Free A Flicker of Light by Roberta Kagan

flooding into the world in a sea of blood and fluid. A lusty cry from the lips of the newborn child soon filled the room. A lthough Petra continued to pant, trying to catch her breath for several moments as the midwife removed the afterbirth and began to sew the tender vaginal skin with a sterilized needle, she forgot her soreness. The baby was here!  In a whisper, barely audible, she asked, “What is it - a boy or a girl? Is it healthy? Is it all right?”
                  The old midwife had responded to that question many more times than she could remember, but she stopped her work for a moment and with a smile she told Petra that she had given birth to a healthy, perfect little boy. At least this time, Rita VanStrom could relax and admit to herself that f or a while she’d been worried - a fraid that she might lose Petra. But t oday she delivered good news. Not only was the mother fine but the child was perfect. Often it had fallen to her to inform a mother of an abnorm al ity, or the curse of a stillbirth . After all, she was the first one to see the infant; it was her job.  And when bad luck reared it s ugly head it was she who w as forced to steel herself and listen as the mother cried out, “Why me? W hy my child?”
                  During Petra’s entire labor, poor Daisy had paced outside the room. The mutt knew her family, and she ’d felt the tension in the air . Something was going on, but she was not sure what it was.  She ’d listened closely. For hours she ’d heard groaning and grunting that left her filled with worry. But then a strange crying noise, one she’d never heard before , rang through the house. It was followed by quiet lau ghter and from the sounds of Sie land ’s and Petra’s voices the dog knew that whatever had troubled them earlier was over , and it had ended well. Her tail flicked and fluttered as her loyal canine heart sang with elation.
                  Siegland bathe d the baby with care. She lovingly observed the tiny hands and feet as she tenderly washed between his fingers and toes. She kept her touch soft , and ever so careful , as she used a damp washcloth to clean his little bald head. She found herself enraptured by the tiny ears and eyelashes. Finally, after she had wrapped him in a blanket, she handed the infant t o his mother. Petra was beaming with joy. Pure bliss radiated from her as she smiled down at the tiny , red , wrinkled infant and then looked back up at Siegland , “He’ll call you Grandma, if that’s all right with you.”
                  Siegland could not answer for fear that she might cry tears of happiness. Her throat closed and she smiled. Then Siegland marveled at the girl she had come to love like a daughter, and nodded her head.
                  “You’re tired, sweet child. Sleep. I’ll watch him. Nothing wil l happ en to him while I’m around,” Sie gland assured her .
                  Worn out with the pain and the ordeal of the birth, Petra fell into a deep slumber and slept for nearly five hours.
                  After Petra awoke and Siegland propped her up with pillows, Sie gland dressed the baby in the diapers that she had made and in a little outfit that she had knitted for him. Then she carried him to his mother to nurse. A hearty baby, he instinctively found the nipple, grabbed on and began sucking. Watching his enthusiasm, Petra turned to Siegland and said, “He’s just like his father.” Both women laughed.
                  “The midwife, she told me that some babies don’t know how. So it takes ‘ em longer, but our little f ellow, he knows. Look at him… ”
                  The two women laughed again. Then Petra looked down into the tiny face, so small and determined, and she saw that the blood of her Viking ancestors had come through in her offspring. “Yes, he does know, doesn’t he?”