The Shelters of Stone by Jean M. Auel
Ayla got up, thought about sitting down on a floor cushion, changed her mind and walked to her cooking area, had a sip of tea, and felt another contraction. She wondered if she should lie down again. This seemed to be happening faster than she expected.
Zelandoni checked her again, giving her a closer examination, then she looked at the young woman keenly. “This is not your first baby, is it?”
Ayla waited until a spasm passed before she answered. “No, it’s not my first. I had a son,” she said quietly.
Zelandoni wondered why he wasn’t with her. Had he died? If he was stillborn, or if he died shortly after birth, that would be important to know. “What happened to him?” she asked.
“I had to leave him behind. I gave him to my sister, Uba. He still lives with the Clan, at least I hope he does.”
“The delivery was very difficult, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I almost died giving birth to him,” Ayla said in a flat, controlled tone, trying not to show any emotion about it, but the donier detected fear in her eyes.
“How old is he, Ayla? Or rather, how old were you when you had him?” Zelandoni wanted to know.
“I could not yet count my twelfth year,” Ayla said, going into another labor pain. They were coming faster now.
“And now?” Zelandoni asked when it was over.
“Now I can count nineteen, twenty after this winter. I’m old to be having babies.”
“No, you’re not, but you were very young when you had your first. Too young. No wonder you had such a difficult time of it. You say you left him with your clan.” She paused, thinking about how to ask the next question. “Your son, is he one of ‘mixed spirits’?” the woman finally inquired.
Ayla didn’t answer at first. She looked at Zelandoni and received as direct a look back, then suddenly she almost doubled up with a contraction. “Yes,” she said when it was over, looking scared.
“I think that also contributed to your difficulty From what I understand, children of mixed spirits can be very difficult for women to deliver. It’s something about their heads, I’m told. They are shaped differently, and too big. They don’t give as much,” Zelandoni said. “This baby may not be as hard for you, Ayla. You’re doing fine, you know.”
The donier had seen her tense up with the last pain. Tensing up like that will only make it worse, she thought, but I’m afraid she’s remembering a terrible delivery with her first. I wish she’d told me. I might have been able to help her. I wish Marthona would come. I think she needs someone paying close attention to her right now, but I would like to make something to help her relax. Maybe talking would take her mind off her fear. “Would you tell me about your son?”
“At first they thought he was deformed, and would be a burden to the clan,” Ayla began. “He couldn’t even hold his own head up in the beginning, but he grew strong. Everyone came to love him, Grod even made him a spear of his own, just his size. And he could run so fast, even as young as he was.”
Ayla was smiling with tears in her eyes at the memory, and it gave the donier a surprising insight. She suddenly understood how much Ayla had loved the child, how proud she was of him, mixed spirits or not. When she said she had given him away to her “sister,” Zelandoni thought it might have been a relief to find someone who would take him.
Some of the zelandonia still talked about Brukeval’s grandmother. Though it was never mentioned in public, most of them felt certain that the daughter to whom she gave birth was a child of mixed spirits. No one really wanted to take her after her mother died, and Brukeval suffered the same fate. He had the look of his mother, perhaps not as strong, but he was mixed, too, Zelandoni was convinced, though she would never admit to it aloud, especially not to him.
Was it possible that Ayla would be prone to attracting their spirits since she was raised by them? Could this one be mixed, too? And if it was, what then? The wisest course might be to quietly end its life before it began. It would be easy enough, and no one would know it wasn’t stillborn. It would probably save everyone heartache, even the baby. It would be a shame to have another child in the Cave who was unwanted and unloved, like Brukeval and his mother.
But, the donier thought, if Ayla loved her first child, wouldn’t she love this one, too? It’s amazing to see her around Echozar, I think she genuinely likes him, and he’s very comfortable around her. Maybe it would work out, it would depend on Jondalar.
“Jondalar told me your labor had begun, Ayla,” Marthona said, coming into the dwelling. “He took pains to say that it was just beginning and I shouldn’t hurry, but he almost pushed me out, he was so eager for me to come.”
“It’s just as well that you did, Marthona. I’d like to make something for her,” Zelandoni said.
