Post by Dora Lynch on Nov 9, 2009 20:52:05 GMT -6
MIDWIFE! A Birthin’…by Dora
(starting with quotes from the fires are burning post by Ae & Dmi)
After a late dinner at the Engineer's home, cooked by Good Dora, everyone sat dozing by the hearthfire. Martin slumped in his chair, lightly snoring and the young couple whispered to each other. Dora rested in her chair and the dogs took up space.
Then it came, breaking into dreams and shaking them and all the city from slumber. The alarm bell was striking, fast and as furious as the Bell Toller could go. "Fire!" the code with a most urgent rating.
In moment Ae tied up her braid under a hat and pulled her boots on. Dmitrii, too was being called.
Old lePower rose and still bewildered by the alarm, tried to accompany his daughter and the almost "son". "Stay with Dora, Da, please? Clovis will not be returning for her until morning" So the good old man was left with his daughter's servant.
Out of nearby dwelling, able bodied citizens responded to assist in whatever way they might. Martin looked out the one window over Ae's chart drawing desk and tried to see which direction there were flames in the sky but did not find what he anticipated.
Not ten minutes was the young couple gone running out the door to help, but a little pitiful voice called out to Martin. "Sir Martin? Will you fetch that little stool near the chimney corner? Yes. That's it. Tis me birthin' chair and I think it be my time."
Down the streets Aegraine and Dmitrii ran… together, they would make their way thru smoke and heat. Dmitrii would be out of his league, and would obey Aegraine’s commands as City Engineer.
"Uh. Just hang in there, woman." Martin dragged the birthin stool over to the servant. "I will go fetch, send back you a Midwife!" He inched to the door and then in a flash, he sprinted to the market square, very fast runner for such an old man, eh?
“Midwife!” Martin raced along the cobblestone street and on into the market square, where he happened onto a scene of scrambled chaos. Children clinging to a rope, led by and old lady crossed his path and kept him running in place for so long he gave a short loud whistle to get some attention.
“I need a midwife! Fast! “ he just reached out and held a thirty-ish woman, carrying a toddler over one hip. ”You; woman. Surely you know how I can find a midwife. Before it’s too late.”
“I will send my cousin Sally, next week, if you let me know where she is needed. You do know a midwife has got to see the lady well before her birthing, don’t ye?”
“No. I know nothing of the sort. How in hell would I know that!” Martin’s face began to get red, his ears white as the frustration got to him. “This is an urgent case!” He steamed and was clenching both fists, ready to do battle with something, anything. Just that moment, two shaggy mottled gray dogs came loping across the already congested square, in hot pursuit of pure bred coach female long haired bytch.
“Hoo! Now you two stop that!” The woman with toddler on her hip grabbed up a pail of water she had intended for her home supply and chased off after those three dogs. “ You get away from my Master’s property, you curs!” She tried to get to the dogs, but, alas the pail of water hit the intended victims but it was too late. One fine coach dog was going to produce pups of the mixed Beo and Wulf kind, when the time came.
“MIDWIFE!” Loud and long was his yell, as if ordering a catapult charge on solidly shut gates. “What the friggin hell does it take to find one simple midwife in a town of this size! It seems everyone has children, they must have midwives galore! Midwife! A gold griffin for a birthin’!”
Pretty painted eyes fluttered their eyelashes and an unearthly red set of lips smiled at Martin.” Did ye say a gold griffin? She shook curls that came from a box in London, some seasons ago and slipped the shoulder off her linen blouse, to be ever so alluring. “ You lookin’ for someone to give birth your child, old man? Or will we be just practicing’? Either way, you gets a lot for yer gold giffin, ye know that?”
“What! “ he flicked his hand at her to signal her to get away. ”Go on! I am not looking for that! I have a woman who needs a midwife now! Tonight.”
“Ohh, yes, dearie. I bet you do. Sure.” Mazie backed away from what her instincts was a mad old looney, into the shadows of more suitable clients. One gold griffin; she knew that had to be too good to be true.
“Me mum is a midwife.” A young girl of about twelve stood there, along with her brother. “Gold griffin is too much to pay for business, most time. You a royal? “ Her brother, a few years older and a foot taller, stood back and observed. Torches lit the market square intermittently, but they could tell that Martin was old and wore clothing that a wealthy man does. He just might have that gold griffin. “ You need help for you wife now? Me and Mel can come along and wait until Mum comes to see if there be birthin’ tonight or now.” The child had a cloth tote bag slung over one shoulder. She seemed clean enough and brighter than a brick, therefore Martin told her the address.
