 
DAVID SHATH SQUARE Chapter Thirty-four
The frozen lake reflected the March sun like polished silver. The ice looked hard and durable even though, as the wolf pack had discovered, it was becoming thin and treacherous.
We sat close to the lake near patches of receding snow. We had both lost track of time and date, but reckoning by the height of the sun in the sky and the size of Thoreena's swollen belly, we both agreed the Ides of March, the date the baby was due, was fast approaching. I was about to ask Thoreena how she was feeling when she stood up and walked toward the cabin.
"What's wrong?"
"It's starting!"
"What's starting?"
"My water just broke."
"What water?"
"Hell's bells, Hardy. Didn't you listen to a thing I told you about a woman having a baby?"
Actually, I had listened to what Thoreena had told me during our long hours together in the cabin; she knew plenty about childbirth, having assisted at many births during her time with the Indians. I guess I just wasn't prepared to admit that the moment had arrived when I would be assisting my wife at the birth of our child. My hands shook as I stood up and followed Thoreena to the cabin.
"Don't panic," I said to Thoreena.
"Whose panicking. You're the one whose hands are shaking," she said.
When we entered the cabin, Thoreena lay down on the grass mat that served as our bed.
"What should I do?" I asked.
"Hardy, we've been over this a thousand times. Just relax. It will be hours before the baby is delivered."
"Hours! What am I going to do for hours?"
"You could start by boiling some water to sterilize the knife and the strips of clothing."
Thoreena had torn what was left of our t-shirts and jeans into strips that she had already boiled repeatedly in water. She said the baby would have to be cleaned up after it was born.
The knife was my responsibility. I was supposed to use it to cut the umbilical cord that joined the fetus to the placenta or after birth. I was glad Thoreena had decided not to eat the placenta. She said some women eat the placenta to nourish themselves after the ordeal of childbirth and to create a strong spiritual connection between themselves and their child.
I had just fired the woodstove and set the cooling pot to boil when Thoreena let out a small scream.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. It was a weak contraction."
If that was a weak contraction, I wondered, then what was a strong contraction like?
I busied myself with the cookstove. I heated up a pot of broth Thoreena had concocted of fish, deer meat, and wild herbs. She said Indian women ate this broth during labour to give them the courage and strength to survive the pain of childbirth. I put the pot of broth beside Thoreena; she scooped out handfuls of meat and drank hungrily from the pot. Then she lay back on the grass mattress with a beatific smile on her lovely face.
"Hardy, do you think our baby will be a girl or a boy?"
Although we'd never spoken much about it, I had given this question a lot of thought during the long winter months.
"It's going to be a girl," I said.
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because I keep dreaming about a little girl running through a field of wildflowers. She has golden hair just like yours. And her eyes are cornflower blue just like yours. And when she smiles the world becomes more beautiful than it already is."
"Hell's bells, Hardy. You're becoming soft and maudlin in your old age."
I stood over Thoreena with my hands shaking and tears in my eyes. She was right. This whole fatherhood thing was turning me into a sentimental old fool. I turned away from her so as not to let her see my weakness. I was the man. I was the one in charge. God help me. God help us.
The second time Thoreena screamed it was louder than the first. I could tell from the intensity of her voice that a sharp pain had ripped through her body.
"Just another small contraction," she said.
"How long will these contractions go on?"
"It depends. They could go on for hours. But the stronger and closer together they get, the sooner the baby will be born."
I had lots of time to think during that long day. I calculated Thoreena's water had broken at about 9 a.m. By 10 that night her contractions were more frequent but not often and severe enough to indicate birth was imminent. I fed her more broth and tried to keep her spirits up by telling her what a wonderful time we would have together once the baby was born and we returned to Pointe du Bois.
She listened to my prattle, but for the first time I could see doubt had crept into her eyes. She was exhausted; lines of strain had gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Dawn had lit the sky when Thoreena let loose with a scream that reverberated around the cabin like the howl of wounded lioness. I jumped up from my position on the mattress beside Thoreena where I had fallen asleep. I grabbed her hand and held it firmly.
"Hardy, I think it's really starting now."
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later she let out another howl her whole body convulsed with pain. The terrible, racking contractions became more frequent until they were only seconds apart.
"Hardy, take a look. You should be able to see the top of the baby's head."
I looked between Thoreena's legs. I couldn't see anything that looked like a baby's head.
"I can't see anything, Thoreena."
"Look harder. Why did I ever let you make love to me. I knew this would be painful, but I never thought the pain would be intolerable!"
She began to scream again and again. I was frantic. I grabbed a piece of boiled cloth and forced it between her teeth. I was afraid she was going to bite off her tongue in her agony.
"Hardy, get me to my feet," she said during a brief respite from the contractions.
"What?"
"It's the way the Indian women sometimes give birth. Gravity helps to pull the child out of the womb. But first, place a soft mound of grass under me just in case the child slips out before you can catch it."
I did as I was told. Then I grasped Thoreena under the arms and with effort helped to lift her to a standing position. She leaned against the wall. I could tell it took a mighty effort of will on her part to remain standing.
"Okay," she said. "Let go of me and look for the baby. It's head should be visible now."
I knelt and looked between her legs. At first, I couldn't see anything. Then I saw something that resembled a small foot.
"Thoreena, I can see a foot!" I said enthusiastically.
"Oh shit," she said.
"What's the matter?"
"It's a breech birth."
"Is that bad?"
"It could be," she said. "Hardy, I want you to pull gently on the foot. If the baby doesn't come out, then I want you to push the foot back inside me."
As she spoke, Thoreena's legs trembled. Her voice was weak with fatigue.
I pulled on the little foot but the baby remained firmly in place. I pulled a little harder. Still nothing happened. I pushed the foot back inside Thoreena and it disappeared from sight.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Help me to lie down again," she said. Agony and fatigue were apparent on her face.
"Hardy," she said, very weakly "you're going to have to be brave."
I had to put my ear close to her mouth to hear what she was saying.
"Get the knife from the boiling water and bring it over here. If you don't do this thing, then both the baby and I are going to die."
I fetched the knife and walked over to where Thoreena lay. My hands were shaking and my heart was racing a million miles an hour. I put my ear next to her mouth again to receive my instructions.
"When I was living with the Indians," Thoreena said, "a pregnant woman was gored by a bull. The animal ripped her stomach open with its horns. The baby fell out of her stomach onto the ground and survived. So did the woman. I want you to cut my stomach open, Hardy. Make a six-inch incision from my navel to my pelvic bone. Cut through the layers of skin and muscle carefully so you don't injure the baby."
"I can't, Thoreena. I can't do this thing to you."
"Do you love me, Hardy?"
"Of course I love you. You know that."
"Then I demand in the name of our love and of our baby that you do it. There is no other choice."
I raised Thoreena's buckskin skirt until her stomach was bare. Even though it was cool in the cabin, sweat soaked my brow and dripped into my eyes as I raised the knife and placed the sharp tip on the smooth, taut skin just below Thoreena's navel.
To Chapter Thirty-five
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