“To hasten delivery?” Marthona asked. “First ones can be so long in coming.” She smiled at Ayla.,
“No,” Zelandoni said, pausing thoughtfully before she continued. “Just something to help her relax. She’s progressing quite well, faster than I thought she would, but she’s very tense, apprehensive about this birth, I believe.”
Ayla noticed that the healer did not correct Marthona’s assumption that this was her first child. From the beginning, she had sensed that Zelandoni knew many things, many secrets that she kept to herself. Maybe it would still be best if she kept the knowledge of her son to herself, except for Zelandoni. She could talk to her about him.
There was a tap at the entrance, but Proleva came in without waiting. “Jondalar said Ayla was in labor. Can I be of help?” she said. She was supporting a young infant on her back with a carrying blanket.
“Yes, you can,” Zelandoni said. She had assumed the right to allow access or not into the dwelling, and Ayla was grateful that she did. As she felt another pain coming on, the last thing she wanted to think about was who should be there. The healer noticed Ayla tensing up, beginning to fight the pain. It was obvious that she didn’t want to cry out, either. “You can sit with Ayla while Marthona gets some water boiling. I need to go get some special medicine.”
Zelandoni quickly left. She could move quite fast, in spite of her size, when she was so inclined. Folara was just approaching as the woman let the drape fall behind her.
“Can I go in, Zelandoni? I’d like to help, if I can,” she said.
The donier paused only a moment. “Yes, go ahead. You can help Proleva try to keep her calm,” she said, and hurried on.
When she returned, Ayla was thrashing around rather wildly, in the throes of another contraction, but she was still not crying out. Marthona and Proleva were on either side of her, holding a hand, looking worried. Folara was adding another hot stone to the water that had been heated, to keep it hot. Her expression matched her mother’s. There was fear in Ayla’s eyes, and relief at seeing the healer.
She hurried to the young woman. “It will be all right, Ayla. You are doing just fine, you just need to relax a little. I’m going to fix something for you, to help you get more comfortable,” Zelandoni said.
“What’s in it?” Ayla asked as the pain subsided.
Zelandoni looked at her closely. The question was asked not out of dread, but out of interest. It actually seemed to take her mind off her worry for a moment.
“Willow bark and raspberry leaf, primarily,” she said, hurrying to see if the water was boiling. “Plus a few linden flowers, and a very little thorn apple.”
Ayla was nodding. “Willow bark is a mild painkiller, raspberry leaf is especially relaxing during labor, linden flowers are a sweetener, and thorn apple—I think it’s what I call datura—it can stop pain and make you sleep, but might possibly stop the contractions. Just a little might be helpful, though,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” the donier said.
As she hurried to add the herbs and barks to the hot water Folara was tending, Zelandoni could see that letting Ayla get involved in her own treatment might be just as helpful as the medicines in getting her to relax, but considering how much she knew about medications, i
t would be foolish to try to keep anything from her. It took some time to let the medicinal tea steep, during which time Ayla had several more labor pains. When she finally brought it to her, Ayla was more than ready to take it, but she sat up and tasted the tea first, concentrating with her eyes closed. She nodded, then drank it.
“More raspberry leaf than willow bark, and just enough linden to cover the bitter taste of the datura … thorn apple,” Ayla said, lying back down to wait for the next paroxysm of labor.
For just an instant, Zelandoni felt a retort come to her mind, a sarcastic “Well, do you approve?” but she caught herself and then was surprised that she’d even thought of it. The experienced woman wasn’t used to having someone testing and commenting on her medicine, but wouldn’t she do the same? The young woman had not been criticizing, she was testing herself, Zelandoni realized. As the donier watched, she smiled inwardly, sure that she knew precisely what Ayla was doing, because she would do the same. Ayla was using herself to test the medicine, quietly checking her own responses, waiting to see how long the medication would take to work and how much effect it would have. And as the healer had guessed, that in itself was taking her mind off her fear and helping her to relax.
They all waited, speaking quietly. The birthing seemed to be going a little better for the young woman. Zelandoni didn’t know if it was because of the medicine or the lessening of her fear, probably both, but she was not thrashing around anymore. Instead Ayla was concentrating on exactly what she was feeling, mentally comparing this birth with her previous one, and realizing that this one did seem to be easier. She was following the course that she had observed in other women who were having a normal delivery. She had been there when Proleva gave birth, and now she smiled when the woman nursed her baby girl.
