When Immah answered the knock at the door, she saw a frightened boy in a short tunic. His face reddened slightly, and he look down at the ground, nervously shuffling his feet in the dirt.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am," he began, his voice barely audible, "but is this the home of the midwife?"

"Certainly, young man," Immah answered kindly. "Does your mother require my service?"

The boy's face reddened even further. "Well, not exactly…" He began wringing his hands. "Please don't be angry with me for asking, but do you only help human mothers?"

He cringed, as if he expected to be violently driven away, but Immah lightly placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Taking care of one's flocks and herds is important as well," she stated. "It is the livelihood of one's family. What seems to be the trouble?"

The boy looked up, his face clearly expressing his relief. "One of my master's ewes is struggling to lamb. My father is beaten every time a lamb is lost. We don't have much money, but maybe we could…"

"Bits of fleece you can't sell at the market?"

The young visitor actually smiled. "Oh, you want those? We're always looking for ways to get rid of them!"

Immah was clever. She could make from leftover material what wealthy women struggled to make with a surplus.

I usually accompanied Immah when she helped a woman, human or otherwise, bring forth her baby, but the census had turned our quiet town into a bustling city, so we had decided it was best if only one of us left home in case two women needed our services at the same time. We had already had quite the busy week.

I envied Immah. She would spend the late afternoon and early hours of the evening helping a ewe give birth in the field, and night may fall before she returned. Ever since the sky began to change, I wanted to be outdoors every chance I got, especially at night. I didn't know much about astronomy, but apparently, two stars were moving toward each other and would soon shine as one massive beam of light. When that happened, I wanted to be outside. I wanted an exciting story to tell my future children and grandchildren.

Battya helped me press fruit so we would have cakes with our evening meal. Abba would arrive home soon with Chabaqquwq, exhausted from a long day of making pottery. Abba always claimed the potter was more blessed than the smith, for the latter was far more likely to be tempted to forge idols for enough coins.

I was proud of Abba's pottery. It may not have made our family wealthy, but Abba's work was so skillful that priests often asked him to build vessels for the temple, such as basins or griddles. Abba never charged for such an item, saying it was not right to serve Elah for money. He also refused to charge widows or orphans for anything they needed.

"It is my gift to Elah to serve the people he loves," Abba claimed.

For people of poor families, he would accept barters of whatever they had. A bit of cloth or a basket of fruit would suffice as payment. For his richer customers, Abba charged a fair amount of coins, not taking advantage of their wealth by asking for more than what the item was worth. He was an honest man, and no one ever had to hold his pottery to the light to examine it for the smallest crack or flaw.

I also admired the variety of items he could make from the ground most people ignored. His lamps shone in the dark streets, and women carried his pitchers to the well for water. Even the Romans kept their important documents in the jars formed by Abba's hands.

"How are babies born?" My sister's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Same way as baby animals," I answered.

Her eyes widened in horror. "You mean you have to look under the mother's robe?"

"It's a natural process. It's what a woman's body was designed to do."

"Aren't they embarrassed?"

"They're usually in too much pain," I explained, "but if they are embarrassed, we simply assure them that all women look the same, and we forget any specific details in moments. Besides, we're not there to stare at the mother's body. We just want to make sure she has a healthy baby."

Battya nodded. Her body had not yet gone through the changes that would transform her from girl to woman.

"Are the babies cute?" she asked.

I thought a moment. "Newborns aren't cute in the same way older babies are, but it's a miracle that any human being can be so small, and a woman goes from writhing in pain from something inside her body to holding new life in her arms. It's beautiful. There's nothing more precious than seeing one's own features on such a tiny face."

"The mothers must be so happy to have your help!"

"Not at first," I answered. "They scream and curse and blame the midwife for everything, but when they hold their babies, they feel joy beyond any I could describe."

Battya began mashing the chickpeas as I parched grain. The door opened, and Abba walked in with Chabaqquwq.

"It smells delicious!" my brother complimented.

"Not until we wash first," Abba gently reminded him.

"How was your day?" I asked.

Chabaqquwq grinned. "Abba let me use bits of leftover clay to make little toys for children!"

I smiled. Chabaqquwq had always loved children, and I knew he would make an excellent father when he finally married.

We had just gathered around the table when we heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Battya answered.

"Is your mother at home?" the man at the door replied. "One of my guests is in need of a midwife."

"I'm a midwife." I began gathering my supplies. "My sister and I will be with you in a few moments."

Battya stared at me in disbelief, but I thought if she was old enough to be curious about the work mother had taught me, she should see what would happen to her body when she was old enough to have her own family.

The sun had not yet begun to set as Battya and I followed the stranger through the streets. I tried not to stare at the Roman guards who patrolled our formerly tranquil city.

"So many of my distant relations have been arriving that I've run out of room," the man stated, "even with several guests sharing a room. When the woman's pains came upon her, she went to the lower room with the animals so she could get a bit more privacy than just giving birth in the main room."

