The Midwife's Tale

© 2002 by Mary Lechleidner

Published by Bethany House Publishers

11400 Hampshire Avenue South

Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

www.bethanyhouse.com

Bethany House Publishers is a division of

Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

Originally published by St. Martin’s Press as
A
Place Called Trinity

This edition published 2015

Ebook edition created 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

ISBN 978-1-4412-2851-2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Dan Thornberg, Design Source Creative Services

Author is represented by Linda Kruger

Dedicated to the loving memory of my sisters,

Kathy and Susan

Wish you’d stayed here . . . just a little longer.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

Author’s Note

About the Author

Books by Delia Parr

Back Ads

Back Cover

Acknowledgments

So many have blessed me in my journey as a writer and in the creation of this book. I need to thank my sister, medical consultant, and frontline “editor,” Carol Beth Hatz, RN, and her husband, Bob, for opening their summer home to me each year before I retired. It gave me the freedom to spend endless hours each day at the beach dreaming and writing. Thanks also to my sisters, Patricia Schmidt and Joanne Liberatore, and my brother, John Lechleidner, for believing in me. You give true meaning to the word “family.”

I also want to thank Joseph and Peg Sheehan, treasured friends who never let me doubt myself; Linda Opdyke, the world’s best critiquing partner, for teaching me how to be a writer; and Jeanne Seybold, colleague and sister-by-affection, for listening, advising, and keeping me honest.

Writing this book, as well as the entire trilogy, would not have been possible without the constant loyalty of my agent, Linda Kruger, who is my friend, sister-in-faith, and a cheerleader of
the first order. My publishing family at Bethany House and my editor, David Long, are a true answer to prayer. Thank you all.

And finally, to my children, Matt, Brett, and Elizabeth, for loving such a “crazy ole mom,” for marrying wonderful spouses and giving me six amazing grandchildren who spoil me with unconditional love.

May all your days be blessed . . . and may you all know the full measure of His never ending love.

1

J
UNE
1830
W
ESTERN
P
ENNSYLVANIA

A
full two weeks later than expected, the blessed moment had finally arrived.

Surrounded by a cadre of female assistants, midwife Martha Cade knelt before her patient under the watchful gaze of the soon-to-be father. She was fully satisfied, if not pleasantly surprised, at how quickly Diana Tyler’s labor was proceeding. At this rate, the babe should be born before breakfast, and Martha would finally be able to head for home.

Martha’s hands were steady. Her mind was focused. Her heart was starting to race. In an atmosphere charged with great expectations and high emotion, yet underlined with a respectful dose of healthy concern, her spirit trembled with anticipation. With years of experience to guide her, she knew that soon—very, very soon—she would bear witness to life’s greatest miracle.

She glanced up at Captain Tyler, who held his wife on his lap.
A large man, he dwarfed the collapsible birthing stool Martha carried with her for deliveries. Beads of nervous perspiration dotted his brow. His lips were set in a firm line.

When he looked back at her, she answered the unspoken questions in his gaze with a reassuring smile. Then she turned all of her attention to his wife, Diana, a young woman with fine, wide hips and a strong constitution that should make for a quick and easy delivery. Her pregnancy had proceeded perfectly, with the exception of extending well beyond the time the baby had been expected.

Martha knew better than to count on anything as certain when dealing with pregnancy and birth, but for a first-time mother-to-be like Diana, each and every additional day that passed only fueled undue concern for her, not to mention discomfort.

Normally, Martha would simply have visited Diana every few days as her confinement neared an end to reassure her that all was well. The fact that Captain Tyler and his wife lived a full fifty miles from Martha’s home in Trinity had made that impossible. When Captain Tyler summoned Martha two weeks ago, expecting birth was imminent, nature surprised everyone but Martha, who always left home prepared for the unexpected.

She did not relish being so far away from home and her daughter, Victoria, now a young woman of seventeen, for so long. Martha’s duties as the only midwife and healer in the area, however, carried heavy responsibilities and offered rewards, both monetary and spiritual, that often meant sacrifice—sacrifice she had been forced to make once she had been left widowed with two children to support and raise on her own.

