“One, two, three push!” She bears down, pushing her body to its limit. Every fiber of her being joins in the effort with little control of her own. Waves of agony shake her as each contraction comes quicker than the last. She steadies her breathing, reminding herself that she is strong enough to make it through. The relentless wave comes again, strong at first, then growing to unbearable intensity. She wails in pain.
“It’s okay Lucy. It’s almost over. I can see the head.” A few quick breaths and she pushes again. The contractions force her body to operate without conscious effort. She bears down, pushing herself beyond the point of capability. She gasps as the child enters the world and her pain is suddenly subdued.
Tears of joy stream down her face as I help lift the child to her naked breasts. I allow the mother a moment as I take note of her bleeding and begin the process of cleaning up. Agatha watches from the corner, ensuring everything I do is perfect and precise. I clamp and cut the umbilical cord. Agatha, now waiting with a warm towel, wraps the child tight. I help the mother deliver the placenta and freshen up while she weighs and looks over the infant. Moments later, I return the baby girl to its mother, who encourages her to nurse. The father is by her side with a beaming smile and moist eyes.
Agatha and I meet in another room so the new parents can have a moment of privacy. “You did a great job. I hate to lose you as a coworker and a friend, but bigger things await you outside of this small town.”
“You act like I’m moving to a different country. It’s only an hour away.”
“Feels like another country to me.”
“I am certain another young lady will come wanting to learn your skills. Soon you will forget all about me.”
“None like you Clair. In my 30 years of teaching and another 10 studying, I have met no one like you.”
I wipe a tear and hug her tightly. “I’ll be around. I promise.”
“Go on and get home. I am sure you have a lot left to do. I will stay with her and the baby.” Clair nods and grabs her leather bag to leave. “Take my bag. I want you to have it. I stuffed it with extra supplies to start you off. That way, I know you will have money for food.” I try to object, but Agatha thrusts the bag into my hands and pushes me out the door with tears in her eyes. I force my feet to move in the direction of the car, reminding myself it is too late to back out now.
The next day, I stand in front of the small, two-bedroom house that I now call home. The summer sun beats down as I take it all in. It may be small, but it’s perfect just for me. With no husband or kids, I don’t need a huge house to maintain. I plan on building enough clientele to keep me busy, so I won’t be home much any ways.
I unpack all morning until I am sick of looking at boxes. Needing a break, I go to the library to make flyers and find a phonebook. I hang the flyers around town and in local businesses, hoping expectant mothers will see them. I pray that the small community welcomes me. More and more people view the mainstream as delivering babies in hospitals. Some even scoff at the mere thought of a home birth. So many people have forgotten that women have been having babies at home for centuries. Because of the culture shift toward hospital births, it seems that the ones that do desire a my services are a bit eccentric. They are usually not your run-of-the mill people.
I don’t mind, as I’m not what most would consider normal. However, sometimes I encounter very strange family dynamics and even stranger people. To say the least, I am always on guard and always pack heat when I leave the house. A girl can never be too careful. It is the 90s after all.
About a month later and I have 10 women in my scheduling book. Word of mouth advertises my business far better than flyers ever could. Soon, I am turning women away for fear of over stretching myself and going insane with work. Or worse, fear a mother would need my help and I can not be there.
Most days are easy. I check up on expecting mothers, monitor their vitals and listen to baby’s heart beats. Then, when the time comes, I help them do what comes naturally. Sofia is different, and I know the moment I hear her voice. At first I wanted to tell her no, I already have two women due around the same time and I am already stretched thin. Something in her voice stops me. A hint of desperation or a silent plea for help, catches my attention. I jot down the address and make an appointment for 9AM.
All night something lies heavy, almost painful, in the pit of my stomach. I fear it is some sort of instinct, attempting to warn me of a future event. I push the thought aside and discipline my overactive imagination.The next morning, I drive from my rural home, deep into the forest to the address provided. I pull into a long, straight driveway leading to a secluded house. It stands three stories and shines brightly in contrast to the towering green trees.
I sigh a breath of relief, half expecting a tiny run down shack with ‘Wrong Turn’ type of vibes. I grab my bag of essentials and begin feeling foolish for the childish thoughts that seem to be running wild these days.