“Wier Lane, where the engineer lives.” He was about to sprint, eager to go help Aegraine and Dmittrii with the fire control and bucket brigade.
“Dame lePower? Tis her ? I knowed she were promised, but not wed nor..”
“Naye! Not my daughter with child! Her servant! You know where they live, do you? “ He handed the girl a few silver coins.” Here, go; sit with the serving woman until your Mother is free to assist; I am assured there is a birthing this night.”
“Find you a young one, did you?” Mazie slithered past while Martin bargained with the midwife’s daughter. “Fie on you, you dirty old man!” She spat on Sir lePower’s coat and near into his distracted face. Then Mazie ran for the far end of the square. Fast as her little red shoes could move.
“Egad!” He wiped the spittle off his coat and told the young folks,” Now when you see Dora tell her I got it in control; the midwife is on her way. Right?” He scurried through the thickening crowd, out to where the fire glow told him his daughter and son t be were, working. He was more comfortable facing a five alarm blaze that a woman about to give birth.
“Mel! Tis my big chance!” Margaret raced along with her brother to Weir Lane, a house she knew well. “Mum is at the Archer’s for the twin birth! I will get to do this one myself!” She was twelve; and no way could she be mistaken for thirteen. She was yet a child.
Once they arrived at the house, Margaret sent her brother home to let the family where she was and to tell their Mum she was needed. It was just a formality. Margaret was determined to attend her first birth alone. She was practiced in assisting her mother with the work, being trained to follow in the same line as her ancestors had done for generations, but for one thing. Margaret was only a helper, at this age.
“Midwife is here” Margaret poked her little snub nosed face in the door and looked for the woman in question. “Man tell me you need urgent help?” Margaret heaved a sigh of relief, for the older woman had to be experienced enough to be her guide, just in case. It was so better to have a customer who knew what was what for the first midwife work.
Over near the hearth, a little round woman sat, already perched atop her birthing stool, the preferred manner of giving birth for the farm folk hereabouts. Her hair was light, so light blonde that it looked almost white gray in the glow of the hearth fire.
“Well met there, Midwife.” Dora squinted her eyes and blinked to clear her vision, this was a tiny little midwife, ever there was. Small as a child. Egad! It hit her. It was a child!
The young woman set down her carrying bag, for she carried her midwife stuff along everywhere she went, playing pretend that she was going out on a mission, a job.
“So what month be you in? “ Margaret tied on her apron and got the basin to wash her hands first thing. “Have you had the contraction pains for long? They be a space of the Lord’s Prayer apart yet?” She even copied her Mother’s tone of voice, confident and kind.
“I am not sure. I never knew I were expecting until maybe three week ago.”
“Were you other childbirths…”
“I ain’t had none before’ three husbands and this here is me first baby.”
The child could tell in closer inspection that the woman did not have light blonde hair. It was totally white; gray from old age. The firelight showed up Dorie’s wrinkled face and hands to prove her true age.
“Uh, let me put this here knife under the chair here, to cut the pain?” Little Margaret slid a little knife on a folded towel under the birthing chair. She joked about cutting the pain, but it was really a tool her Mum sometimes used when a child had to be extracted from a Mom in chrisis.
“What? Well, if you think it be of help.” Dora was totally along with any kind of superstition she was told. “Although, I think the pains don’t need no help; they plenty strong enough already.” She winced and Margaret began to check Dora’s abdomon, counting the pace of the contractions.
“What does you Mum call you? I be Dora Lynch, but you can call me Dorie.” The tense sound of that last word showed Margaret she had not got here any too soon. The time was almost here. “What does you Mum call ye?” Dora was so afraid she was going to call the midwife “Child”.
“Mum? Herself she call me Dolt, Feather Brain, Idiot, Slow as a snail, Stupid..” It seemed that young Margaret had a very strict, abusive spoken mom.
“What be your Christain name? I would call you that; it have a ring o respect and a midwife ought to have respect.”
“Margaret. “ The young girl beamed with pride that she was accorded the simple thing as being called by her own name.
“Tis a lovely name; I be thinking of names’ Viney for a girl or Loomis for a boy. “ She meant Ivey and Louis, but when Dora pronounced the names they came out different.
