Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  “Now wait a minute. I didn’t sign on to be a midwife. I know nothing about such things,” Julian argued.

  “Papa, wash your hands, and come over here. No one said you signed on for this, but it’s what family does for one another. Maybe if someone had helped my mother, she’d still be alive today. My hands are too big, too, or I’d be offering. Hold on, Evie. I know this is distracting. I’m sure Papa is just being bashful.” Wallace was multitasking: performing foot rubs, comforting me, and chastising Julian, all at the same time.

  “Oh, all right,” said Julian. His body shivered from head to foot in an involuntary shudder. “Please, excuse my reluctance. I really am unsure about all of this.”

  I looked up and saw that Jody was holding onto Sarah’s arm, literally holding her back. Evidently, she had wanted to say something about Julian’s unwillingness, but Wallace had stood up for me, and now nothing else needed to be said.

  The contractions were practically on top of each other. “Julian,” I squeaked, “I’d really appreciate a hand, yours if you please. Just pretend I’m a mare…ohhh…shit!”

  Julian stuck his hands over the basin, and Jody splashed them with the alcohol wash. “I really wish you had started screaming earlier. It would be easier if I had a fair amount of whisky in me before doing this….task.” His little preamble about his chore started stern, but ended with a smile. “Do I need some oil, Sarah? I’d hate to hurt the lady.”

  “I’m past hurting,” I snarled, “Just reach up in there, and make sure it’s safe to push, oh no, not again...”

  I stopped talking and held my breath. Julian stuck his hands out again, and Jody poured oil over them. “This should help grease the way so the bairn can slip through easier. Now, ye just put yer oiled finger around the…”

  “Evie, keep breathing,” ordered Sarah. “When you hold your breath, you’re pushing. Julian, is she up to ten centimeters?”

  “Uh, I think so, but there’s a head down there. Jody, bring the light.”

  Jody held the lantern and leaned over to see. Sarah and Julian bent over at the same time, and all three clunked heads. Assorted exclamations and curses ensued, but quickly evaporated as the two men let Sarah in to see. “She’s ready, Julian. Keep oiling and stretching. Rips are hard to mend, and I can’t perform an episiotomy with these hands.”

  “She’s a mare, Julian, a small, prize mare, just a little while longer.” Julian mumbled his own little mantra to himself, but it was audible to everyone because of the very close quarters.

  I sat up and started pushing. Wallace had my back and was supporting my shoulders, Jody was helping me hold onto my knees, and Sarah was standing over Julian’s shoulder, poised like an umpire behind a catcher at a baseball game. I couldn’t see Wallace or Julian, but Jody was beaming. This wasn’t his child coming into the world, but he or she was his kin. Sarah had the detached emotion of a bricklayer. She was 100% clinical, but she had to be. She was performing obstetrics via verbal instructions to an untrained—and very uptight—man.

  I pushed again, and Julian hollered, “Sarah, is the face supposed to be pointed down?”

  “Yes, now ease the shoulders out one at a time.”

  Sarah talked Julian through pulling my first child into the world. I could hear the baby screaming, which meant he was hale and had good lungs. “It’s a boy,” she announced.

  Jody took the baby and started cleaning him up, wiping off the vernix. “Hey, everybody, I think he’s gonna have red hair like his great-uncle. I’ve wiped off the blood and white stuff, but the copper fuzz is stayin’. Ye did good lass, he’s wee, but a hearty one.”

  I leaned back for a rest. “That’s uncle or grandfather, Jody,” I corrected, “and there’s another cub in the lion’s den, still waiting to get out,” I puffed. “It ain’t over yet.”

  A dozen more contractions and at least three dozen more pushes, and I still hadn’t produced another baby. I collapsed back into Wallace’s arms, too worn out from pushing to sit upright by myself, much less to open my eyes. “Can you see his head yet, Julian?” I gasped.

  Julian grimaced as he took on the distasteful part of his midwife task: he bent down and looked up between my legs for the baby’s head. “No, no head, but I think he’s shaking his fist at me. Sarah, is this normal?” he asked.

