Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [10]
“And what of Lorenzo? Has he married that girl he met in New York?” The mother interrogated Giovanna while she dried her hands.
“Next month they’ll marry.”
“Lorenzo Costa marrying a girl from Puglia.” The woman clucked her tongue. “L’America is diluting Calabrese blood.”
Giovanna wished the Signora would shut up and pay more attention to her laboring daughter.
“The head’s to heaven,” whispered Signora Scalici to Giovanna. “I’ve tried to turn the baby for weeks. We’ll have to deliver it breech.”
The mother fluttered around the room commanding her daughter, “You need to push more. Be strong.”
“Signora,” directed Signora Scalici, “we need more belladonna. Can you get it?”
“Sì, sì, of course.” Maria’s mother swept out on her mission, heading to the farmacia. The request for belladonna would be the pharmacist’s cue to keep the meddling mother occupied and out of the way for as long as possible.
The young woman calmed when her mother left. “Maria,” Signora Scalici spoke directly in her ear, “we must do this together. Lean on Giovanna and follow her directions.”
Giovanna braced her body against Maria’s back and held her beneath the arms. At the next contraction, Giovanna instructed, “A long push, make it long and slow.” Maria’s sweat-drenched hair was matted, and the veins in her neck and face looked as though they might break through her skin.
After a long hour of pushing, the baby’s culo emerged as Signora Scalici looped the cord around her finger to protect it from tangling. With Giovanna applying pressure to Maria’s lower pelvis, Signora Scalici reached in and unfolded the baby’s legs, drawing them out.
“Ah, as I thought, Maria, you have a girl.” Turning to Giovanna, she said, “We must quickly birth the head.”
Maria was exhausted. “Can’t we let her rest through the next contraction?” muttered Giovanna. Giovanna was still young and occasionally her empathy got the best of her.
“Clear the nose and mouth when you see them,” instructed Signora Scalici, ignoring Giovanna’s question. “Forza, Maria. We will soon see your child’s head.” Signora Scalici draped the baby’s body over her forearm and reached into Maria, putting her fingers into the baby’s mouth. The fingers of her other hand cradled the back of the baby’s neck.
“Push, Maria,” gently coaxed Giovanna. Maria no longer looked human; it was as if all the blood had drained from her face, into her eyes. The strain of pushing had broken all the blood vessels.
Signora Scalici lifted the lower half of the baby’s body upward. Maria pushed, the midwife pulled, and the nose and eyes emerged. Giovanna quickly wiped them.
“This is it, Maria, but a slow push this time.” Giovanna realized the cruelty of her words. This baby was only centimeters from being born, and the mother had to take it slow. But Maria listened, and in one slow, long push, the rest of her little girl’s head emerged.
“Brava, Maria!” exhorted Signora Scalici. Maria fell back on the pillows, panting and moaning.
Giovanna cleared the baby’s passages and laid her on her mother’s chest. All three women felt such relief that laughter accompanied their tears.
“Maria, they say that with a girl born backwards, the birth is the easiest part. She will be strong and stubborn. Look at Giovanna! When I delivered her, I was first introduced to her culo!”
They were soon quiet. Giovanna looked at Maria cradling her daughter. The baby was black and blue, Maria was covered in blood, and yet they looked beautiful. A peace descended in the room as the baby suckled for the first time. Giovanna’s thoughts turned to Nunzio. With his return imminent, she could not attend a birth without thinking of their children. Her faith in the future was strengthened as she imagined cradling Nunzio’s child. They would finally be inextricably bound and live forever in their generations.
Through scores of births, Giovanna would imagine birthing