(to be continued)
(starting with quotes from the fires are burning post by Ae & Dmi)
After a late dinner at the Engineer's home, cooked by Good Dora, everyone sat dozing by the hearthfire. Martin slumped in his chair, lightly snoring and the young couple whispered to each other. Dora rested in her chair and the dogs took up space.
Then it came, breaking into dreams and shaking them and all the city from slumber. The alarm bell was striking, fast and as furious as the Bell Toller could go. "Fire!" the code with a most urgent rating.
In moment Ae tied up her braid under a hat and pulled her boots on. Dmitrii, too was being called.
Old lePower rose and still bewildered by the alarm, tried to accompany his daughter and the almost "son". "Stay with Dora, Da, please? Clovis will not be returning for her until morning" So the good old man was left with his daughter's servant.
Out of nearby dwelling, able bodied citizens responded to assist in whatever way they might. Martin looked out the one window over Ae's chart drawing desk and tried to see which direction there were flames in the sky but did not find what he anticipated.
Not ten minutes was the young couple gone running out the door to help, but a little pitiful voice called out to Martin. "Sir Martin? Will you fetch that little stool near the chimney corner? Yes. That's it. Tis me birthin' chair and I think it be my time."
Down the streets Aegraine and Dmitrii ran… together, they would make their way thru smoke and heat. Dmitrii would be out of his league, and would obey Aegraine’s commands as City Engineer.
"Uh. Just hang in there, woman." Martin dragged the birthin stool over to the servant. "I will go fetch, send back you a Midwife!" He inched to the door and then in a flash, he sprinted to the market square, very fast runner for such an old man, eh?
“Midwife!” Martin raced along the cobblestone street and on into the market square, where he happened onto a scene of scrambled chaos. Children clinging to a rope, led by and old lady crossed his path and kept him running in place for so long he gave a short loud whistle to get some attention.
“I need a midwife! Fast! “ he just reached out and held a thirty-ish woman, carrying a toddler over one hip. ”You; woman. Surely you know how I can find a midwife. Before it’s too late.”
“I will send my cousin Sally, next week, if you let me know where she is needed. You do know a midwife has got to see the lady well before her birthing, don’t ye?”
“No. I know nothing of the sort. How in hell would I know that!” Martin’s face began to get red, his ears white as the frustration got to him. “This is an urgent case!” He steamed and was clenching both fists, ready to do battle with something, anything. Just that moment, two shaggy mottled gray dogs came loping across the already congested square, in hot pursuit of pure bred coach female long haired bytch.
“Hoo! Now you two stop that!” The woman with toddler on her hip grabbed up a pail of water she had intended for her home supply and chased off after those three dogs. “ You get away from my Master’s property, you curs!” She tried to get to the dogs, but, alas the pail of water hit the intended victims but it was too late. One fine coach dog was going to produce pups of the mixed Beo and Wulf kind, when the time came.
“MIDWIFE!” Loud and long was his yell, as if ordering a catapult charge on solidly shut gates. “What the friggin hell does it take to find one simple midwife in a town of this size! It seems everyone has children, they must have midwives galore! Midwife! A gold griffin for a birthin’!”
Pretty painted eyes fluttered their eyelashes and an unearthly red set of lips smiled at Martin.” Did ye say a gold griffin? She shook curls that came from a box in London, some seasons ago and slipped the shoulder off her linen blouse, to be ever so alluring. “ You lookin’ for someone to give birth your child, old man? Or will we be just practicing’? Either way, you gets a lot for yer gold giffin, ye know that?”
“What! “ he flicked his hand at her to signal her to get away. ”Go on! I am not looking for that! I have a woman who needs a midwife now! Tonight.”
“Ohh, yes, dearie. I bet you do. Sure.” Mazie backed away from what her instincts was a mad old looney, into the shadows of more suitable clients. One gold griffin; she knew that had to be too good to be true.
“Me mum is a midwife.” A young girl of about twelve stood there, along with her brother. “Gold griffin is too much to pay for business, most time. You a royal? “ Her brother, a few years older and a foot taller, stood back and observed. Torches lit the market square intermittently, but they could tell that Martin was old and wore clothing that a wealthy man does. He just might have that gold griffin. “ You need help for you wife now? Me and Mel can come along and wait until Mum comes to see if there be birthin’ tonight or now.” The child had a cloth tote bag slung over one shoulder. She seemed clean enough and brighter than a brick, therefore Martin told her the address.
