Just Myrto by Laurie Gray Page B

don’t know that she ever owned one,” Lamprocles replied. “And if Father has it, I’ve never seen it.”
    â€œI’m sure you never looked for it,” I teased.
    â€œAnd I’m sure I would remember a chair with a big hole in the center of it whether I was looking for it or not!” Lamprocles shot back.
    I noticed my back and shoulders were growing stiff from sitting for such a long time. As I struggled to my feet, Lamprocles set the book aside and jumped up to help me.
    â€œI just need to walk around a bit,” I said, grasping my shoulder with my hand and stretching my neck.
    â€œThat’s good,” Lamprocles nodded. “Walking is good. So is massage. Would you like me to massage your neck and shoulders?”
    I laughed. “I know, I know. A healthy, well-nourished mother-to-be should take regular walks and receive relaxing massages to avoid complications during delivery.” I continued walking andstretching. “I’ll ask Leda or Socrates to massage my belly and back with warm olive oil when we return this evening.”
    â€œThe baby will be less likely to drop in a breech position.” Lamprocles reminded me. The larger I got, the more serious Lamprocles became, but the more inclined I was toward laughter.
    The text completely entranced Lamprocles, but his focus remained on my body and the child inside me. He wanted to be sure we knew what to do under all circumstance. Regardless of the complications, he was determined to learn every appropriate response to save me and the baby.
    According to Theano, first births are the most difficult because women are often bound up with fear. By the second birth, a woman at least knows in her own heart that she can survive. I suppose I should have already known that having survived my own birth and seeing the multitudes of people in the world. It just never occurred to me to face the fear and release it rather than resisting it and encouraging it to grow stronger.
    As we continued, I began to think Lamprocles was more afraid than I. All that changed late one afternoon as we were nearing completion of the book. The anticipation pushed me to read more and talk less.
    â€œYou’re going too fast,” Lamprocles complained when I refused to pause after every word. “Let me read today.”
    Lamprocles clearly did not want the book to end. I lay down in the grass and propped my head on his satchel as a pillow.
Why am I in such a hurry?
As I relaxed and listened to Lamprocles’ many commentaries as he read, I realized that it wasn’t the book I wanted to finish. I was finally ready for my child to be born. As I drifted along, lost in my own thoughts of holding and nurturing the baby, Lamprocles gave a shout that nearly sent me into labor.
    â€œMyrto!” he exclaimed. “Listen to this: ‘A midwife must be a person of sympathetic disposition, but need not have borne a child.’”
    I sat up just enough to see him. Still leaning back on my elbows and feeling totally bewildered, I shook my head. “So,” I paused trying to grasp his meaning. “A midwife doesn’t actually have to be a mother herself as long as she’s sympathetic.”
    Lamprocles was on his feet, pacing excitedly. “Not a woman!” he proclaimed. “A person! A sympathetic person!” He was jumping around so much I couldn’t follow his body or his thoughts.
    â€œMyrto, if you do away with the requirement of having personally given birth, a midwife could be a man!” He was dancing around me in pure delight. “I know that Father has always considered himself a philosophical midwife of men, helping to labor through their thoughts and give birth to great ideas, but I always thought that no man could truly, literally be a midwife.”
    He stopped dancing and sat beside me. He reached out his hand and lifted me gently up to face him. I nodded as his words sank in. “Socrates and I