Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2006.- Licia
"So... so great-great-grandfather took part in the Rebellion and died for his part in it." Tim yawned, and Kathleen chuckled softly, running her fingers through her son's hair.
"Aye, it 'ppears so." She whispered, setting the death certificate side. They'd spent the last several hours going through everything and cross-referencing things in the diary with the papers that had been tucked away in the attic. So far, everything matched up, or appeared to, anyway. She glanced at the clock on the wall.
Ten minutes past ten.
"We all bes' ge' t' bed. We've been a' this all nigh' an' 'twill still be 'ere in th' mornin'." She stood, gathering everything into a neat pile and setting it beside the diary and tree. After minor protest that ended in yawns, Tim and Sarah headed upstairs. Kathleen put the mugs in the sink, letting her mind wander, before she turned off the light and followed the kids upstairs.
As soon as Tim's head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.
Her movements were slow, sluggish almost, for the weight she carried before her. Kit would have her hide if she caught her out of bed- for her pains could begin any time now- but she couldn't stay confined to that room another moment. It was a long, slow process, moving down the stairs, but eventually, she made it into the parlor, and slowly made her way into the kitchen.
"Is ev'rythin' a'ight, Mis'ress?" Molly, the young kitchen maid asked, as the others politely excused themselves. She nodded, resting her hands against her back.
"I jus'... need'd t'... t' no' be in tha' room any long'r, Molly, 'tis all." She replied, releasing a slow breath. The pain in her lower back was starting to annoy her; she had an inkling of what it was, but chose to ignore it. "Confin'd t' a room f'r th' las' four days... no' 'llowed t' ev'n see me own chil'ren... rid'culous." She muttered, making her way to the stove, but Molly beat her to it. "I simply wan' a cup o' tea, Molly."
"Le' me ge' i' f'r ye, Mis'ress." With a sigh, the young woman nodded, stepping back to allow her to work.
"Shoul' ye no' be res'in'?" Zipporah turned at the voice, a look of annoyance gracing her pretty features.
"I canna spen' 'noth'r mom'nt in tha' bed, Fiona." The oldest O'Shea daughter chuckled softly, making her way towards her sister-in-law. "twill go crazy, an' then ye will 'ave t' sen' me t' Bethlem in Lond'n."
"Where th' babe shall be born in 'orrid cond'tions. No, 'tis bes' ye r'main 'ere." Fiona replied jokingly, though there was something masked within her tone. Something Zipporah only barely picked up on, but didn't push. She hissed, closing her eyes tight against the pain radiating throughout her lower back, mouth screwing up in an attempt to keep quiet, but Fiona had noticed, as had Molly and Kit, who had entered with Aileen, and stopped the conversation they were having at the look on Zipporah's face.
"Zippi? Wha's wrong?"
"'tis nothin'." She replied when able to catch her breath again, and she took the cup from the maid with a soft smile.
"Are ye sure?" Aileen asked, green eyes filling with worry. She remembered the day her own son had been born back in aught-nine, how she'd tried to deny the pain making itself known, until the breaking of her waters had made it plane as day what she was experiencing. "Zippi, if yer time 'as c'me-"
"It 'asn't, Aileen." Zipporah snapped, meeting her sister-in-law's gaze. "'tis jus' fr'm... fr'm th'... weigh' o' th' babe... nothin' m're-" She bit her lip, another pain making itself known, and she dropped the cup; it shattered at her feet.
"Zipporah?"
"Zippi, wha' is it?"
Fiona took her sister-in-law's hand, by the strength of her grip, she knew what her brother's wife had been denying. "Yer time's c'me, 'asn't it?"
Zipporah shook her head, teeth digging into her lower lip, as she reached down to cradle the bottom of her belly. "No... it canna be... Timothy is no' 'ome..." She let out a cry as her sisters exchanged glances, and pulled her hand back from the bottom of her belly. Her fingers were wet, the material of her dress soaked. She could feel the water at her feet, as it ran down her legs in rivulets; try as she might to deny it, her body was working against her.
"Yer wat'rs 'ave broken." Fiona whispered, pulling her close and gently running a hand through her sister's hair. Molly set the broom aside.