Sofia opens the door with a smile and invites me in. Immediately, I notice she is underweight and estimate she is about five months along. I notice her smile never quite reaches her eyes. From my experience, when a pregnant woman feels secure and happy, she glows and her eyes sparkle. I don’t see that on her, and I can’t help but wonder why.
I push the analytical thoughts aside and begin my exam. Overall, she is in good health. I express my concerns about her weight, and Sofia explains that the first trimester has left her unable to hold down anything except water. Pacified by her explanation and promise to consume more protein, I prepare to leave.
A man appears in the doorway to my left. “Hi, I am Clair. I was just telling your lovely wife that she needs to eat more and I will be back in a few weeks. He smiles, “I am sure she will follow your every order, doc.”
“No, not a doctor, I am just a mid-wife.”
“Looks the same to me.”
In fear of being rude, I decide not to go into detail about how wrong he is and correct him again. I move on to my next appointment, and finally shake the uneasy feeling that has been looming over my thoughts. A few weeks later, I return to the house on Rainbow lake road and am greeted by Eli. “Good morning, Mr. Oakley. How is Sofia today?”
“She is well. Come in and she will be right down.” I sit on the same couch and watch as Sofia descends the stairs, slightly more plump than before. ” I see you are eating better.”
“Yes, the baby has been a lot easier on me over the past few weeks. I have been able to eat entire meals for the first time in weeks.”
I check her blood pressure and listen to the baby’s heartbeat with a doppler. Eli sits in the corner, observing but not speaking. I do the routine exam of measuring the fundal height and checking for signs of swelling. Soon, Sofia and I get lost in conversations of bee keeping and harvesting herbs. It appears we have a lot in common and I find myself enjoying her company.
I go back the next day just to spend the evening with her. Sofia’s soft-spoken words and gentle nature remind me of my younger sister and soothes my aching heart for a familiar family. Maybe that’s where everything took an unexpected turn, the moment I began to find a friend in Sofia. The days when my heart was homesick and lonely.
Instead of waiting for weeks between our appointments, I started to drop by almost daily. Always finding an excuse to check in. Each day, I watch as her belly grows bigger and bigger. I imagine the mother she will soon be and the doubting father she has at her side.
I pitch in, helping her cook and clean. I do her laundry and help her with errands. I am there as she prepares the nursery and counts down the days until the baby’s arrival. I grow to love Sofia, considering her to be more like a family than a client. I look forward to hearing her voice each day and count on it as a constant in my life.
I notice that the closer Sofia and I become, the more her smile touched her eyes. The more her natural glow shines like a bright aura around her body. I envy her well-off husband and lavish life, and I know that they will raise the child privileged. Happiness for Sofia swells in my chest because I only want the best for my dear friend. I would never want to see her suffer. In fact, I cherish the unlikely friendship and am grateful for her companionship while being so far from home. I am sure Agatha is greatly saddened by my prolonged absence and broken promise to be around often.
The day finally comes, and Sofia’s labor begins. I quickly rush over with my supplies and prepare to be by her side. The contractions come one after the other. Each one brings the breath of life one step closer. Anticipation builds inside of me as I await the arrival of my niece or nephew, a title I thought I would never hold as an only child.
19 hours later and we are all tired and depleted. I walk away, allowing Eli to take over and give me a break. I pace back and forth, wondering how much longer her body can take such rigorous contractions. I steady my nerves, recalling many other times mothers endured labors lasting 20 hours or more. I reassure myself that everything is normal and will be just fine.
In efforts to speed up the process I prepare a tincture of myrrh and cottonwood. I have used the concoction many times before to help stalled labor, but this time I doubt it. I slip the oil into her mouth in between contractions. Eli, visibly concerned, searches my face for answers. I hide my fears, not wanting him to know this is my last ditch effort before calling an ambulance. If she doesn’t have this baby soon, both might die. I must make the right choice and if I wait too long, I could kill them both. I force my emotions out of the equation and weigh the options and risks before me.
