“Oh!”
“It’s a boy!” Bethan shouted.
“God be thanked! Ah, Emma, he’s perfect! Well done, my girl.”
“Wipe him off a bit and hand him to his mother. Yes,” Maggie said.
Bethan followed her instructions on cutting the cord and handed the babe to Emma.
Emma unwrapped the blanket and fingered his toes, his hands. “He came from my body,” she whispered. “How could it be? My boy.” And she rested her lips on his forehead. Dawn had lightened the room, bathing mother and child in a golden glow.
“Emma, we must deliver the afterburden,” Maggie said, interrupting Bethan’s dreamlike state.
“A few more pushes. It will be uncomfortable, but nothing like before,” Bethan urged.
In a short time, the afterburden was delivered.
“Put it in the basin, Bethan. We must examine it to make sure nothing was left in her womb. At least that much I can do,” she said dryly.
“If there are pieces missing, she will surely suffer from childbed fever. They fester inside.”
Bethan nodded.
“Look it over carefully. Be thorough, turn it over. Don’t be afraid to touch it with your hands.” The bloody mass was like a creature from the deep sea, mysterious and pungent.
“Take care, for it could make the difference between life and death.”
Bethan had mistakenly thought the challenge was over once the babe was born. She glanced at Emma.
“She’s not listening. She’s lost in the miracle of her babe.”
“Then, despite any discomfort it causes the mother, you must massage her stomach, to rid the body of the blood and shrink the matrix.”
“The matrix?” Bethan asked.
“The womb.”
Bethan blushed at her ignorance.
After the afterburden was examined and deemed healthy, Maggie held the small of her back and closed her eyes.
“Are you well, Maggie?”
“Just tired.”
“Why don’t you go and sit down in the parlor?”
“No, I would see this to the finish. It will be my last delivery for a while, besides my own.”
“Where is my Tom? Mother, will you fetch him?” Emma’s voice filled the room with joy.
Maggie waddled over to the side of the bed. “Emma, let Bethan take the babe for a moment. Grandmother, you fetch some warm water. We’ll clean you up a bit and then you can show the babe off.”
“Please hurry.”
“I promise it won’t take long.”
Bethan and Mistress Evans soon had the new mother bathed, changed, and comfortable with a poultice of lavender and seaweed on her privities.
“Mistress Evans, why don’t you get Emma something to eat, and a nice mug of ale. Tell Tom he can come in.”
Indeed, Emma’s mother looked as if a butterfly could knock her down, and no wonder.
She nodded and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you, my Emma.” Mother and daughter shared a moment of quiet intimacy. “You were very brave.”
“Indeed,” Maggie said. “One of the bravest new mothers I’ve ever seen.”
/> Emma beamed.
“You’re strong for a small lass,” Maggie added, and clutched her stomach.
“What is it?” Bethan grasped her by the elbow.
“Nothing.” Maggie waved her off. “You should know it’s very common to have these cramps in the last days.”
There was so much she didn’t know. Was she ready to take the responsibility on?
Just then, Tom rushed in, face flushed. He embraced Emma and pulled back to view his son. “Oh, he’s so small!”
He tentatively stroked the babe’s cheek with a finger, and the babe turned toward him. “He knows me,” he exclaimed. “Oh, Emma. Are you well? I heard you screaming. How I’ve hurt you.”
“No, dear Tom. And anyway, it was worth it, for we have our boy now, don’t we?”
As if in answer, the babe squawked.
Tom stepped back in alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”
Emma laughed. “I expect he’s hungry.” With an instinct old as time, she bared her breast, and the babe latched on without further ado.
“Ouch!” She squealed.
The babe flung its chubby arms out and howled.
Bethan giggled.
Maggie chuckled. “Don’t worry, lass. Your teats will toughen up.”
“Holy God!” Emma said.
“I’ll send your father in to see his first grandchild. Maggie held onto the door frame and slowly inhaled. “Where’s your mother with the ale?”
Ian wheeled over to Maggie. “Sit down at once. You’ve overtaxed yourself.”
“I told her to sit down,” Bethan said. She sent the grandparents into the room again.
Ian stood up in the chair, holding onto the arm rests, knuckles white, arms shaking. “Damn these legs,” he muttered.
Maggie sat in a chair by the fire.
“Sit down yourself, Bethan,” Ian ordered. “You’ve had quite the night.” He wheeled over to a table laden with comestibles. “Ale or tea?”
“Ale, please.”
He fetched Maggie a plate heaped with sausages, bread, and cheese, and a mug of ale.
Bethan soon dug into her own meal. She’d not realized how hungry she was until then. After she finished, she made an effort to commit the birth to her memory. She grinned. She had delivered a child.
A short time later, Maggie fell asleep, plate resting on her belly. Ian retrieved it and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think even my stubborn Maggie will admit she must now hand the reins over to you.”
Echoes of the Moon Page 8