  Sarah bent down to look. Sure enough, a little hand was grasping at the air. She took a deep breath before speaking. She was more than just concerned about this new development. “Evie, lie back and relax every muscle in your body. Do not push. We have to get this baby’s hand back in, and then see if we can move him around so his head will come out first.”

  I didn’t hear anything else she said after that.

  I went totally limp and let my essence slip into a delicate bubble of solitude. Any stress or movement would shatter it—and the little person inside my womb who depended on me. No sound, pain, thought, or emotion was allowed. All I was aware of was my slow, even, shallow breathing.

  Sarah directed Julian’s movements. If he had any protests about his duties, he didn’t voice them now. His eyes, shut tight, concentrated on the shapes of the baby’s body parts that he was feeling inside the womb. The baby’s hand that had pushed through the cervical opening, was safely back inside. Julian followed the hand up the arm to the shoulder. From there he maneuvered the small infant’s body so the head was down toward the cervix. He felt the umbilical cord wrapped around the babe’s neck.

  “Hold on, everyone,” he said, but was really directing his message to Sarah. She had been instructing him, but he hadn’t been listening; he was concentrating on what he was doing. He stuck a finger under the cord and pulled it over the infant’s head. He knew about cord strangulation, and it wasn’t going to happen when he was at the helm!

  Julian pulled out his hand, grabbed a cloth, wiped himself off, and said, “The baby’s in position.” Then, in a very good imitation of Jody, intoned, “We’re ready when ye are, ‘Darrrlin’.”

  Everyone looked at Evie. She was totally immobile, and her face was blank. She would have looked dead except for the slight rise and fall of her belly and bosom. Wallace lifted her arm—it was totally slack. Sarah’s eyes were like saucers. Jody hollered at her, “Sarah, do somethin’. What’s wrong with her?”

  “Hell, if I know,” she said, totally stunned.

  Wallace took matters into his own hands, or rather fingers. He pinched Evie’s inside upper arm, and put his face right into hers. “Wake up,” he yelled.

  The combination of the two intercessions made me bolt upright. I didn’t know if I had hypnotized myself or was half-dead, but either way, I was back. “Ouch, that hurt,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “Ye jest scarrit the piss out of us, that’s all,” said Jody. “Are ye ready? Ye got another bairn in there who wants to come out.”

  Right then, a contraction hit. I didn’t know if I had been having them while I was ‘out’ or not, but this one definitely got my attention. Wallace was at my back and Jody at my knees as soon as I gasped at the onset of pain. Sarah and Julian stayed at their positions at the foot of the chaise. “I think we have another red head,” declared Julian.

  It only took two pushes to get my second son into the world. My first son had widened the path to the outside for him, I suppose. I lay back and relaxed as Julian took care of the placenta. Jody had handed Wallace the first baby, and was cleaning up number two. “Yer right, Julian, we have another red heided boy. This one is a bit smaller than the first, but they’re both bonnie-sized fer havin’ shared the same womb.”

  “There’s only one placenta. Sarah, does that mean they’re identical twins?” asked Julian.

  “Yes, most definitely. Congratulations, Evie. Did you know that Ian’s mother had twins? They were fraternal, though. There’s a big difference. You had one egg fertilized, and it split into two embryos. These two guys will look alike, but I assure you, they’ll be two different persons.”

  “It’s a good thing I hav
e two boobs then. Is either one of them ready to nurse?” I asked.

  Jody walked over with number two. “It looks like this one is hungry. The first one has already fallen asleep.”

  I was adjusting my smock down so I could nurse, when a horrible feeling came over me. I held up my hand, “Not yet,” I groaned. I rolled over onto my side, extremely nauseous. “Wallace, pan,” I yelped.

  Wallace reached for the basin with one hand, and passed off the firstborn to Julian with the other. He got to me just in time. I gagged and spit up slimy green bile. “Oh, this is not good,” I moaned, and reached up to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Wallace grabbed a fresh cloth and performed the clean up for me. “Here, rinse,” he said, a cup of water in his hand.

  I obeyed, then asked, “Help me stand up, would you, please?”

  Wallace put his arm around my much narrower middle and helped me take a few steps.

  “Are you sure you should be doing that?” asked Julian.

  “She probably has gas,” said Sarah. “Walking will help relieve the pressure.”