“Marthona, do you know where her birthing blanket is? I think she’s getting close,” Zelandoni said.
“So soon? I didn’t think it would go so quickly, especially since she seemed to be having so much trouble in the beginning,” Proleva said, putting her infant down to sleep on her blanket.
“But she does seem to have it under control now,” Marthona said. “I’ll get the birthing blanket. Is it where you showed me before, Ayla?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly, feeling another muscle-clenching, all-encompassing convulsion coming on. When it was over, Zelandoni directed Proleva and Folara to spread the leather birthing blanket, marked with drawings and symbols, on the floor, then beckoned to Marthona.
“It’s time to help her up,” she said. Then to Ayla, “You need to get up and let the pull of the Great Earth Mother help the baby out. Can you get up?”
“Yes,” she said between panting breaths. She had been bearing down hard with each pain, and felt an urge to push again, but was trying to hold back for a moment. “I think so.”
They all helped Ayla to her feet and led her to the birthing blanket. Proleva showed her the squatting position to take, then she got on one side of her while Folara supported her other side. Marthona was in front, smiling and offering moral support. Zelandoni got behind her and clasped the young woman to her massive breast, wrapping her arms around her, above the bulge of her stomach.
Ayla felt enveloped by the softness and warmth of the huge woman; it was comforting to lean back on her. She felt like Mother, like all mothers combined in one, like the soft bosom of the Earth itself. But there was something else, too. Enormous strength lay hidden underneath the mounds of flesh. Ayla felt sure this woman could display every mood of Mother Earth Herself, from the gentleness of a warm summer day to the fury of a driving blizzard. If she felt so moved, she could lash out with the devastating power of a raging storm, or comfort and nourish like a soft mist.
“Now, at the next pain, I want you to push,” Zelandoni said. The two women on either side of her were each holding a hand, giving her something to grip.
“I feel it coming,” Ayla said.
“Then push!” Zelandoni said.
Ayla took a deep breath and bore down as hard as she could. She felt the donier helping her, pushing down on the baby with her. A gush of warm water spilled on the blanket.
“Good. I was waiting for that,” Zelandoni said.
“I wondered when her waters were going to break,” Proleva said. “Mine seem to break so early, I’m almost dry by the time the baby comes. This is better. Here she goes again.”
“Now, again, push, Ayla,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla bore down again and felt movement.
“I can see the head,” Marthona said. “I’m ready to catch the baby.” She knelt down closer to Ayla, just as another strong contraction started. As Ayla took a deep breath and pushed.
“Here it comes!” Marthona said.
Ayla felt the passage of the head. The rest was easy. As the baby slid out, Marthona reached out and caught it.
Ayla looked down and saw the wet infant in Marthona’s arms, and smiled. Zelandoni smiled, too.
“One last push, Ayla, to get out the afterbirth,” Zelandoni said, helping her again. She pushed and watched a mass of bloody tissue fall on the birthing blanket.
Zelandoni let go of her and moved around to the front of the new mother. Proleva and Folara supported Ayla while Zelandoni took the baby, turned it over, and patted the tiny back. There were little hiccuping sounds. Zelandoni thumped the baby’s feet and watched the infant expel breath in a startle response, then breathe in the first gulp of life-giving air. There was a small crying sound, hardly more than a mewling at first, but it grew as the lungs became accustomed to sustaining life.
Marthona held the infant while the donier cleaned Ayla up a little, wiping away blood and fluid, then Proleva and Folara helped her back to the bed. Zelandoni tied a piece of sinew around the baby’s navel cord—at Ayla’s request it had been dyed red with ochre—to pinch it off and prevent bleeding from the still engorged tube. With a sharp flint blade she cut the cord between the tie and the afterbirth, separating the infant from the placenta that had provided nourishment and a place to grow until birth. Ayla’s infant was a separate entity, a unique and individual human being.
Marthona and Zelandoni cleaned the baby with a velvety soft rabbitskin that Ayla had made for the purpose. Marthona had a small blanket ready, again velvety soft, and so smooth, it felt like the baby’s skin. It was made from the hide of a nearly full-term deer foetus. Zelandoni had told Jondalar that it would be especially lucky for the child born to his hearth if he could secure such a hide for the birth, and he and his brother had gone out near the end of winter looking for a pregnant deer.
