I enjoy Spinster Aunt’s company. She likes to gossip, and her stories are usually filled with humor. She also has a wealth of information about pregnancy and unborn infants.
“Now that you are big, we can determine the sex without doubt,” she opines during another visit. “If your baby moves on the left side of your body, then it is a boy. If it moves on the right side, then it is a girl.” This doesn’t tell me the sex, since my baby likes to kick and punch me on both sides, but it reassures me that he or she is healthy and strong.
At last, Lady Kuo brings Midwife Lin to my room to introduce us. To me, she appears as wide as she is tall, with a face like a rotting apple. Under my motherin-law’s watchful eyes, the midwife palpates my abdomen and declares that the baby will arrive within days. The servants are pulled into action, bringing all the things that will be needed when labor starts: the birthing basin filled with straw to catch the pollutants that will flow out of me, coal in a basket by the brazier for heating water, a rope tied to the roof of my bed for me to hang on to when I’m ready to expel the baby. They also set out toweling to clean the baby once it arrives, swaddling to keep it warm, and a container to hold the placenta. Four nights later, my baby announces its desire to leave the child palace. Spinster Aunt is roused from her bed and brought in to assist. Midwife Lin lays out the most important tools of her trade: a knife, string, and a special basin for washing the baby once it comes out.
I’ve attended many births. I know what to expect, and it’s not this. The contractions get stronger, but the baby refuses to complete its journey. Hours pass. I hang on to the rope, letting the weight of my body encourage the baby to come down, while at the same time pulling myself up so that my open parts never touch the straw beneath me. Spinster Aunt positions herself in front of me so I can lean against her when the spasms come. Between contractions, she rubs my back, massages my stomach, and whispers, “Relax. Rest. Breathe.” Nothing helps. More hours pass. I’m exhausted.
As expected when difficulties arise during a labor, a doctor is summoned. Doctor Wong arrives and takes a position behind a screen. He proposes different tactics to help things along. “We will have her eat raw egg whites, which will help the baby to slip out,” he orders. I swallow the slimy contents of a small cup and promptly throw it up. He has me ingest the brain marrow from a rabbit. “Rabbits are fast,” he says. For me, the rabbit concoction is a lot faster on the way out than it was on the way in. I feel in my body that whatever Doctor Wong suggests will have a bad outcome. Still, I hear him behind the screen talking to my motherin-law as he changes strategy once again, saying, “Sometimes it’s best to let these things happen on their own.”
On the morning of the second day, I’m so worn out and my thighs so cramped from the squatting position that I collapse. Spinster Aunt wipes my forehead. Midwife Lin murmurs encouraging words, but the look on her face tells me she’s worried. I roll into a ball when the next contraction hits. The pain is so great that it slices into my head as cleanly and as sharply as a streak of lightning. When the spasm retreats and my mind can focus enough to send words from my mouth, I say, “Bring me tea.”
Poppy shuffles forward with the pot and a cup. “No,” I say. “It’s not for me to drink. Pour it on my hand.”
Everyone knows that drinking tea is better than water straight from a well. One can make a person sick; the other doesn’t. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the astringency in the leaves. I think these things as the fluid stings my hand. Then I take a breath and use my wet fingers to explore the childbirth gate. I feel something, and it’s not a head. I groan as I pull out my hand.
“What is it?” the midwife asks.
“The baby is coming leg first,” I answer.
Midwife Lin draws the back of her fist to her mouth and sits back on her haunches. Spinster Aunt moans her distress. From the other side of the screen, my motherin-law demands that someone inform her of what’s happening. This is followed by a similar request from the doctor. I can see in the midwife’s eyes that this situation is beyond her.
I scream when the next contraction hits—from the pain as my baby’s foot exits the childbirth gate and touches air, from the knowledge that I’m going to die, and from the sadness that I doubt the midwife has the knowledge to cut the baby from my belly once I’m gone so that he or she can live.
I don’t know how much time passes. The stabbing pains in my body are excruciating. Every time another contraction batters me, my mind goes white. Then, a voice…
“Yunxian, we’re here.”
From the chasm where my mind has been hiding, I try to swim back.
“Yunxian, open your eyes. I’m here. My mother too.”
“Meiling…”
“Yes, it’s me. You can thank Poppy later. Now, try to relax. Let Mama and me look.”
Another spasm. I drift on a black sea as the three midwives talk.
“I did what I could,” Midwife Lin confesses plaintively.
“I thank you for keeping her alive,” Midwife Shi says. “Now all energies must be put to getting the baby out. Extreme measures must be sought.”
“Poppy, can you bring ink and a brush?” Meiling asks.
Doctor Wong’s garbled shouts swirl on the sea around me. “You must listen… I am the doctor… Lady Kuo wants…”
Another contraction. Will it be seconds or minutes before the next one?
Meiling puts her lips to my ear. “I’m going to write a message on the sole of your baby’s foot. Just three characters. Go back home.” I have no awareness of her doing this, but I know she’s finished when she speaks loud enough for all to hear. “What Mama will do next will not hurt the baby, but you will feel it. We’re going to lift you up. Take hold of the rope. Yes, it’s hard, but you can do it.”
Two pairs of hands help me back into position. I grab the rope. Spinster Aunt’s soft belly cushions my left side. Meiling’s familiar arms embrace my right side. Midwife Shi holds up a pin for me to see.
“Your baby has received our message on his foot. What I do next will encourage him to obey, but it must be done with great precision or the baby will be tempted to reach up and grab your heart.”
Meaning I could die.
“No mud, no lotus,” Meiling says encouragingly. “You’re in pain now, but soon you will cradle a son in your arms.”
I tighten my hands on the rope. Four arms support me. Midwife Shi pricks my baby’s foot with the pin. I scream when my baby yanks its foot and leg back up into its longtime home. For the next hour, Midwife Shi massages my abdomen until the baby is moved into the proper head-down position. Suddenly, as if all the hours before have not occurred, the baby whooshes out. Without a word, Midwife Shi wraps it and carries it behind the screen to Lady Kuo and Doctor Wong. The infant cries, which tells me it’s alive, but I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.
I hang from the rope until the placenta comes out. I want to lie down, but the two pairs of arms hold me upright.
“Let all the noxious dew run out of you,” Meiling urges.
When my motherin-law swishes into view and out the door, I understand that I’ve given birth to a girl—a terrible disappointment for the family, a letdown for the doctor and his reputation, and a failure for me. My next sinking thought is that I’ll have to go through all this again. And again. And again. Until I birth a son.
* * *
For the next twenty-eight days, I must remain secluded while I “do the month,” so I’ll be protected from the eyes of those who harbor unfriendly thoughts toward me and from any demons who might want to cause trouble in the form of illness or death to me or my daughter. “You may not wash your hair or bathe, because you shouldn’t be exposed to the yin effects of those activities,” Spinster Aunt cautions me the morning after I have given birth. Then she tells me that Doctor Wong has dismissed Midwife Lin, blaming her for the difficulties of my labor, and that Midwife Shi has been pulled away to deliver a baby in another household. “Lady Kuo has asked Midwife Shi’s daughter to come this afternoon to check on you.” It is a welcome surprise for which I’m extremely thankful.