  Sarah, Jody, and Julian gathered around the baby boys as we walked. Number two had calmed down without being fed, and was nuzzled into Jody’s shoulder, his lips pursed, content to just make little sucking motions.

  Wallace brought me back to the chaise. A sudden contraction hit without warning, and I bent over, helpless, clutching my middle.

  “Chamber pot!” I yelped. I yanked off my birth fluid-soaked sarong and squatted over the pot. I didn’t mind if Wallace or anyone else was watching me. I knew how crass I was behaving, taking a dump in the middle of a room full of people, but at this point, I didn’t care.

  “Oh,” I groaned as another contraction hit. I called out hoarsely, “Wallace!” I felt the pressure, and started to stand up, my legs bowed apart. “Catch,” I squeaked.

  Wallace held his huge hands out just in time to catch my baby girl, the cord still attached to the placenta inside of me.

  We were joined by a baby and her umbilicus.

  “Good timing,” I panted. “Uh, oh, here comes the rest.” I squatted back down, and the placenta dropped into the pot.

  Wallace looked up at me with a smile like a new summer day. This little girl was his by imminent domain. “Papa, we need a little help over here,” he called.

  Julian turned around and saw what had just happened. “Again?” he asked as he rushed over to attend to me.

  He had tied off the cord and was just about to cut it. “Would you like to do this, son?”

  “Aye, Papa, I thank ye for the honor,” said Wallace with a Scottish flourish and accepted the dirk. The thick accent he was using sounded natural. I never realized how much he sounded like Jody before. The similarity wasn’t lost on Julian or Sarah either. They were both wide-eyed at the sound of his reply.

  “Uh, can I get something to cover up with, please,” I asked to break the stunned silence. I was standing in the middle of our multipurpose family room without anything on but a shirt. It covered my private parts, but I had become used to this era and its moral standard that a woman’s legs were not to be bared except in the bedroom, and maybe not even then.

  “Here,” said Sarah, “use this.” She motioned for Jody to grab the cloth that had never been used as my lap sheet for delivery. “And give her these, too,” and gave him a couple of cloths for me.

  They all turned their heads as I cleaned and dressed myself. “Thanks,” I said and stuffed the cloths between my legs. I made myself another sarong with the sheet, went to my chamber pot chair, and sat down. “Now, will someone bring me one of my babies to hold? I still haven’t seen any of them up close.”

  The men performed a little ceremony as they presented me with each of the babies, making sure I knew which was son number one and which was my second born. I looked at the boys closely. “Can you tell the difference between them? I can,” I bragged. “Go ahead and swap them around. You can’t confuse me.”

  Jody and Julian both took this as a personal challenge. They turned their backs to me, and moved the cloth bundles back and forth between each other. Jody held his bundle out to me. “Now dinna be goin’ by the swaddlin’; we may or may not have changed them around.”

  “This is number one and, if that one has a penis, he has to be number two. I’m glad there aren’t three boys. They’d be harder to differentiate.”

  “How did you do that?” asked Julian. He knew I was correct, but wanted to know how I had managed their shell game.

  “Easy; look closely. Number one has a cowlick on his left forehead. Number two’s is on the right side. I think we had better not let them know about their little ‘tell.’ I’m sure they’ll try to pull the old switcheroo on us more than once as they get older. I want to stay one up on them as long as I can.”

  Wallace still had my little girl bundled close to his chest. I had better start thinking of her as ‘our’ little girl. She was squalling and putting her fist into her mouth. “I think she’s hungry,” he said as he offered her to me.

  I discreetly bared my breast and she latched on with a powerful grip. “Umph,” I squeaked. “She may be the smallest, and the last one out, but she sure has a mouth on her.”

  Julian and Jody looked at each other. “Don’t say it, Jody,” warned Julian.

  “Oh, there’s no harm in tellin’ her that the wee lass takes after her in that respect.”

  “Ha, ha,” I mocked. “If she has a big mouth that gets her into trouble, at least she’ll probably to be smart enough to know how to use it to get herself back out.”

  ***42 Naming

  “I guess I had better name these children pretty soon. I don’t want to be calling them boy number one, boy number two, and girl, you know.” I breathed a deep sigh. “Ian Kincaid, you blew it, dude,” I said to the ceiling with a bit too much hostility for the occasion.