Ayla had helped him make the foetal deerskin into the supple leather blanket. He had always been amazed at the softness of her leathers, a skill he knew she had learned from the Clan. After working with her on one, he understood how much effort it took, even starting with a tender foetal skin. Zelandoni laid the baby on the blanket, then Marthona wrapped the newborn in it and brought the child to Ayla.
38
You should be pleased. She’s a perfect little girl,” Marthona said, giving the tiny bundle to her mother.
Ayla looked at the tiny likeness of herself. “She’s so beautiful!” She unwrapped the swaddling of soft skins and carefully examined her new daughter, half-fearful in spite of the reassuring words that she would find some deformity. “She is perfect. Did you ever see such a beautiful baby, Marthona?”
The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this one, the daughter of her son’s hearth, was no less beautiful than her own had been.
“The delivery wasn’t very hard at all, Zelandoni,” Ayla said when the donier came and looked at them both. “You helped a lot, but it wasn’t really so hard. I’m so glad she’s a girl. Look, she’s trying to find my breast.” Ayla helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. “Can Jondalar come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don’t you, Marthona?”
“He can come soon,” Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and wrapped some fresh abs
orbent leather between her legs. “There was no tearing, Ayla, no damage. Only the bleeding to cleanse. It was a good delivery. Do you have a name for her?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to choose the name for my baby,” Ayla said.
“Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and exchange it for this,” she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into a bundle around the afterbirth. “Then I will take this out and bury it, before the spirit life still remaining in the afterbirth tries to seek a home close to the life it once held. I must do it quickly, then I will tell Jondalar to come in.”
“I’ve decided to call her…” Ayla began.
“No! Don’t say it out loud, just whisper it to me,” Zelandoni said.
As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admiring the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and relaxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been exhausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelandoni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks in red and black paint.
“Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. “Jondalar!” she said. He knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.
“How are you, Ayla?”
“I’m fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought it would be. And see the baby?” she said as she unwrapped the blanket so he could see. “She’s perfect!”
“You got the girl you wanted,” he said, looking at the tiny newborn and feeling a little awed. “She’s so little. And look, she even has tiny fingernails.” The thought of a woman giving birth to a complete new human being suddenly overwhelmed him. “What have you named your daughter, Ayla?”
She looked at Zelandoni. “Can I tell him?”
“Yes, it’s safe now,” she said.
Zelandoni checked her again, giving her a closer examination, then she looked at the young woman keenly. “This is not your first baby, is it?”
Ayla waited until a spasm passed before she answered. “No, it’s not my first. I had a son,” she said quietly.
Zelandoni wondered why he wasn’t with her. Had he died? If he was stillborn, or if he died shortly after birth, that would be important to know. “What happened to him?” she asked.
“I had to leave him behind. I gave him to my sister, Uba. He still lives with the Clan, at least I hope he does.”
“The delivery was very difficult, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I almost died giving birth to him,” Ayla said in a flat, controlled tone, trying not to show any emotion about it, but the donier detected fear in her eyes.
“How old is he, Ayla? Or rather, how old were you when you had him?” Zelandoni wanted to know.
“I could not yet count my twelfth year,” Ayla said, going into another labor pain. They were coming faster now.
“And now?” Zelandoni asked when it was over.
“Now I can count nineteen, twenty after this winter. I’m old to be having babies.”
“No, you’re not, but you were very young when you had your first. Too young. No wonder you had such a difficult time of it. You say you left him with your clan.” She paused, thinking about how to ask the next question. “Your son, is he one of ‘mixed spirits’?” the woman finally inquired.
Ayla didn’t answer at first. She looked at Zelandoni and received as direct a look back, then suddenly she almost doubled up with a contraction. “Yes,” she said when it was over, looking scared.
“I think that also contributed to your difficulty From what I understand, children of mixed spirits can be very difficult for women to deliver. It’s something about their heads, I’m told. They are shaped differently, and too big. They don’t give as much,” Zelandoni said. “This baby may not be as hard for you, Ayla. You’re doing fine, you know.”
