“Push, Hannah! One more good push!” The young woman on the blanket is drenched in sweat, and near fainting with fatigue, but she manages one more hard push, and out slithers a small, bloody bundle.
My mother is the village midwife. This year, I am fourteen, and old enough to help her, as she makes her rounds in the countryside all around our village. It is a difficult, challenging task, but the joys are worth it.
“Is the fire ready, Ruthie?” Mama asks quietly. “I don’t think we’ll need it, but best to have it…”