  Sarah was sitting at the table, turning her hands over, looking at the blisters that were rising on the palms of her hands. She was listening to me, but didn’t say anything. I could tell she was thinking about it, though. I changed focus and saw that Jody was standing behind her now. I wasn’t sure if he had heard me grousing or not; then he spoke and removed all doubt.

  “I dinna ken what ‘blue it’ means, and I dinna think that Ian is deid,” he tipped his head to the ceiling like I had, as if I had meant that Ian was in heaven, “so if ye mean he made a great error in judgment, I agree. I canna understand why he would leave ye like he did. But to his credit, he did leave ye with his family. Sarah and I care fer ye and are more than happy to have ye and yer beautiful bairns stay with us as long as ye’d like. But I happen to ken a fine young lad jest achin’,” Jody was stroking his chin, trying to control the words spilling out of his mouth, “well, let’s jest say ye have a proper man now. He’s willin’—nae, wantin’—to take care of ye and the bairns. I dinna think a number eight cannon could blast him away from ye. Now, that bein’ said, have ye found proper names fer the wee uns?”

  “Well, since I always referred to my belly as the lion’s den, I’d like to give them names having to do with lions. I thought of Judah for number one, and maybe Leo, or names like it, for number two.”

  “Ye do seem to ken yer Bible, and a bit of Latin, too. Where did ye go to school? Oh, I’m sorry, ye still dinna remember, do ye? Aye, Judah is a fine strong name. Did ye ever hear of Leonardo da Vinci? He was a very fine man with many talents.”

  “Oh, yes, Leonardo da Vinci is still famous and talked about in the twenty-first century. I could talk for hours about him and his inventions. Oh, and did you know it was rumored that he was a time traveler by the name of Leonard Vincent who was really from the 20th century?”

  Just at that moment, Wallace and Julian walked in. “I hope we’re not interrupting,” said Julian.

  “No, not at all,” I said. “Actually, I’d like everyone’s input on this. We were just talking about names for the babies. I like Judah and Leonardo as first names for my
boy cubs. They shared the den with their little sister, but I don’t have any ideas for her name.”

  “How about Danielle, as in Daniel in the lion’s den?” asked Wallace. “Danielle is the French feminine form of Daniel.”

  “I like that! Now all we have to do is figure out the other names.” My mood dropped like a rock into an empty bucket. “Do I have to assign their last name now, or will it be Kincaid by default?”

  I looked up and saw two empty male faces, a young man with slightly reddened ears, and a blushed Sarah. She spoke up, “Right now, it’s up to you. The only recording of the names would be in the family Bible.” She grinned and said in a teasing manner, “Do you happen to have one of those in that little bag of yours?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. There’s a pocket-sized Bible tucked into one of the inside pockets. I didn’t remember that I’d seen it there until you said something. It seems a bit ironic, though, don’t you think? I’m recording a maxi birth in a mini Bible. I hope there’s enough room for all their names.”

  “Write very small,” said Sarah, “and leave room for a last name later. No one will see the names until you want them to. Does anyone know what day it is? I haven’t been paying attention?”

  “It’s June 21, summer solstice,” said Wallace. “They were born in the zodiac sign of Gemini, the Twins.” He walked over to the littlest of the babies, Danielle, and stroked her pinkish bronze-colored hair. “Twins with a bonus baby. She sure is beautiful. Danielle, ma belle.”

  Wallace’s ears had lost their pink tinge of embarrassment, but now he was glowing in a different way: with pride. He was clearly infatuated with Danielle, his little girl.

  “You know, I think this is going to work out just fine. The babies may not have a father,” I blushed and looked down, and softly said, “yet,” then took a deep breath and continued aloud, “But the Lord has provided me with three fine gentlemen to be godfathers. Wallace, will you be Danielle’s godfather?” I asked.

  Wallace paused before he answered, sharing a smile so wide, I could see his molars. “I would be most honored,” he said. He bent down to peer into her little face again. “My little girl,” his smile bloomed again, and I swore she grinned back at him. “She smiled at me,” he said. “She knows who I am!”