A Land to Call Home by Lauraine Snelling

entire being was focused on the smaller twin before her.
    Dear Lord, let her live. Let her live. Fill her with your strength and spirit that she may live and breathe and grow in grace .
    She stopped the litany of beseeching and asked, “Have you thought of names yet?”
    “Ja, we will name this one after Kaaren’s mother, Sonja, but I think we should change it to Sophie to sound more American.”
    “And this one?”
    “We had only chosen one name. We really didn’t believe there would be two.”
    “I think Grace. For it is by God’s grace she is still living.” And only His grace will keep her through the hours and days ahead . But she didn’t say the rest, only wove it into the prayer that spiraled heavenward like the incense of old.
    “Ja, that is a lovely name.” Kaaren shifted the now sleeping infant to her shoulder and patted the back that lay smaller than her hand. “Do you think she can nurse now?”
    “I pray to God that she can.” Ingeborg looked up to catch the slight nod from Metiz.
    Taking the flannel square she had draped over the back of the chair to heat from the stove, she wrapped her precious charge and carried her to her mother.
    “Here.” Lars took the sleeping baby and cuddled her in his arms so Ingeborg could help Kaaren settle the other. But when they put Grace to Kaaren’s breast, she didn’t begin to suckle.
    “What do we do?” Kaaren raised stricken eyes, seeking the answer on Ingeborg’s face.
    I don’t know! God, what do we do? Ingeborg’s mind raced, searching for any memory that would help them, any thought, any story she’d heard. Nothing. Why hadn’t she listened more closely when the women gathered and talked of childbirthing?
    “Can she swallow if we get some in her mouth?” Lars knelt by the bed, one hand clutching the bundle he’d secreted back in his shirt front and the other touching the baby’s head like a benediction.
    “We’ll never know till we try” Ingeborg looked up at Kaaren. “Can you bring some of your milk out with your fingers?”
    “I never have, but I can try.” A smile tipped one corner of her mouth. The gray of utter exhaustion tinged her face and painteddark circles under her eyes. With shaking fingers, she managed to squeeze out a few drops, but they missed the baby’s mouth, landing on her cheek.
    Ingeborg scooped the precious fluid up with her finger and rubbed it against Grace’s lips. Please God, help her to drink, You of the life-giving water, make this baby drink .
    The tiny mouth opened and closed, and Grace turned her face toward her mother’s breast. Kaaren continued her efforts to get Grace to nurse in this manner.
    Ingeborg sighed. She stood erect and blinked her eyes, trying to clear the grit from them.
    “Look,” Metiz whispered. “She drinks.”
    Sure enough, little Grace’s cheeks dented in as she swallowed, suckled, and swallowed again.
    “Praise be to God.” Lars sat down on the pole that made up the side of the bed. The screech of it sounded loud in the stillness as all held their breath, waiting for the next sign that Grace was feeding.
    When it came, they all exhaled in a whoosh of relief.
    “She stronger than she look.” Metiz rubbed her bent fingers together. “Good. I make food now.”
    “I will do that,” Ingeborg said with a weary smile. “I know where everything is.”
    Metiz nodded. “Make tea for Kaaren.” She gestured to the deerskin pouch she wore at her waist, where she always stored her small cache of herbs and medicinals.
    “I should go do the chores.” Lars rose, again setting the pole to creaking the ropes holding the mattress. The rooster crowed from the barn and a cow bellered. “The animals are hungry too.”
    “No, you keep that baby warm. Haakan will send the boys to do your chores or come himself.” Ingeborg handed Lars a baby quilt. “Wrap this into a sling to keep her steady.”
    “She’s going to suffocate in there.”
    “Not if do right.” Metiz took the quilt and