The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [416]
“Now, at the next pain, I want you to push,” Zelandoni said. The two women on either side of her were each holding a hand, giving her something to grip.
“I feel it coming,” Ayla said.
“Then push!” Zelandoni said.
Ayla took a deep breath and bore down as hard as she could. She felt the donier helping her, pushing down on the baby with her. A gush of warm water spilled on the blanket.
“Good. I was waiting for that,” Zelandoni said.
“I wondered when her waters were going to break,” Proleva said. “Mine seem to break so early, I’m almost dry by the time the baby comes. This is better. Here she goes again.”
“Now, again, push, Ayla,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla bore down again and felt movement.
“I can see the head,” Marthona said. “I’m ready to catch the baby.” She knelt down closer to Ayla, just as another strong contraction started. As Ayla took a deep breath and pushed.
“Here it comes!” Marthona said.
Ayla felt the passage of the head. The rest was easy. As the baby slid out, Marthona reached out and caught it.
Ayla looked down and saw the wet infant in Marthona’s arms, and smiled. Zelandoni smiled, too.
“One last push, Ayla, to get out the afterbirth,” Zelandoni said, helping her again. She pushed and watched a mass of bloody tissue fall on the birthing blanket.
Zelandoni let go of her and moved around to the front of the new mother. Proleva and Folara supported Ayla while Zelandoni took the baby, turned it over, and patted the tiny back. There were little hiccuping sounds. Zelandoni thumped the baby’s feet and watched the infant expel breath in a startle response, then breathe in the first gulp of life-giving air. There was a small crying sound, hardly more than a mewling at first, but it grew as the lungs became accustomed to sustaining life.
Marthona held the infant while the donier cleaned Ayla up a little, wiping away blood and fluid, then Proleva and Folara helped her back to the bed. Zelandoni tied a piece of sinew around the baby’s navel cord—at Ayla’s request it had been dyed red with ochre—to pinch it off and prevent bleeding from the still engorged tube. With a sharp flint blade she cut the cord between the tie and the afterbirth, separating the infant from the placenta that had provided nourishment and a place to grow until birth. Ayla’s infant was a separate entity, a unique and individual human being.
Marthona and Zelandoni cleaned the baby with a velvety soft rabbitskin that Ayla had made for the purpose. Marthona had a small blanket ready, again velvety soft, and so smooth, it felt like the baby’s skin. It was made from the hide of a nearly full-term deer foetus. Zelandoni had told Jondalar that it would be especially lucky for the child born to his hearth if he could secure such a hide for the birth, and he and his brother had gone out near the end of winter looking for a pregnant deer.
Ayla had helped him make the foetal deerskin into the supple leather blanket. He had always been amazed at the softness of her leathers, a skill he knew she had learned from the Clan. After working with her on one, he understood how much effort it took, even starting with a tender foetal skin. Zelandoni laid the baby on the blanket, then Marthona wrapped the newborn in it and brought the child to Ayla.
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You should be pleased. She’s a perfect little girl,” Marthona said, giving the tiny bundle to her mother.
Ayla looked at the tiny likeness of herself. “She’s so beautiful!” She unwrapped the swaddling of soft skins and carefully examined her new daughter, half-fearful