The donier had seen her tense up with the last pain. Tensing up like that will only make it worse, she thought, but I’m afraid she’s remembering a terrible delivery with her first. I wish she’d told me. I might have been able to help her. I wish Marthona would come. I think she needs someone paying close attention to her right now, but I would like to make something to help her relax. Maybe talking would take her mind off her fear. “Would you tell me about your son?”
“At first they thought he was deformed, and would be a burden to the clan,” Ayla began. “He couldn’t even hold his own head up in the beginning, but he grew strong. Everyone came to love him, Grod even made him a spear of his own, just his size. And he could run so fast, even as young as he was.”
Ayla was smiling with tears in her eyes at the memory, and it gave the donier a surprising insight. She suddenly understood how much Ayla had loved the child, how proud she was of him, mixed spirits or not. When she said she had given him away to her “sister,” Zelandoni thought it might have been a relief to find someone who would take him.
Some of the zelandonia still talked about Brukeval’s grandmother. Though it was never mentioned in public, most of them felt certain that the daughter to whom she gave birth was a child of mixed spirits. No one really wanted to take her after her mother died, and Brukeval suffered the same fate. He had the look of his mother, perhaps not as strong, but he was mixed, too, Zelandoni was convinced, though she would never admit to it aloud, especially not to him.
Was it possible that Ayla would be prone to attracting their spirits since she was raised by them? Could this one be mixed, too? And if it was, what then? The wisest course might be to quietly end its life before it began. It would be easy enough, and no one would know it wasn’t stillborn. It would probably save everyone heartache, even the baby. It would be a shame to have another child in the Cave who was unwanted and unloved, like Brukeval and his mother.
But, the donier thought, if Ayla loved her first child, wouldn’t she love this one, too? It’s amazing to see her around Echozar, I think she genuinely likes him, and he’s very comfortable around her. Maybe it would work out, it would depend on Jondalar.
“Jondalar told me your labor had begun, Ayla,” Marthona said, coming into the dwelling. “He took pains to say that it was just beginning and I shouldn’t hurry, but he almost pushed me out, he was so eager for me to come.”
“It’s just as well that you did, Marthona. I’d like to make something for her,” Zelandoni said.
“To hasten delivery?” Marthona asked. “First ones can be so long in coming.” She smiled at Ayla.,
“No,” Zelandoni said, pausing thoughtfully before she continued. “Just something to help her relax. She’s progressing quite well, faster than I thought she would, but she’s very tense, apprehensive about this birth, I believe.”
Ayla noticed that the healer did not correct Marthona’s assumption that this was her first child. From the beginning, she had sensed that Zelandoni knew many things, many secrets that she kept to herself. Maybe it would still be best if she kept the knowledge of her son to herself, except for Zelandoni. She could talk to her about him.
There was a tap at the entrance, but Proleva came in without waiting. “Jondalar said Ayla was in labor. Can I be of help?” she said. She was supporting a young infant on her back with a carrying blanket.
“Yes, you can,” Zelandoni said. She had assumed the right to allow access or not into the dwelling, and Ayla was grateful that she did. As she felt another pain coming on, the last thing she wanted to think about was who should be there. The healer noticed Ayla tensing up, beginning to fight the pain. It was obvious that she didn’t want to cry out, either. “You can sit with Ayla while Marthona gets some water boiling. I need to go get some special medicine.”
Zelandoni quickly left. She could move quite fast, in spite of her size, when she was so inclined. Folara was just approaching as the woman let the drape fall behind her.
“Can I go in, Zelandoni? I’d like to help, if I can,” she said.
The donier paused only a moment. “Yes, go ahead. You can help Proleva try to keep her calm,” she said, and hurried on.
When she returned, Ayla was thrashing around rather wildly, in the throes of another contraction, but she was still not crying out. Marthona and Proleva were on either side of her, holding a hand, looking worried. Folara was adding another hot stone to the water that had been heated, to keep it hot. Her expression matched her mother’s. There was fear in Ayla’s eyes, and relief at seeing the healer.
She hurried to the young woman. “It will be all right, Ayla. You are doing just fine, you just need to relax a little. I’m going to fix something for you, to help you get more comfortable,” Zelandoni said.
“What’s in it?” Ayla asked as the pain subsided.
Zelandoni looked at her closely. The question was asked not out of dread, but out of interest. It actually seemed to take her mind off her worry for a moment.