“Wier Lane, where the engineer lives.” He was about to sprint, eager to go help Aegraine and Dmittrii with the fire control and bucket brigade.
“Dame lePower? Tis her ? I knowed she were promised, but not wed nor..”
“Naye! Not my daughter with child! Her servant! You know where they live, do you? “ He handed the girl a few silver coins.” Here, go; sit with the serving woman until your Mother is free to assist; I am assured there is a birthing this night.”
“Find you a young one, did you?” Mazie slithered past while Martin bargained with the midwife’s daughter. “Fie on you, you dirty old man!” She spat on Sir lePower’s coat and near into his distracted face. Then Mazie ran for the far end of the square. Fast as her little red shoes could move.
“Egad!” He wiped the spittle off his coat and told the young folks,” Now when you see Dora tell her I got it in control; the midwife is on her way. Right?” He scurried through the thickening crowd, out to where the fire glow told him his daughter and son t be were, working. He was more comfortable facing a five alarm blaze that a woman about to give birth.
“Mel! Tis my big chance!” Margaret raced along with her brother to Weir Lane, a house she knew well. “Mum is at the Archer’s for the twin birth! I will get to do this one myself!” She was twelve; and no way could she be mistaken for thirteen. She was yet a child.
Once they arrived at the house, Margaret sent her brother home to let the family where she was and to tell their Mum she was needed. It was just a formality. Margaret was determined to attend her first birth alone. She was practiced in assisting her mother with the work, being trained to follow in the same line as her ancestors had done for generations, but for one thing. Margaret was only a helper, at this age.
“Midwife is here” Margaret poked her little snub nosed face in the door and looked for the woman in question. “Man tell me you need urgent help?” Margaret heaved a sigh of relief, for the older woman had to be experienced enough to be her guide, just in case. It was so better to have a customer who knew what was what for the first midwife work.
Over near the hearth, a little round woman sat, already perched atop her birthing stool, the preferred manner of giving birth for the farm folk hereabouts. Her hair was light, so light blonde that it looked almost white gray in the glow of the hearth fire.
“Well met there, Midwife.” Dora squinted her eyes and blinked to clear her vision, this was a tiny little midwife, ever there was. Small as a child. Egad! It hit her. It was a child!
The young woman set down her carrying bag, for she carried her midwife stuff along everywhere she went, playing pretend that she was going out on a mission, a job.
“So what month be you in? “ Margaret tied on her apron and got the basin to wash her hands first thing. “Have you had the contraction pains for long? They be a space of the Lord’s Prayer apart yet?” She even copied her Mother’s tone of voice, confident and kind.
“I am not sure. I never knew I were expecting until maybe three week ago.”
“Were you other childbirths…”
“I ain’t had none before’ three husbands and this here is me first baby.”
The child could tell in closer inspection that the woman did not have light blonde hair. It was totally white; gray from old age. The firelight showed up Dorie’s wrinkled face and hands to prove her true age.
“Uh, let me put this here knife under the chair here, to cut the pain?” Little Margaret slid a little knife on a folded towel under the birthing chair. She joked about cutting the pain, but it was really a tool her Mum sometimes used when a child had to be extracted from a Mom in chrisis.
“What? Well, if you think it be of help.” Dora was totally along with any kind of superstition she was told. “Although, I think the pains don’t need no help; they plenty strong enough already.” She winced and Margaret began to check Dora’s abdomon, counting the pace of the contractions.
“What does you Mum call you? I be Dora Lynch, but you can call me Dorie.” The tense sound of that last word showed Margaret she had not got here any too soon. The time was almost here. “What does you Mum call ye?” Dora was so afraid she was going to call the midwife “Child”.
“Mum? Herself she call me Dolt, Feather Brain, Idiot, Slow as a snail, Stupid..” It seemed that young Margaret had a very strict, abusive spoken mom.
“What be your Christain name? I would call you that; it have a ring o respect and a midwife ought to have respect.”
“Margaret. “ The young girl beamed with pride that she was accorded the simple thing as being called by her own name.
“Tis a lovely name; I be thinking of names’ Viney for a girl or Loomis for a boy. “ She meant Ivey and Louis, but when Dora pronounced the names they came out different.
(to be continued)