Eli calls from the other room, and I sprint to his side. Soon after, the baby emerges, filling the room with joyful cries. Sofia leans back, exhausted. Eli catches the baby and helps him to his mother’s chest. I notice the excess bleeding and apply the shepherd’s purse until I can assess her better. Sofia smiles down at her beautiful baby boy.
“Meet your son, Eli.” I say. He smiles big and kisses Sofia on the top of the head.”You did a great job.”
He goes to the kitchen to wash his hands. I follow behind, wanting to clean mine also and get some warm water and a rag for Sofia. Just as I dry my hands, Eli grabs me, pulling me close to his chest. He kisses me passionately, one hand on my back, the other on my cheek.
I come to my senses and push back, appalled by his advances.
“You pig. Your wife just endured gurgling labor to bring your son into this world and you’re in here making moves on me!”
“Ssshhhhh.” He places a finger over mouth.
“I will not! Sof-.”
He cuts me off and pulls me close again.
“She is not my wife.”
I jerk away again. “What!?”
“I said, she’s not my wife. She is my sister.”
“Ewww, you slept with your sister. How is that any better?”
“No. That is not my child.”
“Then you’re a liar.”
“I’ve never lied to you, you assumed, and I never corrected you.”
I stare at him, unsure of what to believe. He’s right, I assumed, but what does that mean? Where does that leave Sofia?
“I don’t understand.”
“Someone impregnated Sofia against her will. She was with a guy who wasn’t so nice and she got knocked up. Then he beat her almost to death. Because she was in a relationship with him at the time, she refuses to call it what it is. I told her she could live here with me and I would help her get on her feet, but only if she agreed to leave him.”
“How awful. Why did Sofia never mention this? I thought I was her friend.”
“In the beginning, she was afraid you would judge her for her mistakes. Most people in this town have their own opinions about women who have children out of wedlock. That’s why she chose you. You are not from around here and have no prior knowledge of her. When she came to know you better, she wanted to tell you, but was afraid of losing you as a friend. She cares deeply for you.”
He grabs my hand again, pulling me close. This time I don’t fight back.
“I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you. Something about you stirred feelings deep inside my soul that I had never felt before. I tried to stay away, believing that once Sofia had the baby, you would be but a distant memory. Then the day came closer and closer and the thought began to terrify me. What if I never see you again? I had to say something. I could not let you slip away, not without at least trying.”
He kisses me again, gentle and seductive. I stare into his eyes and for a moment I believe every word he says, and I get lost in the emotions. “Sofia needs me. I must go.”
Not wanting to push any further, he allows my hand to slip from him. “We will discuss this later. Now is not the time.”
I return to the living room, visibly unnerved.
“He told you, didn’t he?” Sofia asks with hesitation. Her eyes show fear and condemnation.
“You could have told me.”
“I was afraid you would not be my mid-wife. I was afraid you would hold it against me. I didn’t want to lose the only person that has looked at me without judgment except for my brother. I knew I didn’t have much longer. The longing in his eyes when he looks at you is undeniable. I have never seen him look at anyone like that.”
I bend down and hug her.
“I’m not angry. Let’s deal with what’s at hand. All that can come later.” She smiles brightly and all trepidation fades away. I help her with the third stage of labor and then make her comfortable, grateful the difficult labor is a thing in the past.  Later that evening, after the chaos settles down, Sofia and the baby sleep peacefully.
I step outside, knowing Eli will follow.
“So I guess this is goodbye?” He asks.
“I never said that. I don’t appreciate being lied to, but I understand why you did.”
“I never lied to you. I will never lie to you.”
“I just moved here. I am not ready for a relationship and my job keeps me busy.”
“I’m not asking for a commitment. I am asking for a chance.”
“Why me? You have this enormous house, plenty of money, and you’re not ugly. Why are you so set on me?”
“I have always dreamed this house would be filled with the laughter and pitter patter of children. But I refuse to settle for any woman. I want a woman that is strong, independent, faithful and loyal. You are that and so much more. In my eyes, you are extraordinarily perfect.”
I look deep into his eyes. I hear the sincerity in his voice and can feel the emotions raging through his body. I try to back away but he pulls me close, kissing me again, “Please, don’t leave. Just give me a chance to show you.” He says between kisses and I feel myself falling in love.