Trust Lucy to go into labour in a blizzard. By her dates, she still has three weeks left, and after that, the snowstorm would probably have eased off, the air would be crisp, and they could have made it to the hospital. But no, her little one decided it had to be now!
Honestly, its not Lucy whos impatient, its whoever is living inside her. The baby is in a hurry, theres simply not enough room left, and as for the blizzard pelting the village for the sixth consecutive day, it doesnt seem to bother him in the slightest.
Not a single car could possibly get through in this weather; the roads are so clogged with snow, some people are sinking waist-deep just trying to walk. The snow hasnt let up; its falling thicker than flour pouring from a torn sack in the sky. Look out the windowall snow, swirling and drifting. If you need to step outside, its impossible to open your eyes; the icy wind slaps your face, snow stinging and blinding you.
And its in this wild storm that Lucys baby has chosen to make an entrance.
All that morning, Lucy knows somethings changingher lower back aches, she keeps needing to lie down but cant get comfortable, and when she stands, she just paces up and down restlessly. Her mother-in-law, Mrs Bennett, notices:
Lucy, are you in labour, love? What are you pacing for?
Im not sure, Mum, but I just cant settle.
Come here, let me feel your bump.
Mrs Bennett isnt too well-versed in these things; these days everythings down to doctors and maternity wards. Being a midwifes a thing of the past, no one learns it now. Theres just one midwife left in the village, though in Mrs Bennetts younger days, they had three.
Looks like hes dropped, Lucy. Babys decided its time.
But Mum, its too early!
Thats not up to us, darling. Itll be as the good Lord wills.
Lucys eyes fill with tearsshes scared. Its her first baby, she doesnt know what to expect, and theres no one to explain. Even Mrs Bennett only had the one son, and that was over twenty years ago. Shes forgotten everything.
Lucy, Im going to get Mrs Fletcher, the midwife. Ill put this kettle on, when it boils, just turn it off, will you? If you can, get out some clean towels and sheets. You know where they are. Prepare what you can, but dont overdo it, loveif its too much, leave it. When I had Michael, Mrs Fletcher made me walk about. Back and forth, she said, and breathe deeplyit helps everything move along. Ill pop to your mums on the way, let her know. You hang in there, sweetheart, Mrs Fletcher knows exactly what shes doing. In my day, people came from all the neighbouring villages to have her at their births. Shes the best there is.
With that, Mrs Bennett wraps a scarf round her head, grabs the broom handle for support, and heads out into the blizzard.
Lucys alone and even more scared. What if things start and no ones there? In weather like this, who knows if her mother-in-law will make it through, what if she falls somewhere? Or what if her mum cant make itthough she surely will?
And, most of all, Lucy doesnt know what to do. All she knows is she should walk and breathe, but how can you breathe deeply when sometimes the pain just cuts your breath short?
Oh, and Michael isnt here by her side to support her, to tell her shell be alright, and promise to stay close if she needs him. Because of this wretched blizzard, theres no way for him to get home from the city. No buses, the roads are impassable. He doesnt even know yet that hell soon be a father. And goodness, that backache!
Her mother, Mrs Harper, storms into the house, snow stuck to her coat after braving the storm.
Lucy, love! Mrs Bennett told me youd started.
Yes, Mum.
Im here now, darling, Ive got some dried berriesIll make you a nice compote. You need to keep your strength up, lets get the kettle on…
An hour later, Mrs Bennett arrives with Mrs Fletcher, the village midwifea nimble little old lady with a face full of wrinkles. She examines Lucy and announces:
Shell deliver by morning.
By morning? Lucy gasps. Its not even lunchtime yet, but I started twinging yesterday.
That was just the early signs. Sometimes you get them days beforehand. Now youre beginning to dilate, but only a fingertip so far. Take your time, love; youll have your baby tomorrow. Ill be off home then.
Please… please stay, Mrs Fletcher, Lucy begs, youre the only one who knows whats happening, and Ill feel much safer if youre here.
The midwife, having delivered hundreds of babies in her time, softens and stays:
All right, Ill stop with you for now. When the mothers calm, it all goes better for the baby too.
Lucy didnt know that these early signs were just a gentle previewquickly replaced by the real pains. Suddenly, its agony, tearing her up inside, she cant walk, cant lie down, cant feel anything but pain.