"I'll fetch th' midwife, Mrs. Phillips." Fiona nodded as the young maid rushed off, before turning to her younger sisters. "We bes' ge' 'er back upstairs-"
"No' th' birthin' room, Fiona. 'tis silly Victorian sup'rstition. Th' babe shall no' be born devian' if 'tis born in th' same bed 'twas conceiv'd in." Kit replied, and Fiona chuckled.
"'twas goin' t' say, ge' 'er back upstairs an' make sure she's comf'rtable, f'r God only knows 'ow long 'til this babe 'rrives." Kit blushed, but quickly nodded as Aileen took Zipporah's other hand and her two older sisters helped the laboring young mother back upstairs. She stood in the kitchen, gaze moving to the water on the floor, and a twinge of envy tugged at her heart.
"Sarah Katherine!"
She quickly grabbed a few towels and darted upstairs, bursting into the room to find Fiona and Aileen on either side of Zipporah, who was sitting up among the blankets of her and Timothy Michael's marriage bed. They'd helped her to remove her dress and undergarments, leaving her in only her shift, which was pushed up to her thighs. Her dark hair was falling out of the bun she'd placed it in, strands clinging to her neck and cheeks, and she let a groan escape between her clenched teeth as she dug her nails into Fiona and Aileen's hands. She'd closed her legs, and tried her hardest to ignore the contractions working through her body. It was in that moment that Kit realized just how tiny Zipporah was. For a tiny, little wisp of a girl to bear three children... to grow so big when she was so, so tiny...
"Don' jus' stan' there, Sarah! 'elp us!" Fiona snapped, forcing her youngest sister to rush to the basin and pour fresh water into it, soaking one of the towels before she wrung it out and returned to the bed. "Wha' 'as gott'n int' ye t'day, Sarah Katherine? D' ye no' no'ice our Zipporah's gone int' labour?"
The younger woman didn't answer, instead, she reached over, dabbing at her sister-in-law's skin, brushing it against her lips and down her neck, over the slightly exposed skin of her heaving bosom. Zipporah let out a whine, pulling away from Kit as another contraction started. "Where's th' mi'wife?" Aileen asked, cradling Zipporah's hand in both of hers. "Shh, 'tis okay, Zippi. 'twill be ov'r soon."
"D' no'... lie t' me, Aileen Elizabeth. This babe... 'twill no' c'me... f'r hours..."
Eventually, they heard footsteps on the stairs, and Molly burst into the room, the midwife following. "Ah, Mrs. O'Shea, I see yer time 'as c'me. Thank ye, Molly." Without another word, the maid left, scampering down the stairs as the midwife shut the door after removing her coat and setting her bag down and making her way to the basin to quickly wash her hands. "Shall we 'ave a look? See 'ow far ye are?" Kit scampered away as the older woman made her way towards the bed. She climbed up on it, pushing the shift Zipporah wore up slightly before checking the labouring mother's progress. "Aye, well, 'tis still early. I susp'ct th' babe will no' c'me f'r a few hours a' leas'."
And for a few hours was right.
From six that morning, when her waters had broken over the kitchen floor, until four that afternoon, Zipporah was caught in the unending pain of labour, as the contractions worked through her body, turning her insides to jelly and making her half-sick, as the pain made her delirious with panic and fear, as she screamed for her husband, begging Fiona or Aileen or Kit to fetch him for her. At one point, she grabbed Kit's wrist, tugging the younger woman close. "Please, Sarah! He nee's t' be 'ere! Bring 'im 'ome! Please!" Kit had tugged herself out her sister-in-law's grasp, stumbling back until she landed on the floor, too horrified to speak. She looked up at Fiona, who simply shook her head, the meaning clear,
There's nothin' we can d' f'r her.
Zipporah then proceeded to curl onto her side, wrapping her arms around her belly and pull her knees as close to her chest as she could, sobs wracking her small frame. The sight of their sister-in-law, normally so strong, reduced to tears in the middle of labour unnerved all three sisters, though they knew it wasn't just the familiar pain of childbirth that was causing this, but something much, much worse. Yes, labour and childbirth was one mass of endless pain all in the effort to bring a tiny, defenseless being into the world that was more parasitic than human, and yes, for both Aileen and Fiona, the pain had been almost unbearable, but this-
It was as though the very fabric of Zipporah's soul was dying, though neither would ever admit it.
