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I’d just threatened him with becoming a mama bear, so it was funny that they described Dash as
one.
“Moonbeam’s down there trying to hand him some blue lace agate. It’s supposed to facilitate calm discussions and help ease tensions, but I think she might have more luck shoving that stone up where he’d need a colorectal surgeon to extract it.”
“Come on in while I pack a bag,” I said, loving how Aggie could make me smile despite everything.
She waited and then insisted on carrying my small backpack for me, and I spent the night tucked under mother hen’s feathers, so to speak.
*.
~*~*~*~*
Aggie had called it. Five days later, Dash was still camped outside the gates. From the reports I heard, he drove off to get food a couple of times a day, but otherwise he paced outside the tall
gates, a few times he walked the perimeter, likely looking for alternate ways into the commune
(and not finding any because the original hippies who distrusted the Establishment had built fourteen–foot, cinderblock and cement walls around the property), or he sat in his car, probably commiserating with Iris and my mother about how I’d blown a little joke out of proportion.
What he’d told the hospital, I don’t know, because Dash never missed work.
Aggie insisted I stay with her at night, but during the days, I visited the bees with Sunny, took naps during the day at the cottage or was visited by the women who did everything they could to show me love and caring. They pampered me and reassured me, letting me take a deep breath and
relax.
On the sixth day, I felt heavy and weighted down in a new way that hurt my back. Then I began having contractions that didn’t stop when I drank water or rested. The contractions started coming faster together, lasting longer, and I asked Aggie to call the midwives on the commune who had been checking on me. She had me talk to them (apparently they could hear things in the mother’s voice regarding her pain) and they told me they’d meet me at the birthing center.
On the way there, my water broke. Dash was no more than a mile away.
“Almost there,” Aggie said to me. “Sunny and Mist are right behind us. I called them when you were talking with the midwives. I’m sure Moonbeam won’t be far behind once she finds whatever stone or crystal works its woo–woo on a woman in labor.”
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Dash was no more than a mile away.
I put him out of my mind as another contraction hit.
Aggie and Sunny walked on either side of me with Mist hurrying ahead to get the door. There were candles burning and fresh flowers in pretty vases scattered around, and the two midwives met us
in the waiting room.
“We have your room set up, Zinnia,” Tansy said, calm as ever.
They examined me and smiled. “Already at eight centimeters and one hundred percent effaced.
Good work, Zinnia.”
Five minutes later, Sunny checked her phone and asked if her mother could come in. I said yes,
and the older woman hurried in.
“Malachite,” Moonbeam said, pressing a stone in my hand. “It’s also called the midwife stone because it brings on contractions, lessens the pain, and helps the mother have a safe birth.”
Dash was no more than a mile away.
The next two hours were difficult and painful but beautiful. I was surrounded by women who cared, truly cared, for my baby and me. Everyone was calm, supportive and reassuring, and I wasn’t scared once. I felt like the pain couldn’t win when I was surrounded by such peace. And when my daughter came crying into the world with her daddy’s dark hair, I felt a love I’d never known.
“Melitta Agnes,” I said her name out loud in front of others for the very first time. “Welcome to the world.”
“What a lovely name,” Sunny said, putting her hand on the baby’s head and whispering a blessing that was between the two of them. “I know Agnes means pure and holy, but what does Melitta mean?”
I smiled up at her. “Honey bee or honey. It’s Greek.”
“How perfect.” She smiled at me, and kissed my cheek. “It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
I allowed myself two hours to hold and admire my girl. It was our time to get to know one another. At the end of my appointed two hours, I looked at Aggie.
“Would you please go get Dash?”
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Aggie looked at me knowingly, and we smiled at each other in perfect understanding.
“Oh, I’ll go get him.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.