“Willow bark and raspberry leaf, primarily,” she said, hurrying to see if the water was boiling. “Plus a few linden flowers, and a very little thorn apple.”
Ayla was nodding. “Willow bark is a mild painkiller, raspberry leaf is especially relaxing during labor, linden flowers are a sweetener, and thorn apple—I think it’s what I call datura—it can stop pain and make you sleep, but might possibly stop the contractions. Just a little might be helpful, though,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” the donier said.
As she hurried to add the herbs and barks to the hot water Folara was tending, Zelandoni could see that letting Ayla get involved in her own treatment might be just as helpful as the medicines in getting her to relax, but considering how much she knew about medications, i
“More raspberry leaf than willow bark, and just enough linden to cover the bitter taste of the datura … thorn apple,” Ayla said, lying back down to wait for the next paroxysm of labor.
For just an instant, Zelandoni felt a retort come to her mind, a sarcastic “Well, do you approve?” but she caught herself and then was surprised that she’d even thought of it. The experienced woman wasn’t used to having someone testing and commenting on her medicine, but wouldn’t she do the same? The young woman had not been criticizing, she was testing herself, Zelandoni realized. As the donier watched, she smiled inwardly, sure that she knew precisely what Ayla was doing, because she would do the same. Ayla was using herself to test the medicine, quietly checking her own responses, waiting to see how long the medication would take to work and how much effect it would have. And as the healer had guessed, that in itself was taking her mind off her fear and helping her to relax.
They all waited, speaking quietly. The birthing seemed to be going a little better for the young woman. Zelandoni didn’t know if it was because of the medicine or the lessening of her fear, probably both, but she was not thrashing around anymore. Instead Ayla was concentrating on exactly what she was feeling, mentally comparing this birth with her previous one, and realizing that this one did seem to be easier. She was following the course that she had observed in other women who were having a normal delivery. She had been there when Proleva gave birth, and now she smiled when the woman nursed her baby girl.
“Marthona, do you know where her birthing blanket is? I think she’s getting close,” Zelandoni said.
“So soon? I didn’t think it would go so quickly, especially since she seemed to be having so much trouble in the beginning,” Proleva said, putting her infant down to sleep on her blanket.
“But she does seem to have it under control now,” Marthona said. “I’ll get the birthing blanket. Is it where you showed me before, Ayla?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly, feeling another muscle-clenching, all-encompassing convulsion coming on. When it was over, Zelandoni directed Proleva and Folara to spread the leather birthing blanket, marked with drawings and symbols, on the floor, then beckoned to Marthona.
“It’s time to help her up,” she said. Then to Ayla, “You need to get up and let the pull of the Great Earth Mother help the baby out. Can you get up?”
“Yes,” she said between panting breaths. She had been bearing down hard with each pain, and felt an urge to push again, but was trying to hold back for a moment. “I think so.”
They all helped Ayla to her feet and led her to the birthing blanket. Proleva showed her the squatting position to take, then she got on one side of her while Folara supported her other side. Marthona was in front, smiling and offering moral support. Zelandoni got behind her and clasped the young woman to her massive breast, wrapping her arms around her, above the bulge of her stomach.
Ayla felt enveloped by the softness and warmth of the huge woman; it was comforting to lean back on her. She felt like Mother, like all mothers combined in one, like the soft bosom of the Earth itself. But there was something else, too. Enormous strength lay hidden underneath the mounds of flesh. Ayla felt sure this woman could display every mood of Mother Earth Herself, from the gentleness of a warm summer day to the fury of a driving blizzard. If she felt so moved, she could lash out with the devastating power of a raging storm, or comfort and nourish like a soft mist.
“Now, at the next pain, I want you to push,” Zelandoni said. The two women on either side of her were each holding a hand, giving her something to grip.
“I feel it coming,” Ayla said.
“Then push!” Zelandoni said.
Ayla took a deep breath and bore down as hard as she could. She felt the donier helping her, pushing down on the baby with her. A gush of warm water spilled on the blanket.
“Good. I was waiting for that,” Zelandoni said.
“I wondered when her waters were going to break,” Proleva said. “Mine seem to break so early, I’m almost dry by the time the baby comes. This is better. Here she goes again.”
