Read Online A Flicker of Light by Roberta Kagan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roberta Kagan
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“Mama, I think it’s time. The baby is coming.”
Sie gland woke im m ediately and helped Petra back to bed. Then she sat by her side and waited while Klaus dressed swif tly. He ran outside, and hitch ing the old horse to the cart, he headed over to the home of the woman who would help Petra with childbirth. Klaus had never been an emotional man, but he had grown to care for the young, pregnant girl with the gentle ways and sweet, appreciative smile. Petra warmed his heart, bringing laughter into the house, and he could not help but be happy for all the pleasure she gave to his wife.
When Klaus returned with the midwife, they found Siegland seated beside Petra, holding her hand. The midwife, Rita VanStrom , a woman of more than sixty years, wore a neatly-fitting dark brown dress and her hair in a tight gray bun. With a hard look she sent Klaus out of the room. Next she examined Petra and judged the situation. Her small, sharp eyes checked to see how far Petra had dilated. As a veteran childbirth assistant , she assessed that it would be a while before the baby opened its eyes to survey its new surroundings. Rita VanStrom pursed her thin lips as she studied the girl. Petra’s hips appeared small. That could make for a difficult delivery.
“ Siegland , get me a pot of boiled water, several towels, and a needle and thread. If you ha ve alcohol, it would be helpful, ” t he midwife ordered , taking charge.
It was clear to Siegland that VanStrom was the expert , so she obeyed and gathered the requested items.
For fourteen hours, Petra labored. Lines of perspiration ran down her face as Siegland sat beside her, wiping them away with cool, damp washcloths. Siegland never strayed from Petra’s side, not even for a moment to relieve herself . Her face was pinched with worry as she watched the girl who’d become like a daughter to her suffer . Petra grew weak, but just as she began to sob, afraid she could endure no more, the baby began to crown. The midwife saw by the way that Petra’s breathing had changed that the time had arrived.
“Ready now , when you get the next contraction, you push, understand?” VanStrom directed Petra. She spoke with the confidence of a well-trained general.
Nodding, exhausted, and questioning how she would find the strength to push the baby out, Petra held tight to the towel that Siegland gave her.
“Hold this. Squeeze it and get ready,” Sie gland said, perspiration beading on her forehead.
With a wave of pain, the contraction seized Petra. As the gripping agony shot through her, she pushed. Spent at the end of the contraction , she lay back on the bed, her face bathed in a film of sweat.
“Again. Ready? Here it comes,” t he midwife instructed.
With all of her strength Petra pushed. A dribble of sweat tickled down her back, and to Petra it felt as if the baby might be the size of a watermelon. The veins on her neck stood out like ropes, and her face turned a deep shade of red . After half an hour of continuous pushi ng, she gripped Siegland’s hand, “I can’t do this. I think I will die. The baby is not coming, and I don’t know what to do.”
Sie gland fought the tears. As she gazed at Petra , she realized how small the girl actually was. Terror came over the old er woman as she considered the possibility that Petra might not survive.
A maddening desperati on engulfed Petra as the torture of another contraction took hold of her , sending shooting pains, like lighting, through her body. S he cried out as she once again began to push. The pressure became overwhelming, and suddenly Petra felt relief as the tender skin of her womanhood tore apart , giving way as the baby came
Sie gland woke im m ediately and helped Petra back to bed. Then she sat by her side and waited while Klaus dressed swif tly. He ran outside, and hitch ing the old horse to the cart, he headed over to the home of the woman who would help Petra with childbirth. Klaus had never been an emotional man, but he had grown to care for the young, pregnant girl with the gentle ways and sweet, appreciative smile. Petra warmed his heart, bringing laughter into the house, and he could not help but be happy for all the pleasure she gave to his wife.
When Klaus returned with the midwife, they found Siegland seated beside Petra, holding her hand. The midwife, Rita VanStrom , a woman of more than sixty years, wore a neatly-fitting dark brown dress and her hair in a tight gray bun. With a hard look she sent Klaus out of the room. Next she examined Petra and judged the situation. Her small, sharp eyes checked to see how far Petra had dilated. As a veteran childbirth assistant , she assessed that it would be a while before the baby opened its eyes to survey its new surroundings. Rita VanStrom pursed her thin lips as she studied the girl. Petra’s hips appeared small. That could make for a difficult delivery.
“ Siegland , get me a pot of boiled water, several towels, and a needle and thread. If you ha ve alcohol, it would be helpful, ” t he midwife ordered , taking charge.
It was clear to Siegland that VanStrom was the expert , so she obeyed and gathered the requested items.
For fourteen hours, Petra labored. Lines of perspiration ran down her face as Siegland sat beside her, wiping them away with cool, damp washcloths. Siegland never strayed from Petra’s side, not even for a moment to relieve herself . Her face was pinched with worry as she watched the girl who’d become like a daughter to her suffer . Petra grew weak, but just as she began to sob, afraid she could endure no more, the baby began to crown. The midwife saw by the way that Petra’s breathing had changed that the time had arrived.
“Ready now , when you get the next contraction, you push, understand?” VanStrom directed Petra. She spoke with the confidence of a well-trained general.
Nodding, exhausted, and questioning how she would find the strength to push the baby out, Petra held tight to the towel that Siegland gave her.
“Hold this. Squeeze it and get ready,” Sie gland said, perspiration beading on her forehead.
With a wave of pain, the contraction seized Petra. As the gripping agony shot through her, she pushed. Spent at the end of the contraction , she lay back on the bed, her face bathed in a film of sweat.
“Again. Ready? Here it comes,” t he midwife instructed.
With all of her strength Petra pushed. A dribble of sweat tickled down her back, and to Petra it felt as if the baby might be the size of a watermelon. The veins on her neck stood out like ropes, and her face turned a deep shade of red . After half an hour of continuous pushi ng, she gripped Siegland’s hand, “I can’t do this. I think I will die. The baby is not coming, and I don’t know what to do.”
Sie gland fought the tears. As she gazed at Petra , she realized how small the girl actually was. Terror came over the old er woman as she considered the possibility that Petra might not survive.
A maddening desperati on engulfed Petra as the torture of another contraction took hold of her , sending shooting pains, like lighting, through her body. S he cried out as she once again began to push. The pressure became overwhelming, and suddenly Petra felt relief as the tender skin of her womanhood tore apart , giving way as the baby came
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