The Personal History of Rachel DuPree_ A Novel - Ann Weisgarber [90]
My prayer said, I gathered myself. “Mary. John. Come on out here.”
“What’s wrong?” Mary said when they came out.
“Sit down.” She took the other rocker, and John sat at my feet, crossing his long legs. I said, “There’s something you have to know.” I paused. “There’s a baby coming.”
One of them made a little squeaking sound. Birthing babies wasn’t something I talked about with the children, not even with Mary. When there was a baby on the way, the older children just came to understand.
I said, “Daddy might not be here, not in time.”
Mary drew in some air. John said, “Why not?”
“It might come sometime in the night or maybe early morning. I don’t know.”
“You mean tonight?” John said.
“Could be. Babies are like that, you don’t ever know ahead of time.” My hands shook. I tried to make them rest quiet on the armrests. “You might have to help me get this baby born. If Daddy’s not back.”
“I don’t want to,” John said.
“I know it. But you might have to.”
John’s face was frozen up with fear. I knew what he was thinking. He was remembering when Emma was born. It had taken all night. Isaac had made John and the girls get in Mary’s bed. The four of them covered their heads with the blanket and still they heard me. I heard them too, crying.
“Listen to me, John,” I said.
All at once, a cramp took hold, catching me unaware. Through watery eyes, I saw the two of them stare at me. I put my hand up to them, waiting until the cramp began to back off. I blew out some air. “I’m all right,” I said.
“See there?” Mary said to John. “Mama needs us. And just think what Daddy’ll say.”
“What’ll he say?”
“He’ll say how he came home and found a baby waiting for him. He’ll say how you and me did it.”
“Daddy might not like that.”
“No, he’ll be proud.”
John chewed his lower lip, turning that over in his mind.
“Real proud,” Mary said.
And he“ll talk about it?”
“For years.”
The tension eased in John’s thin shoulders. Mary was her father’s daughter, I realized. Like Isaac, Mary knew just what to say to buck up a person and make him think he could do most anything.
“That’s right,” I said, “Daddy’ll be proud ’cause your part in this, John, is real important. We can’t birth this baby without you. Even if your daddy gets home in time, there’s things you need to do. Like see to your sisters.”
As my hand rubbed circles on Rounder’s back, I told them I’d be fine on my own for a long time, maybe most of the night, even if I got to looking a little peaked. “That’s just nature’s way,” I said. “Getting a baby born is hard work. You two’ll go on to bed tonight, like always. When I need you—if I do—I’ll wake you.”
“Yes, Mama,” Mary said.
“All right then.” I put my mind to what came next. “You’ve seen calves being born. It’s the same way for babies.” Mary and John sucked in air. I had shocked them. I said, “I’ll be bearing down, pushing to get the baby out. You might have to help; you might have to pull it out some.” My mouth was dry. I ran my tongue along my teeth to work up some spit. “I’ll tell you what to do, and you do it even if you think you’re hurting me. Because you’re not. It just looks that way. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the lantern light, their faces were drawn and their eyes were scared. They’d seen cows struggle when giving birth; they’d seen some of them die. “Come here, you two,” I said. “Give me your hands.” They came to me, and I smiled at them. “I’m proud of you, real proud.” They smiled back, their lips wobbly.
“There’s one more thing.” I squeezed their hands, wanting to give them courage. “Just like with calves, there’s going to be some blood. On the baby. But the baby’s not bleeding, that’s just nature’s way. Nobody’s hurt, not me, not the baby. Just wipe it up. Like with a calf, there’ll be mucus. Get it out of the baby’s nose and mouth, first thing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And it’s all right if you get to feeling puny. Just go outside and get yourself some fresh air. Come on back when you’re feeling like yourself again. But come back. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Remember