Part 61 (1/2)

”Marthona, do you know where her birthing blanket is? I think she's getting close,” Zelandoni said.

”So soon? I didn't think it would go so quickly, especially since she seemed to be having so much trouble in the beginning,” Proleva said, putting her infant down to sleep on her blanket.

”But she does seem to have it under control now,” Marthona said. ”I'll get the birthing blanket. Is it where you showed me before, Ayla?”

”Yes,” she answered quickly, feeling another muscle-clenching, all-encompa.s.sing convulsion coming on. When it was over, Zelandoni directed Proleva and Folara to spread the leather birthing blanket, marked with drawings and symbols, on the floor, then beckoned to Marthona.

”It's time to help her up,” she said. Then to Ayla, ”You need to get up and let the pull of the Great Earth Mother help the baby out. Can you get up?”

”Yes,” she said between panting breaths. She had been bearing down hard with each pain, and felt an urge to push again, but was trying to hold back for a moment. ”I think so.”

They all helped Ayla to her feet and led her to the birthing blanket. Proleva showed her the squatting position to take, then she got on one side of her while Folara supported her other side. Marthona was in front, smiling and offering moral support. Zelandoni got behind her and clasped the young woman to her ma.s.sive breast, wrapping her arms around her, above the bulge of her stomach.

Ayla felt enveloped by the softness and warmth of the huge woman; it was comforting to lean back on her. She felt like Mother, like all mothers combined in one, like the soft bosom of the Earth itself. But there was something else, too. Enormous strength lay hidden underneath the mounds of flesh. Ayla felt sure this woman could display every mood of Mother Earth Herself, from the gentleness of a warm summer day to the fury of a driving blizzard. If she felt so moved, she could lash out with the devastating power of a raging storm, or comfort and nourish like a soft mist.

”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 pus.h.!.+” Zelandoni said.

Ayla took a deep breath and bore down as hard as she could. She felt the donier helping her, pus.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sage 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 ma.s.s of b.l.o.o.d.y 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 ent.i.ty, 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.

38.

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 in spite of the rea.s.suring words that she would find some deformity. ”She is perfect. Did you ever see such a beautiful baby, Marthona?”

The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this one, the daughter of her son's hearth, was no less beautiful than her own had been.

”The delivery wasn't very hard at all, Zelandoni,” Ayla said when the donier came and looked at them both. ”You helped a lot, but it wasn't really so hard. I'm so glad she's a girl. Look, she's trying to find my breast.” Ayla helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. ”Can Jondalar come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don't you, Marthona?”

”He can come soon,” Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and wrapped some fresh absorbent leather between her legs. ”There was no tearing, Ayla, no damage. Only the bleeding to cleanse. It was a good delivery. Do you have a name for her?”

”Yes, I've been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to choose the name for my baby,” Ayla said.

”Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and exchange it for this,” she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into a bundle around the afterbirth. ”Then I will take this out and bury it, before the spirit life still remaining in the afterbirth tries to seek a home close to the life it once held. I must do it quickly, then I will tell Jondalar to come in.”

”I've decided to call her...” Ayla began.

”No! Don't say it out loud, just whisper it to me,” Zelandoni said.

As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admiring the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and relaxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been exhausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelandoni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks in red and black paint.

”Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii,” Zelandoni said.

Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. ”Jondalar!” she said. He knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.

”How are you, Ayla?”

”I'm fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought it would be. And see the baby?” she said as she unwrapped the blanket so he could see. ”She's perfect!”

”You got the girl you wanted,” he said, looking at the tiny newborn and feeling a little awed. ”She's so little. And look, she even has tiny fingernails.” The thought of a woman giving birth to a complete new human being suddenly overwhelmed him. ”What have you named your daughter, Ayla?”

She looked at Zelandoni. ”Can I tell him?”

”Yes, it's safe now,” she said.

”I've named our daughter Jonayla, after both you and me, Jondalar, because she came from both of us. She is your daughter, too.”

”Jonayla. I like that name. Jonayla,” he said.

Marthona liked the name, too. She and Proleva smiled indulgently at Ayla. It was not uncommon for new mothers to try to rea.s.sure their mates that their children came from their spirits. Although Ayla had not said ”spirit,” they were sure they understood what she meant. Zelandoni wasn't as sure. Ayla tended to say exactly what she meant. Jondalar had no doubt. He knew exactly what she meant.

It would be nice if it was true, he thought as he looked at the tiny little girl. Exposed to the cool air without her covers, she was beginning to wake up.

”She is beautiful. She's going to look just like you, Ayla. I can see it already,” he said.

”She looks like you, too, Jondalar. Would you like to hold her?”