Although burdened with the sorrows of early widowhood more than ten years ago, Martha had been blessed with a supportive family. Her son, Oliver, now lived in Boston, where he
practiced law. She and Victoria shared a room in her brother’s tavern in Trinity, which allowed Martha to leave to attend her patients, confident her brother, James, and his wife, Lydia, would provide guidance to Victoria while Martha was away.

Freed from other concerns, Martha had been able to give her full attention to Diana these past two weeks, offering comfort and reassurance. With the birth of Diana’s child now truly imminent, Martha was both excited and thrilled, and she studied her patient closely.

Damp tendrils of dark hair framed Diana’s face. Her eyes were dulled from pain as she sat on her husband’s lap. Martha offered her a broad smile as she lifted the woman’s birthing gown and placed her hands on Diana’s knees. “When the next forcing pain starts, I want you to push. Hard. One more good forcing pain should do it. This babe is in a mighty big hurry to get here,” she teased.

Diana’s eyes lit with surprise, and she laughed nervously. “A hurry? He’s two weeks late!”

“Well, he or she is making up for lost time. So when I tell you, push. Push hard. And keep your feet flat on the floor. Nature and I will do the rest.” She turned and nodded to the women on either side of her who had a firm but gentle hold on Diana’s hands. “Our work is just about done, ladies.”

When the forcing pain began, Diana’s smile quickly disappeared. Her brows knitted together, and she clenched her teeth. Deep groans spurred Martha to action, and she rested her hands on the soft, warm flesh surrounding the birth canal.

“Push!”

Diana’s groans turned into one short, shrill scream as the baby’s head emerged, and Martha cradled it in the palms of her hands as more fluids emerged.

“Relax. Just relax a moment. That’s a good mama. Take a
breath,” she urged as the pain receded and Diana closed her eyes. “Now another good, deep breath. Then one more forcing pain, and you’ll have your baby.”

Diana gritted her teeth and opened one eye. “You said that with the last pain.”

Martha chuckled. “One more. I promise.”

When Diana’s body grew rigid with the next forcing pain, Martha edged a little closer and braced herself. “Push, Diana, push!” One of the baby’s shoulders emerged. “Keep pushing!”

Once the infant slid free, safely captured by Martha’s hands, Diana collapsed against her husband, panting for air, as the echoes of her cries gradually receded.

While the other women tended to Diana, Martha leaned back on her haunches and brought the spewing babe out from beneath the nightdress and laid him on her lap. “You have a son, Captain. A very lusty, healthy son,” she cried, just loud enough to be heard above the baby’s cries, which filled the sparsely furnished bedchamber.

With practiced skill, she made quick work of wiping the baby a bit, cut the cord, and wrapped the baby in a blanket. For several quick heartbeats, Martha gazed at the newborn, mesmerized by the true miracle she beheld, evidence of His love and His power to create life—life He entrusted to Martha to bring into the world and to this young couple to raise according to His Word.

Precious in his innocence, baby Tyler blinked repeatedly until he was finally able to open his eyes. He quieted and stared up at her, all plump and pink and so recently from heaven itself, she half expected to find wings tucked behind his back.

She stroked one side of his downy cheek and smiled at him. “A blessed welcome to the world, child,” she crooned before lifting him up and placing him in his mother’s anxious arms.

With tenderness and awe, Diana cradled her son against
her breast while her husband gazed at his newborn child over her shoulder. His eyes misted before he turned to his wife and nuzzled the side of her face with his lips. “Thank you for my son,” he whispered.

Jubilant, but exhausted, Diana leaned toward her husband and pressed her face to his before she looked down at Martha. “Thank you. For staying with me all this time. For coming so far. For helping me so much. All of you,” she added as she glanced at the friends and neighbors who had gathered today to offer their assistance.

Martha watched as the newborn typically captured everyone’s attention. She let the gathering of women offer congratulations and generous compliments for a few moments before she called them all back to work. As thrilling as the birth of the baby might be, Martha needed to close the loin, and Diana needed to be washed and set back to bed, where she could rest and hold her baby in greater comfort.