Piecing It All Together

by Leslie Gould

  I tugged and could tell Arleta was bearing down.

  “It’s budging,” I told Delores, positioning a basin closer with my free hand.

  “Keep pulling on it.”

  I did, increasing the pressure. Arleta pushed again. The placenta shifted. I pulled even harder and it flew out, followed by a gush of blood. I maneuvered the placenta into the basin and grabbed a clean towel.

  “It’s out.” I kept my voice calm, even though I felt alarmed. “There’s a significant amount of blood.” But then I remembered that it was normal for a woman to lose a half quart or so of blood during a vaginal delivery.

  I also knew it was really hard to estimate amounts of blood.

  “Check the placenta,” Delores said, “to see if any pieces are missing. Then massage the uterus.”

  I left the phone on speaker as I cleaned up as best I could, packed a towel between Arleta’s legs, and then covered her up again.

  The placenta looked good. “It’s intact,” I said to Delores. “I don’t have much battery left. I’ll call back in a few minutes.”

  “All right,” she said.

  I pulled off my gloves, ended the call, washed up, and then reached under the covers and began massaging Arleta’s uterus, bumping against the baby as I did. After a few minutes, I checked the towel. The bleeding had slowed.

  I gave Delores another call.

  “Whew!” she said and then added, “Thank you so much.”

  “I’ll call again if I need to,” I said. “Or later on this morning.”

  It was 2:17. Surely Vernon had found Miriam and the other boy by now.

  I swaddled the baby and then helped Arleta to the bathroom and into a clean nightgown with her robe over the top. I pulled socks and then slippers over her feet. Then I wadded up the shower curtain, put down a pad, and helped her back onto the couch.

  “What would you like to eat?” I asked.

  “There’s bread and peanut butter. And grape jelly. That would be fine.” Arleta had her eyes closed again.

  When I returned with the food, I took the baby and rubbed the vernix from the little one’s skin. Then I weighed her. Eight pounds three ounces. She was alert and pink. Everything seemed textbook, or at least as much as I could remember, which had been a surprising amount. I’d retained a lot from training all those years ago,

  I put a diaper and rubber pants on the baby and then slipped her into a T-shirt and then the sleeper. I held her close for a moment, breathing in her scent. Every baby smelled unique.

  I’d forgotten the pure joy of witnessing a new life come into the world. No wonder Mom had loved her job so much.

  For a moment, my breath caught in my chest, thinking of Mom and then the babies I’d hoped to have with Ryan. I forced myself to exhale.

  Arleta was watching me as she finished the sandwich, but she didn’t smile. Nor did she seem anxious to have the baby back.

  So I continued snuggling her, fighting back tears—and not just because I should have been in the middle of my wedding night.

  It was because delivering babies was what I’d left behind when I enrolled at UCLA. I’d missed it at first, but as the years went by and my life changed so drastically, I hadn’t anymore. Until tonight.

  Car doors slammed, jerking me back to the present.

  Boots fell on the back steps and then the door swung open. A teenage boy came stomping through the house. Arleta had her eyes closed again.

  Vernon followed the boy, yelling, “Joshua, there’s no need to go to bed. We have to start the chores soon.”

  But he kept going, down the hall, his coat and boots still on.

  Joshua? “Do you have another son?” I asked Arleta.

  She shook her head.

  It appeared there hadn’t been anyone else at the house after all.

  Vernon retreated to the back porch and slammed the kitchen door shut. A minute later, he appeared without his coat or boots. “He snuck out before Miriam did. It turns out she went to find him. I sent her back with that man, the one who claimed to be Kenny Miller.” He turned toward me.

  I shrugged. “That’s what he said his name was.”

  “I got an even closer look at him when he gave us a ride home just now. I’ve never seen him before. He’s not Kenny Miller.”

  “Did you ask him what his real name was?”

  Vernon nodded. “He didn’t answer me.”

  Weird. Perhaps Vernon was confused.

  “But Miriam’s not here,” Arleta said.