Her labour continued, the contractions getting closer and closer together, until they slid one into the other, trapping Zipporah in an endless ring of pain. Among her screams, the midwife managed to check the young mother, pressing gently at her opening, and finding the babe's head appear and then disappear with each contraction. Eventually, after several strong contractions, she could feel the head against her fingers, and met Zipporah's gaze. "Th' babe's beginnin' t' 'ppear, Mrs. O'Shea."
Over the next hour or so, the babe slowly began to crown, and Zipporah clung tight to Fiona and Aileen's hands, begging them to make the burning stop. She kicked out at one point, in a weak attempt to end her torment, and her screams echoed off the walls of the house, embedding themselves forever in the wood and stone. It would be these screams that would one day wake her great-great-grandchildren from their sleep, but at that moment, they were simply the screams of a mother trapped in labour.
It was not uncommon for labour and childbirth to last most of the day; a woman was lucky if her labour was short and the childbirth even shorter. Zipporah was not that lucky; her two previous births had been as long if not longer than this, and there had been a point during the birth of her daughter where she had nearly lost her life, as was to common at the time. But Zipporah was strong, and Death would not come for her for another seventy years.
With her shift pushed up just slightly over her belly, the midwife was able to focus on the young mother's progress. She gently rested her fingers against the babe's crown, a good portion of it was visible from within its mother's opening now, and after a moment, the midwife pushed the young woman's legs farther apart when she closed them again. "Ye canna stop this, Mrs. O'Shea! Th' babe's c'min'! Ye 'ave t' push!"
Zipporah shook her head, letting out a scream as the next contraction slowly pushed the babe's head further out. "Don' make me, please!"
"Yer body 'twill make ye, Zippi, no' us." Aileen replied, pressing a kiss to her sister-in-law's hand. Kit stayed back, worry and fear filling her green eyes at the scene before her.
"I know i' 'urts, Mrs. O'Shea, bu' th' only way 'twill stop is f'r ye t' push th' babe ou'!" Zipporah shook her head with a cry. "Aye! Ye mus'! 'tis ready t' be born, an' ye canna deny i' entr'nce int' th' world!"
"Zippi, please! Me broth'r woul' no' wan' t' see ye like this! Please, Zippi, push! Yer babe needs t' c'me ou'!" Aileen begged, holding tight to the young mother's hand.
Zipporah shook her head violently; as long as she was still in control of her body, her child would not be born. For if it was born... if it was born, it meant her husband, her beloved Timothy Michael, was dead and gone from this world, and she would not, could not, bear the weight of such a loss. Her heart, her very soul, would not be able to take it, for he was her soulmate, her true love...
Fiona watched, tears in her eyes; she understood what drove Zipporah to fight such a natural urge to expel her child from her body: hope. The hope her husband was still alive, the hope he would return to her, the misguided hope that if she just kept the babe within her womb, her husband's premonition would not come true. But she also knew that Zippi was fighting a losing battle; eventually, her body's natural desire would win out, and she would be forced to birth, no matter how she fought. Her child would arrive and her husband would die, as was the natural order of things, and no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it.
Another contraction; a scream escaped her throat and she dug her nails into Aileen and Fiona's hands, kicking out at the midwife and attempting to close her legs again, but all she managed was to clamp her knees shut; the midwife grabbed her ankles, forcing her legs apart once more. She understood Mrs. O'Shea's reluctance, she'd assisted many a labouring young widow in her time, but eventually, they all understood that it was for the good of the babe. But Mrs. O'Shea-
It was common knowledge that Zipporah O'Shea was stubborn, set in her ways and often unwilling to see the compromise without hard facts. She had learned that the hard way when she'd assisted Mrs. O'Shea in her first birth; the young woman had read every book she could get her hands on in regards to childbirth- not that there were many out there- and had informed her that she did not need the assistance of a midwife and that she would make sure her husband paid her for her time. The young mother had quickly learned that when it came to childbirth and labour, she did not run the show, that she was at the mercy of her own body for however long labour lasted, and that she had no say in what happened at all while the babe was making its entrance into the world. Barely survived her first, she had, and she'd learned her lesson. But this-
The young mother was putting her desires ahead of her child's, an action that would get both her and the babe killed if she didn't listen to reason; but her mind was so clouded by grief- anyone with two eyes could see it was grief she was fighting- she wasn't able to listen to anything or anyone. She knew a woman in the midst of grief was inconsolable, but a labouring young woman, at the brink of childbirth... near impossible to console.
