Excerpt of The Two?-Family House by Lynda Cohen Loigman

She walked down the stairs of the old two-family house in
the dark, careful not to slip. The steps were steep and
uneven, hidden almost entirely beneath the snow. It had
been falling rapidly for hours and there had been too
much excitement going on inside the house for anyone to
think about shoveling steps for a departing midwife.
Perhaps if the fathers of the two babies born had been
present, they would have thought to shovel. But the storm
had prevented their return, and neither had been home.

She breathed in the cold night air, happy to be outside
at last, away from the heat and closeness of the birthing
room. How grateful she was for the sudden burst of wind
that slammed the door shut behind her, shaking her out of
her exhaustion and signaling the finality of the evening.
She loved her work and cherished the intimacy of it. But
it was not a pleasure outing.

Before today she thought she had seen every permutation
of circumstance: the girls who cried out for their own
mothers even as they became mothers themselves; the older
women who marked themselves as cursed, suddenly bursting
with joy over a healthy child come to them at last. She
thought she had heard every kind of sound a person could
make, witnessed every expression the human face could
conjure up out of pain, joy or grief. That was what she
thought before this evening.

This night was different. Never before had she seen such
longing, pain and relief braided together more tightly.
Two mothers, two babies, born only minutes apart. She
had witnessed tonight what pure woman strength could
accomplish, how the mind could control the body out of
absolute desperation.

She had watched, and she had ignored. She had taken
charge, yet she was absent. She let them believe that
her confusion was real, that she was tired. But she was
never confused. She was not too tired to comprehend
their hopes. The fragile magic of that night had not been
lost on her.

She breathed in the air again, crisp and cold, clearing
her head. It had been a good night, two healthy babies
born to healthy, capable mothers. She couldn’t ask for
more. What happened now was out of her hands. Wholly and
completely she put it out of her mind, said her goodbyes
to the house on the steps and made her way home to go to
sleep. There would be more babies tomorrow, she knew,
and the constancy of her work would keep her thoughts
from this place. She promised herself never to think of
it again.