  Vernon didn’t seem to hear her, and she said it a second time, louder.

  I finally put it together. “Stop the driver.” I pointed to the door. “Ask him where he dropped her off.”

  Vernon ignored me and headed down the hall, most likely to see for himself if Miriam was home.

  I tucked the baby back beside Arleta and rushed to the door, stumbling onto the porch and then down the back steps. The birth had gone fine and Arleta’s baby girl was perfect. But now her other daughter was missing.

  The Jeep fishtailed, the taillights wavering in the dark as it turned back onto the road.

  CHAPTER 4

  Arleta slept on the couch, the baby in the crook of her arm, while I curled up on the end of it, wearing my coat. There was no other place to doze. Well, there were six hardback chairs at the table, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep sitting on one of them.

  I stoked the fire every half hour or so, checking on both the baby and Arleta when I did. At 4:30 a.m., Vernon shuffled into the living room and lit the lamp that I’d extinguished an hour earlier. His suspenders hung around his hips.

  He headed straight to the kitchen without turning his attention to Arleta or the baby.

  Arleta stirred. “Could you make him coffee?”

  “Probably not,” I answered. “I haven’t made coffee on a propane stove for years.”

  She sat up and extended the baby to me. “Would you hold her?”

  I took the baby as I asked, “Can’t he make his own coffee?”

  “Probably not,” Arleta answered.

  I held the baby in one hand and scooted off the couch, feeling as if I was being petty. “Tell me how to make the coffee.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

  I gave her my arm as she twisted her legs out from under the blankets and stood.

  “Do you feel all right?” I hoped her blood pressure was staying steady.

  She nodded.

  A pan banged in the kitchen. Arleta shuffled over the hardwood floor. I drew the baby close, wondering what they would name her.

  A minute later, Vernon hustled back through the living room, yelling, “Joshua! Time to get up.”

  The baby startled, and I held her closer. Vernon kept on going down the hall.

  A minute later, he returned, and soon after, Joshua came stumbling through the living room, oblivious to me or the baby.

  I dozed on the couch with the baby in my arms, relishing the weight of her body and her sweet breaths, then woke to the smell of coffee and ham. Maybe toast. I groaned. Arleta had made breakfast too. I checked my phone, which only had five percent of its battery left. I still needed to arrange for a ride back to the pickup and call for a tow.

  Vernon barked, “Let’s get going.” The back door banged.

  I stood with the baby and headed into the kitchen.

  Arleta sat alone at the table with a cup of coffee and full plate of ham, scrambled eggs, and toast in front of her. “Hungry?” she asked.

  “No, thank you.” I sat down across from her. What would Mom think of a new mother cooking me breakfast?

  Arleta cut the ham with her fork and took a bite.

  I asked, “Do you have a name picked out for the baby?”

  She shook her head as she chewed.

  “A top-three list?” I asked, hoping to make some sort of conversation.

  She shook her head again and took a bite of the eggs. Maybe she had a name in mind but didn’t want to talk about it.


  “Do you have anyone to help you today? A relative or neighbor?”

  “No,” she answered. “Miriam was going to help.”

  “Where do you think she is?”

  Arleta shrugged, her face expressionless.

  The baby stirred, and I shifted her to my shoulder. “Are you going to call the police and report her missing?”

  Arleta wrapped her hands around her mug. “Vernon will call the bishop once he’s done with the chores.”

  “All right . . .” I wondered what the bishop would do. “Delores will come by tomorrow to check on you and the baby and fill out the birth certificate. But I’ll go out now and ask Vernon to ask the bishop to send someone over to help you.”

  Arleta ducked her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine. Tell Delores I’ll call her if I need anything.” That wasn’t how it worked, but I didn’t tell Arleta that Delores would visit no matter what. If she was still ill, she’d find another midwife to do it.

  As I cradled the baby, she began to root around. I’d give Arleta a few more minutes to eat and then get her nursing again. I was thankful for the chance to meet this little one, and I’d be forever grateful that both she and her mama were all right. And it had been a thrill to witness a birth again.