“Now, again, push, Ayla,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla bore down again and felt movement.
“I can see the head,” Marthona said. “I’m ready to catch the baby.” She knelt down closer to Ayla, just as another strong contraction started. As Ayla took a deep breath and pushed.
“Here it comes!” Marthona said.
Ayla felt the passage of the head. The rest was easy. As the baby slid out, Marthona reached out and caught it.
Ayla looked down and saw the wet infant in Marthona’s arms, and smiled. Zelandoni smiled, too.
“One last push, Ayla, to get out the afterbirth,” Zelandoni said, helping her again. She pushed and watched a mass of bloody tissue fall on the birthing blanket.
Zelandoni let go of her and moved around to the front of the new mother. Proleva and Folara supported Ayla while Zelandoni took the baby, turned it over, and patted the tiny back. There were little hiccuping sounds. Zelandoni thumped the baby’s feet and watched the infant expel breath in a startle response, then breathe in the first gulp of life-giving air. There was a small crying sound, hardly more than a mewling at first, but it grew as the lungs became accustomed to sustaining life.
Marthona held the infant while the donier cleaned Ayla up a little, wiping away blood and fluid, then Proleva and Folara helped her back to the bed. Zelandoni tied a piece of sinew around the baby’s navel cord—at Ayla’s request it had been dyed red with ochre—to pinch it off and prevent bleeding from the still engorged tube. With a sharp flint blade she cut the cord between the tie and the afterbirth, separating the infant from the placenta that had provided nourishment and a place to grow until birth. Ayla’s infant was a separate entity, a unique and individual human being.
Marthona and Zelandoni cleaned the baby with a velvety soft rabbitskin that Ayla had made for the purpose. Marthona had a small blanket ready, again velvety soft, and so smooth, it felt like the baby’s skin. It was made from the hide of a nearly full-term deer foetus. Zelandoni had told Jondalar that it would be especially lucky for the child born to his hearth if he could secure such a hide for the birth, and he and his brother had gone out near the end of winter looking for a pregnant deer.
Ayla had helped him make the foetal deerskin into the supple leather blanket. He had always been amazed at the softness of her leathers, a skill he knew she had learned from the Clan. After working with her on one, he understood how much effort it took, even starting with a tender foetal skin. Zelandoni laid the baby on the blanket, then Marthona wrapped the newborn in it and brought the child to Ayla.
38
You should be pleased. She’s a perfect little girl,” Marthona said, giving the tiny bundle to her mother.
Ayla looked at the tiny likeness of herself. “She’s so beautiful!” She unwrapped the swaddling of soft skins and carefully examined her new daughter, half-fearful in spite of the reassuring words that she would find some deformity. “She is perfect. Did you ever see such a beautiful baby, Marthona?”
The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this one, the daughter of her son’s hearth, was no less beautiful than her own had been.
“The delivery wasn’t very hard at all, Zelandoni,” Ayla said when the donier came and looked at them both. “You helped a lot, but it wasn’t really so hard. I’m so glad she’s a girl. Look, she’s trying to find my breast.” Ayla helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. “Can Jondalar come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don’t you, Marthona?”
“He can come soon,” Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and wrapped some fresh abs
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to choose the name for my baby,” Ayla said.
“Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and exchange it for this,” she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into a bundle around the afterbirth. “Then I will take this out and bury it, before the spirit life still remaining in the afterbirth tries to seek a home close to the life it once held. I must do it quickly, then I will tell Jondalar to come in.”
“I’ve decided to call her…” Ayla began.
“No! Don’t say it out loud, just whisper it to me,” Zelandoni said.
As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admiring the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and relaxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been exhausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelandoni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks in red and black paint.
“Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. “Jondalar!” she said. He knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.
“How are you, Ayla?”
“I’m fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought it would be. And see the baby?” she said as she unwrapped the blanket so he could see. “She’s perfect!”
“You got the girl you wanted,” he said, looking at the tiny newborn and feeling a little awed. “She’s so little. And look, she even has tiny fingernails.” The thought of a woman giving birth to a complete new human being suddenly overwhelmed him. “What have you named your daughter, Ayla?”
She looked at Zelandoni. “Can I tell him?”
“Yes, it’s safe now,” she said.