I winced at the idea of a human infant born among livestock, but there seemed to be no help for it.

The man opened the door. "Yowceph! This woman says she's a midwife!"

My eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness, but I heard a man sigh in relief just before a woman screamed.

"Her pains are closer together than ever!" the man remarked. "She desperately needs help!"

"Can you bring me some warm water?" I asked. "And some cloth? And maybe a lamp or two? She'll also need a bowl of cool water for her face, and we may need some oil and something for her to smell."

"Yes."

"And what is your wife's name?"

"Miryam."

As my eyes gradually became accustomed to the dim light, I saw a woman about my age lying on some straw that I presume Yowceph had piled up for her. Her reddened face was so drenched with sweat that her dark hair clung to it. She screamed again.

"Good afternoon, Miryam," I greeted as warmly as I could. "My name is Avigayil, and this is my sister Battya, and we're here to help you meet your baby."

Her exhausted face showed gratitude as she gasped for air.

"Battya, can you take her hand?" I showed my sister how to take the mother's hand so Miryam could squeeze as hard as she liked without hurting Battya. "With your other hand, grip her shoulder."

Miryam screamed once more, writhing in anguish.

"See the stairs? Just focus on the top stair. Try to breathe in through your nose and slowly let the air out through your mouth."

The mother did her best to comply.

"That's it. May I feel your waist?"

She nodded, and I very gingerly felt the swelling of new life within her.

"The baby is very low. It will be born in no time."

The door opened, and a woman came in with cool water and cloth. Another woman followed her with lamps.

"Will the child be here soon?" the second woman asked.

"Before nightfall," I answered.

"I'll be back with the warm water."

I let Miryam have a sip of the cool water before I instructed Battya to dab her face. The mother closed her eyes and leaned in to the cloth.

To distract her between pains, I had Miryam tell me a bit about herself. She was from Nazareth. Her husband had come to Bethlehem for the census.

The other woman entered the room with the warm water she had promised. She also carried a bit of oil.

"Would you like her to stay and help?" I asked Miryam.

She managed a nod, and the other woman walked over to where the mother lay.

"Can you help me get her onto the birthing stool?"

She nodded.

"It will all be over soon," I promised Miryam. "Think of your beautiful baby snuggled up to your shoulder."

Miryam gripped Battya's hand tightly and screamed in torment.

I mixed some of the herbal mixture I had brought with the warm water, handing the bowl to the other woman. "Can you lightly rub this on her waist to relieve a bit of the pain?"

She complied.

A second woman entered the room. "Yael, you forgot these." She brought a clod of earth, a cut fruit, and some flowers. "Miryam, you must sniff these items if you feel yourself becoming faint."

"Can she help as well?"

"Yes," the mother rasped.

"If you two ladies will take her arms, and Battya, you just keep holding her hand and dabbing her face. Just like that. Thank you all. She's ready to push now."

"It may hurt more," Yael began, "but many women find that pushing is a relief."

"Yes," the other woman agreed. "It also means your baby will be here before you know it."

Miryam looked as if she were trying to feel encouraged, but instead, she just looked exhausted. However, she was stronger than she knew, and it wasn't long at all before I was instructing her to put all her effort into one final push. With a final scream, Miryam brought her baby into the world as I knelt at her feet.

"You have a son!" I announced jubilantly. "He is strong and healthy!"

I placed a cloth on the mother so she could hold her son for a few moments before I cleaned him. Battya helped cut the cord. To my surprise, she even offered to help clean up the afterbirth.

Miryam's eyes shone with an unnatural joy as she held her newborn close so he could nurse. The two women, presumably Yowceph's distant relatives, congratulated her.

"He's beautiful," I complimented. "You did so well, and look at your precious gem!"

The mother beamed. "What do I owe you? We don't have many coins, but my husband is a carpenter, so perhaps he could…"

"Nothing," I interrupted gently. "No woman should give birth surrounded by strangers and animals. You should have been with your mother and sisters to comfort you."

Miryam began wrapping her baby in swaddling clothes. "Thank you for your help. It was such a comfort to have a skilled midwife."

"Where will the baby sleep?"

"The manger in the main room," the mother answered. "It's a bit unusual, but the house is quite crowded."

I removed my shawl. "It's warm, and the material is very soft. He may sleep under this."

"We'll return it to you as soon as we can."

I shook my head. "It is my gift."

The baby stared at me with his warm, dark eyes peering out from his tiny face. He already had a full head of black hair.

"Tell your mother to send for me if she requires further assistance." I kissed the small hand nearest to me. "Farewell, dear one."

Although dusk had barely fallen as Battya and I made our way home, I could already one of the stars. It shone as if two stars had become one, brighter than any others I had ever seen.

"This is surely a blessed night!" I announced to Battya. "Elah will smile upon the baby, and he shall become a great man."

I scarcely spoke a word as we continued on our way. What can you say when you realize a potential leader is sleeping under your shawl? I had even kissed his hand!