  But I was done masquerading as a midwife. Sadly, I was anything but.

  AFTER THE BABY nursed again, Arleta folded up the quilt and blanket, stashed them back in her bedroom, and pulled a baby bassinet out of a closet and placed it close to the wood stove.

  “You need to not overexert yourself.” I slipped the baby onto the little mattress. “Too much activity can cause you to bleed. That’s a big no-no.”

  “I’ll be all right.” She sat down on the couch.

  I gathered up my things and then headed into the kitchen to do the breakfast dishes. A pot of water was just coming to a boil on the back burner. I cringed at the thought of Arleta filling it.

  I put the plates in the dishpan.

  “Leave those,” she called out.

  “It will only take me a minute.” When I’d assisted Mom, I’d done dishes, along with sibling duty. She’d always had mama and baby duty. And calm-the-father duty too, when needed.

  As I scrubbed the dishes, I had a view of the side yard and the pasture but also a sliver of the barn, if I leaned to the left. I caught glimpses of Vernon and Joshua in the bit of light that spilled out from the barn from time to time. They’d been feeding and milking a small herd, probably around twenty cows, and then feeding the horses and chickens.

  When I finished the dishes, I dried my hands and took out my phone, figuring I should arrange my ride. I decided I’d wait until I got to the pickup to call for a tow truck, just in case it would start this time.

  I called Kenny M.’s number and was sent straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother to leave a message and instead got back on the ride-share app and found a car ten minutes away. I headed back into the living room. Both Arleta and the baby were sleeping. I stoked the fire and said Arleta’s name quietly.

  She stirred.

  “I’m leaving in a couple of minutes.” I held up the list I pulled from Delores’s bag. “I need to go over a few things before I go.”

  “I remember all of this from last time,” Arleta said.

  “Well, it’s been a while.” I guessed Joshua was fifteen or sixteen. I sat down beside her and talked about getting enough fiber, using ice and taking acetaminophen for pain, and monitoring her bleeding. “Call Delores—I mean, have Vernon call her—immediately if you start to hemorrhage or if you pass a large blood clot. Wear your nursing bra at all times, let your breasts air, and apply some sort of cream—lanolin or udder ointment—on your nipples.”

  She nodded. “Like I said, I remember all of this.”

  “All right.” I handed her the list. I’d tell Delores she needed to go over the entire list with Arleta, just to make sure everything was covered.

  I checked my phone. The car was just minutes away. “I’m going to go ahead and leave,” I said. “It was wonderful to share this experience with you and your baby.”

  Arleta nodded, with a hint of a smile on her face, the most I’d seen since I arrived.

  I slipped my coat on, pulled on my gloves, and picked up the bags.

  It was still pitch black outside, except for the light from the barn. I headed for it. The snow had stopped, but at least a foot had accumulated in the barnyard.

  Perhaps Vernon sensed me because he stepped through the side door of the barn. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I left Arleta a list of things to do to ensure she gets good postnatal care. Please take a look at it.”

  “All right.”

  “And make sure she doesn’t work too hard. She needs a woman to come in, or at least an experienced girl. Would you talk to the bishop about that?”

  “Well, I expect Miriam will be home any minute.”

  “Hopefully so, but Arleta needs help. And perhaps the police should be notified about Miriam, in addition to the bishop.”

  He crossed his arms over his heavy coat. “I’ll think on that.”

  “Call Delores if you have any questions about anything.”

  “I’ve delivered plenty of calves.” He nodded his head toward his herd.

  I sighed. “Some things are similar, but it’s not the same. Believe me.” I nearly laughed at myself. What did I know anymore?

  An SUV turned into the driveway.

  “Mach’s gut,” I said.

  He grunted. “Good-bye to you too” in English, most likely happy to see me go.

  The driver, whose name flashed on my screen as Nancy S., was a middle-aged woman. “Well, I can guess what you’ve been up to,” she said as I put my bags in the back and then climbed up front. “New baby for this family?”

