The Amish Midwife by Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould Page A

fathom diet was a problem for most Amish women.
    Sally was six months along and planned to give birth here in the
Daadi Haus
. Her mother would come from Ohio after the baby was born and stay a few days, but she had seven children who were still at home and could only spare a short time. That was one of the reasons Ruth had come to stay.
    “Will you be delivering my baby?” Sally asked Marta.
    “Of course.”
    “But I heard you weren’t able to deliver Barbara’s last night—”
    “Oh, that was a minor complication. And Lexie was able to help me with that.”
    Sally stood. “Well, God provided, didn’t He?” She called Ruth away from the window and asked her to go tell John that Marta had arrived. Then to Marta she said, “He wants to listen to the baby’s heart too.” We followed her down the hall as the front door banged shut. “I already ordered the birth kit you recommended. It arrived last week.” Sally was so small that from behind she looked about the same age as Ruth.
    It seemed as if the little house had recently been remodeled, and the scent of fresh paint lingered. The simple molding was all new and unmarred, but as we turned into the bedroom it was obvious that all the furniture was hand-me-downs. An antique bed, barely a double, nearly filled the small room. On the nightstand was a cardboard box, most likely the birthing kit. It would contain a plastic sheet, bed pads, a delivery towel, and other items. Some of Sophie’s clients ordered kits for each of their births, while others gathered the items themselves. I was sure it was the same with the Amish.
    As I took Sally’s blood pressure, a young man bounded into the room, his hat in his hand. His hair wasn’t as bright as Ezra’s, but it was definitely red, as was his sparsely grown beard. His brown eyes were cast down, and he nodded shyly to Marta and barely met my eyes as I was introduced. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Sally as she stretched out on the bed. I recorded her blood pressure in her chart. It was 110/80.
Perfect
.
    “Did Ruth come back with you?” Sally asked her husband.
    His voice had a lilt to it and was barely audible. “She’s sitting on the porch with
Mammi
.”
    “Most likely spying on Ezra.”
    John blushed.
    Marta handed me the fetoscope, and I found the baby’s galloping heartbeat. I let John listen first and he grinned. Sally patiently waited her turn and then squeezed her husband’s hand as she listened. Next I measured Sally’s fundal height and recorded it in her chart too. Twenty-five centimeters. For looking so small she was right on target for twenty-four weeks.
    John excused himself and said he needed to return to work. Sally sat up, refastened the pins at her waist, and then walked with us out to the porch. “Ruth,” she called. “It’s time to bake our bread.”
    The girl waved goodbye to Alice and the twins and skipped across the grass. She smiled at me as she passed.
    Alice stood, lifting one of the little girls onto her hip. She had a black cape over her dress now. The sun passed behind a cloud and the air grew chilly.
    “Marta,” she said. “Did Will reach you?” The woman’s voice was soft and calm, but something about her tone gave me pause, especially when I noticed Marta’s subtle but distinct reaction, her face paling at the mere mention of the man’s name. “He had a question for you.”
    Marta shook her head, her eyes giving away nothing. She opened her mouth to speak, and then she hesitated, handing me her bag and motioning toward her car. Apparently, I was being dismissed just as things were getting interesting.
    “I’m seeing Hannah tomorrow,” Marta said to Alice, turning her back to me as I moved away. “Will he be working at the greenhouses?”
    “Yes, he should be.”
    “Good. I will speak to him then.” Though her words soundedmatter-of-fact, the tone of her voice was anything but. “How is Christy doing?”
    I walked slowly, listening.
    “She’s here today