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Chapter Twelve

January, 1679

It took longer than expected for Asa and Rebekah to reach the Steward homestead. The distance and frigid air made the warmth of the Steward’s hearth that much more welcome. But Rebekah had little chance to recover, as Mr. Steward led the midwife directly to his wife’s bedside, eager to pass on the responsibility for her care.
“What have you done for her this day?” Rebekah asked the farmer. “Has she been up and about at all?”
“Her women friends have stopped by to help us as I am not well suited to such things. Since long before dawn my wife has endured the birthing pains, but nary a peep from the babe to come.” Steward, a man of few words, turned to a stocky woman who appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Best you ask our neighbor, Mistress Caldwell what it is you need to know. She’s been at my wife’s side since early this morning.”
Rebekah greeted the woman with a nod and smile, then took off her cape and hung it on a wall peg. She turned to Mr. Steward. “Would you have one of your boys see to Pacer?”
Steward nodded and left the room.
Rebekah examined Goodie Steward and found her to be suffering from a severe chill. Her teeth were beginning to rattle.”
“Mrs. Caldwell, when did Mistress Steward last have any nourishment?”
“I am not that certain, miss. I have been here near two hours, — came just after dawn and brought a small pie to share— but the Mistress would have none of it. I do not know when she last took food, though it seems her cup of water needs filling every few minutes. It is worrying how much she has had to drink this day. The babe will be drowned inside her.”
Rebekah shook her head in wonder at the nonsense spewing from the neighbor. “Let me put it right for you, Mistress, the water she may drink will only slake the thirst of she who drinks it. The babe is in no danger of drowning.”
“I am only too glad to hear it from ye.”
“We need to warm Mistress Steward. If you could find another coverlet for her bed, I shall make the tea.”
With the neighbor preoccupied, Rebekah sorted through the dry herbs she had brought and carefully selected a small bundle of dried raspberry leaf. She poured hot water into the kettle, added the raspberry leaf and left the liquid to steep.
“This is a tea that will help shorten the pain and prepare Goodie Steward for the delivery of her babe,” she explained. “While we wait, perhaps you could help with the preparation of a hearty stew. Her husband would be grateful and others will soon be coming along to help before long. It would be right to have something to serve.”
Mistress Caldwell agreed. “I am certain the women helpers hereabouts will make things right for mistress Steward. Lord knows how many birthings she has joined us to do her part. I know where things are in her pantry. I will manage the stew.”
The neighbor began poking through cupboards and storage bins. In short order she had gathered a crock full of root vegetables and had the pot over the fire beginning to simmer.
“Midwife, have you put a knife under the bed yet?” the neighbor asked. “It’s certain to cut the pain as she delivers. I found a sharp knife for the purpose while I was rummaging for the pot.” She held a very large knife in her fist, eager for Rebekah’s approval.
“Put the knife under the bed if you believe in such things, Mistress Caldwell. But the pain will come no matter. It is as certain as the seasons.”
Rebekah now turned all her attention to her patient. “Mistress Steward, I want you to sit up and take some tea. It will warm you. Your hands and fingers are so cold. Do not be afeared. I am here now to take care of you and your little one. You leave things to me.”
The woman did as she was told, grateful for someone finally taking charge. Mrs. Caldwell, though well intentioned, had been useless for comfort.
“This is not my first delivery, Miss Rebekah. I have three other children. I know what to expect.”
“I am certain you do, Mistress.” Rebekah pressed her hand against the woman’s forehead, gauging her fever. “Now tell me. When did you first feel the birthing pains?”
“As best I can tell the pains started near midnight but they were very light. I told my husband not to worry when the contractions became stronger. It is as it should be. But he would not listen. He worries so.”
“Most men do,” Rebekah assured her. “And how are the contractions at this moment?”
“Now they are stronger one upon another with only a bit of time in between.”
“That is a good sign, Mistress. Your babe will be born soon enough. Do not fear. You are doing very well.”
A knock at the door and the cold rush of winter air announced the arrival of more neighbors anxious to assist with whatever was needed. They each stood at the birthing room door and greeted the expectant mother, waving and sending good wishes. Rebekah called out for the neighbor. “Mrs. Caldwell, would you be good enough to organize these women for me. There must be many tasks they could do beyond standing in the way.” The annoyance in her voice was obvious.
“Leave it to me, Mistress. There is much to be done in the kitchen.”
She herded the group of eager helpers out of the room, leaving Rebekah to her main task, seeing the Steward baby born. Morning passed into the noon hour. It was clear delivery of the child was near at hand.
“Mrs. Caldwell?” Rebekah called to the neighbor. “I have examined Mrs. Steward. It is time. I need you by my side.”
Rebekah could feel rather than see the presence of the women healers gathering behind the birthing chair. Eager to help they moved in closer. Rebekah felt suffocated and urged them to step back. “She needs room. And so do I.” She looked up and saw that no one had moved. “Someone, throw open a shutter and let in some fresh air.”
“But that might bring infection into the room,” one of the women commented.
“Nonsense.” Rebekah stated. “There is no harm in fresh air.”
As she continued to attend to the expectant mother, Rebekah heard disgruntled rumblings from the neighbors, but there was little use in her trying to persuade them to her point of view. Her full attentions were needed on Mistress Steward.
“It is time for you to work, my dear. When you feel a contraction coming I want you to breathe in, hold it then push as hard as you can.” Mistress Steward nodded. She had been through this before.
“It will not be long.” She turned and looked at the women that had gathered. “We are here to help you, dear.”
The next hour was full of breathing, counting and finally, cries of joy as the child was finally born. Rebekah wrapped the newborn in a swaddling cloth and placed it in its mothers arms. “Congratulations, Mrs. Steward. You have a beautiful little girl.”
The new mother was pleased with her new daughter. Mr. Steward pretended to be so. “A boy would be of greater use on the farm,” he pondered, “though daughters do have their uses, I suppose.” Rebekah bit her tongue rather than say what was on her mind. She knew quick words never added peace to such a situation.
Friends and family celebrated the new baby with sweets and hard cider the neighbors had brought. It was nearly sundown when Farmer Steward made his way through the gathering to find Rebekah and pay her nine shillings, the usual fee for a midwife. “Thank you for your good work, Mistress Rand. I’ll have Asa bring your horse around to the gate. You want to be heading home before it is dark.”
~
A light snow was falling by the time she reached the cottage that evening. John was waiting.
“Did things go well with you at the Steward farm?” her husband asked.
She slipped out of the saddle and handed John the bridal.
“Mrs. Steward was delivered of a baby girl.”
“Healthy?”
Rebekah smiled and nodded. “Born with a strong set of lungs, to be sure. The babe announced her arrival to the world, far and wide. Families in the center of the village could hardly have escaped her cries.”
John grinned. “And they have you to thank for it.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She held his hand and pulled him closer, eager for his touch.
“Let me take care of Pacer first, Bekah. You should warm yourself by the fire and eat some of the porridge I left for you on the sideboard.”
She nodded and watched as he wrapped himself in his warm woolen cloak. “Do not forget your hat. The air is cold enough to freeze the tits off a witch.”

. . .