  I nodded.

  “Everything go all right?”

  “Perfectly.” Well, except that their oldest daughter had gone missing in the middle of the night, but I wouldn’t tell a stranger that. I covered my mouth as I yawned.

  “Yep, I bet you’re tired.” She pulled around and headed back to the lane. “I actually have come out this way a number of times. Two kids on their Rumschpringe, sneaking out at night.”

  I hesitated about asking her anything more. It wasn’t my business. But I couldn’t keep quiet. “Did you see the girl last night by any chance?”

  She shook her head. “But I saw her the night before, and she was quite upset.”

  MERCIFULLY, UNCLE SETH’S pickup started. I waved to Nancy and then, after I’d plugged my phone into the charger, called Delores as the sun peeked over the woods to my left.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “My fever broke,” she said, “so I’m on the mend. Hopefully I won’t be contagious by tomorrow.”

  I gave Dolores an update, including Miriam’s disappearance, and then said, “Do you think she’s in danger?”

  “I know Miriam has been troubled, running with the wrong crowd and that sort of thing. Hopefully she just crashed at someone’s house and will be home soon.” Delores coughed deeply several times.

  When she stopped, I asked, “Do you think Arleta is safe?”

  “What do you mean?” Delores was growing hoarse. “Do you think she’s physically at risk?”

  “She doesn’t have anyone coming to help her,” I replied. “And Vernon seems completely disengaged—not that interested in Arleta or the baby. Honestly, Arleta didn’t seem that interested in the baby either. I mean, she nursed her, but everything she did seemed robotic, as if she knew what was expected but there was no feeling to it.”

  “I think she has a pretty flat personality. . . .” Delores’s voice trailed off. “Arleta only came to two prenatal appointments, both times by herself. And I haven’t met Vernon.”

  “Well, see what you think when you go visit her tomorrow.” I shivered. “Should I take Uncle Seth’s pickup back now? Or wait until later?”

  “Wait. I jus
t spoke with him, and he’s feeling worse. If you need to use it to run an errand or anything, feel free.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let me know how Arleta is doing.”

  She assured me she would and then hung up. I checked to confirm the battery on my phone was still charging and then headed back to Mammi’s.

  As I drove through the winter wonderland, thoughts of my mother returned. She’d had some friends from the organic farm where she’d worked who used a midwife for their children’s births, so when she realized she was pregnant with me, she chose to do the same. Then she checked out every library book on pregnancy, childbirth, postnatal care, and caring for a newborn that she could find.

  I was born on a hot July night in the cabin where Dad still lived, only now with Joy and Karlie. Mom’s friends had gathered on the front porch in support, while Dad massaged Mom’s lower back in the living room, with her midwife, Hazel, standing watch. After my mother labored for nearly thirty hours, I finally slipped from her body.

  Mom said it was the holiest moment of her life. She was changed. Completely transformed by motherhood. She scooped me up and held me to her chest, not letting anyone else even see me.

  “You were perfect,” she would coo when she told me the story.

  Two years later, she lost a baby, a stillborn little boy. She was heartbroken. After that her midwife—who was in her fifties—asked if Mom wanted to train with her, to be a partner. Hazel saw Mom had both an interest and an aptitude for the business. Mom embraced becoming a midwife, sure it was her calling. She took classes, correspondence courses, and assisted Hazel. Step by step, she grew more experienced. By the time I was old enough to go to school, Mom was going out on births alone. She decided to homeschool me so she wouldn’t have to worry about after-school childcare. I went with her, whenever she was needed.

  Dad continued to work on the ranch, herding, branding, and calving. Sometimes I’d go to work with him too, and I even thought, for a short time, about being a cowgirl. But that didn’t last long. I knew I wanted to be a midwife like my mom. As I grew older, I still loved going to Indiana and spending time with Mammi, but I also loved returning home. Not only did I miss Mom and Dad, but I missed the newborn babies too.