Living the Dream

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As I should have realized, though, there is no way to plan life around nature. Like many first-time mothers, my due date, June 15, came and went. To make matters worse, there hadn't been any rain for weeks and I was getting worried about our garden. It was in the valley two miles away where we were building our new cabin. At this stage, I didn't want to be alone while Jay went off to tend the vegetables, so on June 18, we both hiked to the garden.

We worked there all afternoon and evening, thinning and watering the lettuce and beets. In the evening, as we sat eating supper beside the open fire, I noticed that my tailbone was sore and it was impossible to find a comfortable sitting position. Having only stumps and ground to sit on, of course, didn't help things much.

We slept on boards in the half-finished cabin that night, then on June 19 worked in the garden again. The sun beat down on us, and it was a great effort for me to move from row to row. When we sat down by the river to rest, I suddenly realized we had no time to lose. We had to get back to our cabin immediately.

It took strength to climb that first great hill out of the valley, a steep rise of 200 feet. It was like climbing 20 flights of stairs while in labor. Then, after another 100-foot hill, I felt a sudden burst of warm liquid down my legs. I knew that the amniotic membrane had burst. It was 5 p.m., and the contractions began with two miles of rough trail to go.

Wilderness life is no genteel retirement. An endless round of pioneer chores keeps the family on the go from sunup to sundown.

When the waves of painful contractions forced me to stop, swarms of mosquitoes crawled into my eyes, ears, and nose and bit me without mercy. But I also vividly remember the masses of butterflies that kept exploding from the trail ahead of us.

Two hours later, filthy and exhausted, we reached the cabin. I lay down while Jay flew into a blizzard of activity. He chopped wood, started the fire, fed the animals, fetched and heated water, made dinner, cut up the three gallons of rhubarb he had packed back form the valley, and massaged the small of my back when the pain became too severe.

I squatted and tried to keep control by panting, but suddenly I was possessed by such a strong urge that I found myself growling like an animal and pushing. Before I knew it, the baby's head was through. I pushed some more and the rest of her slithered out, followed by the glistening cord.

I screamed as Jay appeared to fumble and drop her. He was actually whipping her around to get the cord off her neck. She was a moonstone color and her head was so pointed I couldn't help but wonder what planet she was from.

Jay quickly sucked the mucus out of her nose and mouth and she began to kick and cry. He laid her across my stomach and I massaged the vermix into her skin. To my amazement, she hoisted herself up on elbows and knees, threw her head back and looked into my face. It was 5:20 a.m. and all was well. The strength of her cry assured us that Natalia had made a safe crossing from the spirit world.

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