DAVID SHATH SQUARE Chapter Thirty-six
I held the knife at the base of Thoreena's navel. The skin of her stomach was smooth and supple. I couldn't bring myself to rend such perfection with the shimmering blade. Each time I attempted a start, I withdrew because my hand shook so badly.
"Hardy," Thoreena said in a weak voice. "Get moving. These contractions are going to kill me before you do."
"I'm afraid to start. I don't know what I'm doing."
"Yes, you do. It's just like cutting open a fish's belly. If you're unsure, make several light incisions. Don't cut too deeply or you may injure the baby."
Injure the baby, I thought. What about the butchery I was about to make of my wife's belly?
Finally, I grasped the knife with both hands and drew the point down her belly. I stopped just above the pubic bone. Thoreena screamed. A thin line of blood welled the length of the incision. At some points large red drops began to form. I used a boiled rag to clean away the blood to see my next pass with the knife.
I estimated I had already cut through a couple of layers of skin. What lay deeper? There must be fat and muscle and God knew what else. As I began my second pass with the knife, Thoreena screamed again and passed out. It was a blessing because now she was oblivious to pain. I continued to cut.
I don't know how many passes I made with that terrible knife. I do remember being astonished at the depth of the incision and the amount of blood that seeped from the wound and gathered in a puddle on the floor. My attempts to staunch the flow were futile so I gave up and continued to cut more vigorously with the knife. Suddenly the incision spread apart by itself. Through the gore, I could discern the head of a baby.
I spread the incision further apart with my hands and looked inside: there it was -- a tiny head covered with thin blond hair, a small body with long legs and tiny feet and arms with tiny fists. I reached into the cavity and lifted out a beautiful baby girl. She was still attached to the umbilical cord; the placenta remained inside Thoreena. The baby didn't seem to be breathing so I stuck my finger in her mouth to check for obstructions, as Thoreena had instructed me. Her mouth was clear.
I held her upside down by her tiny feet and slapped her soundly on her behind. Suddenly the quiet room was filled with the screams of an indignant newborn. The cries brought tears to my eyes. I was a father and Thoreena a mother! It was a miracle. I cleaned up the child as best I could with boiled rags and then lay her in her mother's quiescent arms. The child stopped crying immediately.
I lifted the umbilical cord and placenta from the Thoreena's stomach and placed them close to child and mother. Thoreena had warned me not to cut the umbilical cord right away, as this could kill the baby.
I sat back on my haunches to consider my next move. The wound had to be closed before Thoreena bled to death. I knew I would have to sew her together with deer sinew. I threw one of the bones Thoreena had used as a needle to make our buckskin clothing into a pot of boiling water. I wasn't sure if I could boil the sinew without causing it to lose strength. I waited anxiously for the bone to become sterilized in the boiling cauldron. Finally, I threw a length of sinew into the water. It seemed to withstand the heat. I fished the bone and sinew out of the water and contemplated the task before me.
The ragged gash in Thoreena's belly was awful to contemplate. I started to close the incision by poking a hole through the skin on one side of her navel. I threaded a length of sinew through the hole and continued to work my way down the cut, pulling the two sides of flesh together as I went. When I reached the pelvic bone, the flow of blood ceased. I cleaned the stitched wound and sat back to examine my work. It was not a masterful job. Thoreena would have a jagged six-inch scar from her navel to her pelvis for the rest of her life.
I lay down exhausted beside my wife and our newborn child. Before I passed out, I remembered the umbilical cord. I cut the cord with the knife. Then I lay down again and fell asleep.
I was awakened by the screaming of our new daughter. The child was hungry and Thoreena had not awoken. What to feed a newborn? Fish, deer, grouse? We had no milk, except for the mother's milk stored in Thoreena's full breasts.
I put my mouth close to Thoreena's ear and whispered: "Thoreena, Thoreena. Wake up. Your daughter is hungry." Thoreena stirred and opened her eyes.
"Hardy, I hurt. I hurt so much. What happened? Where am I? Who's crying?"
"Thoreena, I have news. We have a beautiful baby daughter. She looks just like you."
"Where is she, Hardy. I can't see her."
I lifted our daughter and held her close to Thoreena.
"My god! She's radiant...but I think she looks more like you, Hardy."
"Radiant is hardly a word to describe a man."
"Perhaps. But radiant she is, Hardy."
I laughed and hugged my wife and our new daughter. I had never felt such joy. Maybe God's radiance was upon us. Shadow crept close and began to lick my face. He sniffed at the new child and licked her face. Suddenly the baby stopped crying.
"I think she likes you, Shadow."
Shadow stared at the child and gave his short, happy bark.
"Put the baby on my chest, Hardy. I'm going to breast feed her now."
"Are you sure you can manage. You must be in terrible pain."
"When it comes to childbearing, women are always stronger than men. Give me Hilda and you lie down and rest."
Hilda, I thought as I settled beside my wife and child. That was the name we had decided on if the child was a girl. It seemed like a million years since we had left the Pointe.
I knew we would have to return as soon as possible. Thoreena needed a doctor. I was worried about the amount of blood she had lost and the likelihood that the incision would become infected. I would have to build a travois to drag Thoreena across the ice back to civilization. Such were my thoughts as I lay on the straw mattress and watched Thoreena feed our hungry child. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. After a short time, I fell into a fitful sleep.
To Chapter Thirty-seven
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