The final installment of chapter 1. Let me know what you think in the comments, and be sure to enter the giveaway!
Through the open roof of the main room’s middle section, Kebi fixed her gaze on the unmoving clouds. This birth had not been as easy as Aaron’s, and the sun had traveled more than three-quarters of its way across the sky. Squatting on the bricks, her chest heaving, Kebi closed her eyes and leaned back against Puah, who knelt behind her.
Kebi hadn’t thought it possible to be this exhausted. It wasn’t this hard the other times. It couldn’t have been.
Piercing pain started low in her belly and snaked through her arms and legs.
Shifra looked up. “All right, Kebi. One more huge push, and your baby will be delivered.”
Kebi sucked in a breath and bore down, clinging to the image of a baby girl’s sweet face.
“The head is out. Keep going! Don’t stop now.”
Kebi let her breath escape and drew in one more. She leaned forward, fisted her hands, and holding her breath, pushed with all her might until she felt the infant slide from her body.
“There! You can relax a moment.”
Kebi again fell back against Puah, and the young girl dabbed soft cloths on her forehead and neck, wiping away the sweat that had built up over the hours.
“Boy or girl?” Kebi silently ran though the girls’ names she and Amram had talked about these last months. Rebekah, Rachel, Netanya, Sarai…
Shifra remained silent. The sharp scent of salted olive oil filled the small space. The sounds of gentle rubbing, small whimpers, and Puah’s soft voice swirled into a soft but anxious noise.
“Boy or girl?” Kebi repeated.
“Shush, little one.” Shifra ignored the question, focusing only on the babe as she wound strips of fabric around the tiny body.
The tension in the room grew. Maybe they planned to let her discover for herself that Shaddai had blessed them with another girl, allowing relief and joy to flood over her as she held her daughter for the first time.
Miriam would be happy for a sister.
Even as the thought entered her head she knew it was a lie. The child must be a boy, or someone would gladly have told her by now, destroyed the fear that engulfed her.
El Shaddai had given them another son.
But for how long?
Her eyes shot open as Shifra placed the babe in her arms. The precious bundle, wrapped securely in wide strips of old tunic from neck to tiny toes, blinked once at her and slipped into sleep.
He was perfect. So utterly beautiful. A soft pink to his cheeks. Dark, wet curls plastered to his forehead. Red lips, slightly parted, the top one in the shape of a bow.
She untucked the swaddling the midwife had so carefully wrapped him in to expose tiny hands, clasped at his chest.
She pried open his fingers, counting them. Ten.
She unwrapped further.
Five toes on one foot, five on the other.
And yes, he was a boy.
Vision blurred, she wrapped him again.
He squirmed, a small cry escaping his lungs.
Keeping one arm under him, with her free hand she gently grasped his head, turning it toward her breast.
He squirmed more. She pressed his mouth against her skin. After several attempts, he found his place and began suckling.
Kebi had always loved feeding her babies. For those moments, nothing else existed but her and her infant. She had to stop cleaning, cooking, grinding grain—there was no more important job on earth than providing nourishment to one so utterly dependent on others. El Shaddai must have designed it this way so mothers would stop and focus on nothing else, giving their children the love that was as essential to their survival as milk.
A slight pain in her breast brought to mind the pain she endured before…when Benjamin, born before Aaron, did not survive past a quarter year. The pain as her milk slowly dried up…as her breasts became engorged with milk no child would ever drink.
Surely Shaddai would not take another child from her.
He wouldn’t, would He?
The baby suckled, soothing not only himself but her as well. The baby. He needed a name.
But would it be harder or easier to deal with his absence if she had a name to cling to?
Without a name, would it be simpler to forget him, let him slip into obscurity? Forget the devastating loss?
Even without a name she would never forget him.
He needed a name—or rather, she needed one—that would remind her to trust in the Almighty in the face of death. “We will call him Tovyah.”
Shifra smiled. “God is good. I like it.”
“What are you going to do?” Puah’s soft voice drifted over her shoulder.
“I don’t know yet.” Her voice broke.
“Let’s concentrate on keeping this one safe for now, all right?” Shifra drew a damp cloth over Kebi’s face, wiping away the sweat and tears. “We certainly aren’t going to hurt him. Let’s get a fresh tunic on you.”
Kebi allowed him to nestle into Shifra’s arms, then relaxed a bit while Puah changed her garment and gently but thoroughly cleaned her from head to toe with cloths dipped into a large bowl of water.
“Feel better now?” Shifra forced a smile.
“Not really.”
“I know,” Shifra whispered, as she returned the infant to his mother.
Kebi pushed the king and his edict from her mind. Only Shaddai knew for certain what would happen. Worrying about it wouldn’t change anything.
For now, there was only her son.