Mrs Bennett and Mrs Harper are completely lost, unable to help, and just wring their hands and sigh as they pace the sitting room. Mrs Fletcher shoos them to iron laundry so theyre not nerves in the way.
By nightfall, everythings gone quiet. Mrs Fletcher checks Lucynow four centimetres dilated. Slow progress, but then its her first time, everythings harder for her and for the baby, its a path not taken before. Lucys exhausted, contractions give her a brief rest so she can eat a little. Mrs Fletcher settles her down to sleep, to gather her strength.
The snowstorm outside howls even louder than before.
Lucy jolts awake at four in the morning, darkness outside, Mrs Fletcher snoring softly nearby.
Oh, Lord, help me, Lucy whispers, turning to the little cross on the shelf Please, let my baby come quickly.
And then its all pain again, worse than ever. Mrs Fletcher gets up and checksfive centimetres now. Its taking a long time, but thats normal for first babies. Shell manage.
When daylight finally edges through the window, Lucy is spenther nightdress clings to her, her eyes are glazed, her hair a tangled mess.
Just a bit more now, the midwife tells her hes nearly here.
Granny, help me Lucy cries, Granny, help, I cant do it…
Lucy, darling, whats this? her mother asks in alarm Theres no Granny here, love, youre seeing things! She calls her great-gran Grannyshe always has, couldnt say grandma as a child and it stuck. Shes the first great-grandchild, and her great-grandma Elsie always adored her above all the boys.
Lucy, I can see the top of his head! Come on, love, one more good push! Come on, like this… Puff-puff-puff Mrs Fletcher breathes with her, encouraging.
Lucy screams, pushes with the last of her strength, breathes, and then screams again.
Granny, help me, I cant go on she cries, and with that, her baby is delivered, straight into Mrs Fletchers warm, skilled hands.
Perhaps this is the last one Ill deliver, Mrs Fletcher thinks, smiling at this new little life. She gently lays the baby on Lucys stomach:
A boy, Lucy, a boy! Look at your lovely son. And what a set of lungs! Hell be the centre of attention wherever he goes, youll see.
Lucys crying with happiness, kissing his tiny fingers. How did such a miracle fit inside her? Oh, she wishes Michael were here to see their beautiful little sonthe finest in the world.
Thomas, my Thomas, she whispers.
Thomas? Mrs Bennett says in surprise Only the other day you said if it was a boy youd call him Oliver!
How could he be anything but Thomas? Lucy smiles Thomas Michael.
Mrs Fletcher gets her bag together to go home, exhausted by the nights work. Bringing new life into the world is a blessing, but it does take its toll. Shell be glad of some rest herself, just as soon as she makes it back through the snowstorm.
Lucy and her son drift to sleep, and Mrs Harper gets ready to go home tooits been a day and a night since she left. She wraps her shawl to her eyes, quietly says her goodbyes, and steps outside.
Look at that, the blizzard is easingsnow now falling as tiny grains instead of thick flakes. With luck, her son-in-law will be able to get back tomorrow or the next day. Shes nearly home now.
Ill just pop in and see Granny Elsie, she thinksshell be thrilled. Maybe she needs something, maybe shes run out of bread, though I brought some the other day, and she doesnt eat much nowadays.
Lucys great-grandmother, Michaels gran, lives two doors down, still managing, though shell turn 93 this summer. Shes long since resisted moving in, prefers her independence, and they help her as best they can.
Mrs Harper forces open the garden gateMichael must have been here yesterday, the shovels leaning against the fence. She clears a bit of a path, gives the porch a sweep, and heads inside.
Granny Elsie! Granny Elsie! she shouts, stamping her boots, knocking the snow off. You have to call loudly, Elsies hearing isnt what it once was. Its me, Nicky, just checking in on you!
No answer, shes probably sleeping. Shame to wake her. Mrs Harper takes off her coat and boots, walks into the front room, and there
Granny Elsies lying on her bed, her arms folded neatly across her chest. Shes put on her best dress and a spotless white scarf, things Mrs Harpers never seen her wear before. She knows instantly. She gently closes Elsie’s eyes, brushing away a tear.
On the bedside table, next to a photograph of Lucy, theres a little icon of St Nicholas and a stub of candle.
Thank you, Granny, you helped Lucy. Shes had a little boy. Shes named him Thomas. But you know all that, dont you, Granny? Mrs Harper kisses her great-grandmothers wrinkled cheek Thank you…
