this one all right?” I asked, holding it away from me. “It’s about to cry.”
Lillian didn’t even look up from her ministrations. “Hold it close, Miss Julia, so it hear yo’ heart beatin’ an’ it be all right.”
Well, they Lord, I thought, is that all it takes? I cradled the baby a little closer, not wanting to crush it, and felt it nestle in.
Hazel Marie was panting by this time, her arms outstretched with fingers clutching at the plastic. Poor thing, she was going through it all again, and my stomach cramped up along with hers. It was almost more than I could take, but I didn’t dare stand up and try to walk with a baby in my arms. So I sat there and watched and listened as Hazel Marie labored and sweated and moaned and bit her lip and struggled to bring another infant into the world.
“You can scream if you want to, Hazel Marie,” Etta Mae said. “It’s all right.”
“No,” she gasped. “Lloyd might hear.”
And right then I realized again how much depth there was to Hazel Marie, in spite of her affinity for heavy makeup, short skirts, and sky-high heels. She had an inner strength that was seeing her through this ordeal as it had a few other trials and tribulations along the way. Of all the occasions in the world when a woman has license to scream and yell her head off, this was it. Yet she was concerned about disturbing her son.
I wondered if she was giving Mr. Pickens a thought, and if she was, if she still figured he was worth what she was going through. He was undoubtedly piled up in bed at a Motel 6, snoring away without a care in the world, while Hazel Marie was here paying the price. Although there’d been times in my life when I’d regretted having no children, what I was witnessing made me glad I was past my prime and in no danger of paying that particular price.
Suddenly with another gush and a muted cry from Hazel Marie, Lillian said, “I got it, I got it. Hold on now, we jus’ about done.”
I could see her wiping another little naked black-haired baby, patting its back, then beginning to wrap it in the throw that Etta Mae had warmed. “You better cry now,” Lillian said, quickly unwrapping it and dangling it upside down. “Lemme hear you cry,” she urged as she gave it a right smart slap on the back.
The baby gasped, then let out a quavering wail, its little arms waving in the air and its body trembling all over.
“Is it all right?” Hazel Marie cried, craning her head to see what was going on. “Is it breathing?”
“It breathin’, all right,” Lillian said, smiling, as the baby took a deep breath and let us know in no uncertain terms that it had emerged unscathed. “An’ this one got a real set of lungs on it. Jus’ listen to it. You got another fine girl, an’ Mr. Pickens gonna be struttin’ ’round here so bad that none of us be able to stand him.” She and Etta Mae went through the string and scissors procedure again, then Lillian wrapped the infant snugly and laid it in Hazel Marie’s arms.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, utterly overcome with what we’d accomplished. Two babies delivered alive and well in the midst of a ferocious storm. It was more than I could take in, but it was over and as far as I could tell, no harm done at all. This would be something to talk about at the next book club.
I sat up and asked, “Can we get her on the sofa now and wrap her up?”
“No’m, not yet,” Lillian said, her hand kneading Hazel Marie’s abdomen. “Miss Etta Mae, we gonna need a pan of some kind. Run get that Dutch oven outta the kitchen.”
I was stunned. “Don’t tell me there’s a third one in there!”
“No’m, we jus’ got to finish up here,” Lillian said.
Etta Mae returned with the Dutch oven, and she and Lillian bent over Hazel Marie again, delivering something else that I didn’t see and didn’t care to see. The baby stirred in my arms and one little arm flailed out of the blanket as it started kicking. I
Lillian didn’t even look up from her ministrations. “Hold it close, Miss Julia, so it hear yo’ heart beatin’ an’ it be all right.”
Well, they Lord, I thought, is that all it takes? I cradled the baby a little closer, not wanting to crush it, and felt it nestle in.
Hazel Marie was panting by this time, her arms outstretched with fingers clutching at the plastic. Poor thing, she was going through it all again, and my stomach cramped up along with hers. It was almost more than I could take, but I didn’t dare stand up and try to walk with a baby in my arms. So I sat there and watched and listened as Hazel Marie labored and sweated and moaned and bit her lip and struggled to bring another infant into the world.
“You can scream if you want to, Hazel Marie,” Etta Mae said. “It’s all right.”
“No,” she gasped. “Lloyd might hear.”
And right then I realized again how much depth there was to Hazel Marie, in spite of her affinity for heavy makeup, short skirts, and sky-high heels. She had an inner strength that was seeing her through this ordeal as it had a few other trials and tribulations along the way. Of all the occasions in the world when a woman has license to scream and yell her head off, this was it. Yet she was concerned about disturbing her son.
I wondered if she was giving Mr. Pickens a thought, and if she was, if she still figured he was worth what she was going through. He was undoubtedly piled up in bed at a Motel 6, snoring away without a care in the world, while Hazel Marie was here paying the price. Although there’d been times in my life when I’d regretted having no children, what I was witnessing made me glad I was past my prime and in no danger of paying that particular price.
Suddenly with another gush and a muted cry from Hazel Marie, Lillian said, “I got it, I got it. Hold on now, we jus’ about done.”
I could see her wiping another little naked black-haired baby, patting its back, then beginning to wrap it in the throw that Etta Mae had warmed. “You better cry now,” Lillian said, quickly unwrapping it and dangling it upside down. “Lemme hear you cry,” she urged as she gave it a right smart slap on the back.
The baby gasped, then let out a quavering wail, its little arms waving in the air and its body trembling all over.
“Is it all right?” Hazel Marie cried, craning her head to see what was going on. “Is it breathing?”
“It breathin’, all right,” Lillian said, smiling, as the baby took a deep breath and let us know in no uncertain terms that it had emerged unscathed. “An’ this one got a real set of lungs on it. Jus’ listen to it. You got another fine girl, an’ Mr. Pickens gonna be struttin’ ’round here so bad that none of us be able to stand him.” She and Etta Mae went through the string and scissors procedure again, then Lillian wrapped the infant snugly and laid it in Hazel Marie’s arms.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, utterly overcome with what we’d accomplished. Two babies delivered alive and well in the midst of a ferocious storm. It was more than I could take in, but it was over and as far as I could tell, no harm done at all. This would be something to talk about at the next book club.
I sat up and asked, “Can we get her on the sofa now and wrap her up?”
“No’m, not yet,” Lillian said, her hand kneading Hazel Marie’s abdomen. “Miss Etta Mae, we gonna need a pan of some kind. Run get that Dutch oven outta the kitchen.”
I was stunned. “Don’t tell me there’s a third one in there!”
“No’m, we jus’ got to finish up here,” Lillian said.
Etta Mae returned with the Dutch oven, and she and Lillian bent over Hazel Marie again, delivering something else that I didn’t see and didn’t care to see. The baby stirred in my arms and one little arm flailed out of the blanket as it started kicking. I
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