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to work and can spend the days he is away in bed, which she does. When the bleeding starts again, she goes to consult a doctor but the waiting room is unbearably hot and crammed with people. Suddenly, she cannot catch her breath and the day turns black. She totters, but someone grabs her by the shoulders and guides her to a chair. Someone else fetches a glass of water. When she feels better she thanks the good samaritans and goes home to bed. She entertains herself by reading a book of folk tales which she buys in the bookstore on Khreshchatyk. She weeps when she reads the tale of the mother who sacrifices herself to make her infant well. The tale goes something like this: Once upon a time there was a mother who was more lovely than all other mothers. She had shining black hair that reached to her waist and a complexion that was as luminous as the mother of pearl. But her greatest beauty lay in her eyes. They were large and black and liquid like bottomless alpine lakes. Death envied the beauty of this mother and when the mother gave birth, Death made the baby ill. One night, as the mother sang a lullaby to ease the infant's pain, Death appeared. Death said: "If you give me your shining black hair, hair that is more lustrous than a sable's, the baby will live one more night." Without hesitation, the mother cut off her hair and gave it to Death. The following night, Death appeared again. "If you give me your translucent complexion that rivals the iridescent lining of the oyster, your baby will live another night." The mother agreed. On the third night, Death returned once more. "If you give me one of your black eyes, eyes that are as deep and mysterious as alpine pools, I will let your child live one more night." The mother gave Death her right eye. On the fourth night, Death said: "If you give me your left eye, an eye more radiant than a black opal, I will let your child live one more night." The mother gave Death her left eye. On the fifth night, Death stood by the crib again. "I have nothing left to give you," cried the mother. Death nodded and took the child away. Sonia weeps. When her time comes, Sonia returns to the village in the Polyssia forest. It is late autumn and the leaves in the forest have shriveled into gauze and fallen into the mud. Hanna feeds Sonia tea that she has brewed from herbs she has gathered especially for Sonia. The tea is bitter, but Sonia does not complain. She lets Hanna undress her and lies back when Hanna places her ear on Sonia's belly. Hanna jerks her head back, but Sonia does not notice, her head is lolling from side to side. A day passes, then another. Sonia talks of the child and opens the basket of miniature clothing she has made for the baby. She says that if the infant is a boy, Serge has agreed to name him Ostap, in honor of his grandfather, and if the child is a girl, her name will be Hanna. Ostap puffs up with pride, while Hanna smiles and nods, although her eyes are inscrutable. When Sonia cries and a torrent of water pours forth, Hanna is ready. It is evening and Hanna banishes Ostap to a neighbor's house for the night. She instructs him not to come back until she calls his name. He protests, but she makes him promise to leave her and Sonia alone. She feeds Sonia the bitter tea and lets her recline on the prepared bed. She rubs Sonia's huge belly with ointment. She instructs Sonia to lie on her side and applies the ointment to Sonia's spine. The salve will ease the pain and keep Sonia's body strong during the long delivery. Many hours will pass, Hanna knows, but she does not know how many. Sonia screams and thrashes, but the windows are shuttered and locked and the door is bolted on the inside. Hanna sits at her side and bathes her forehead with water and spoons the bitter tea potion into her mouth. The night moves through matins to aluds and to prime. The darkness grows milky. With a scream that rends the air and cuts Hanna's heart, Sonia heaves and Hanna knows the time has come. She stands between Sonia's legs and her biceps bulge as she pulls the fetus into the world. She uses her sharp knife to cut the infant free, raises it, slaps it on the buttocks, then quickly but minutely examines it. She sees two eyes, tightly shut, a nose like an unripe berry, a mouth that is opening for a lusty wail. So far, so good. The arms. Yes, there are two and each hand has five fingers, although she has to pry the left one open since it is cupped into a fist. She marvels. Infants do not form fists until they are two or three weeks old. Her eyes sweep downward, past the blood dripping from the naval to the tiny penis. Two testicles, Hanna's fingers tell her. The legs are sturdy and the toes curve under, each a tiny miracle in itself. The infant's skin is shriveled like the insides of Ostap's aging thighs, but she knows that will pass. A perfect newborn. Hanna cleans the baby with a moist warm towel, wraps the child in a blanket and puts it in the crook of Sonia's arm, the infant's mouth near Sonia's naked breast. She smiles, awed by the miracle of creation that for so many years has enchanted her and to which she has borne witness through countless births. But she knows the time to celebrate is not yet. She returns to her station at the foot of the bed. Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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