"Lis'en t' me, Zippi." Fiona's voice was thick with tears, for she knew the pain her sister-in-law was going through, not just the labour, but the grief for her husband. Though not dead yet, it was only a matter of time before Timothy Michael drew his last breath, and she knew that when that happened, they all would feel it. She pulled the younger woman into her arms, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. The young woman was dripping in sweat and shaking badly; the dark curls she was known for matted to her forehead, and every so often, Fiona caught a glimpse as her belly moved up and to the right whenever caught in a contraction- something, now that Fiona was no longer having children, she realized had happened with her as well. "Zippi, lis'en t' me!" She caught the other woman's chin in her hand. "Zipporah Grace O'Shea, ye lis'en t' me an' ye lis'en goo'!"
The labouring young mother took a shaky breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a strangled scream of pain escaped her lips, and Fiona released her, letting the contraction pass before she spoke again. Zipporah pulled away from both her sisters-in-law, laying her hands on her belly, the material of her shift pushed up, exposing the great round swell that her and Timothy Michael's child had grown in for the last nine months. A strangled cry escaped her throat, and she kicked out at the midwife, who promptly forced her legs apart to examine her. "'tis near fully crown'd; it will no' wai'. Th' babe mus' c'me now, or neith'r i' n'r its moth'r will surv've."
Fiona turned back to her sister-in-law, one thought crossing her mind, I 'alf fear 'tis wha' she wan's.
She grabbed Zipporah's shoulders, turning to her younger sister. "Aileen, 'elp me!" A moment passed, before the two women managed to get the young mother laying back amongst the pillows; Zipporah kicked out, but the midwife grabbed her ankles, forcing her to keep her legs spread as the contractions got stronger and stronger, until they seemed to rip through the young woman's body.
"No! No... le' me... please... Fiona... please... le' me... oh!" She let out a scream as another contraction grabbed her around the middle and twisted, ripping through her like a bullet through flesh.
"Look a' me, Zipporah! Zipporah Grace, look a' me!" Once she had her sister-in-law's dark gaze, Fiona continued. "Ye 'ave t'- aye, ye mus'!" She continued at the younger woman's shake of her head. "If ye don', yer babe will die an' ye will sur'ly die wit' it."
"Then le' me!" Zipporah cried, tears trailing down her cheeks in rivers. "Le' me die, then!"
"An' leave Nellie an' Joseph orphans, 'avin' los' both their fath'r, moth'r an' sibling? No."
"A' leas' 'twill be wit'-"
"Our broth'r woul' no' wan' ye t' die in this way, no' whe' ye can so eas'ly prev'nt i'! T' be so self'sh, Zipporah O'Shea! Timothy Michael woul' nev'r f'rgive ye!" She tugged her sister-in-law up, settling just slightly behind her so the mother could lean back against her if needed. "Ye're t' birth this babe, Zipporah, an' ye're t' birth i' now."
Zippi groaned as another contraction followed hard and fast on the heels of the last ones; Fiona and Aileen took her hands, giving her their strength. For though they had not lost a husband, it was their brother who would very soon meet his death, and all four O'Shea women would need each other to survive such a devastating blow.
"Sarah!" Kit looked up from her place by the door; she had forced herself to watch, not having the strength to flee, and slowly lifted her head. After a moment, she joined the others on the bed, slipping behind Zipporah and wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law, just below her breasts, giving her support. She pressed a kiss to the dark curls and took a shaky breath. Another contraction ripped through Zipporah's small body, and she let out a scream that put the bean si to shame.
"'tis fully crown'd! Ye mus' push, Mrs. O'Shea! Now! Push!"
Her body took control then, doing as the midwife ordered. Legs spread wide, her sisters supporting her, Zipporah Grace O'Shea felt her body bear down, pushing as hard as possible; slowly, the head began to come out. Another contraction, another push, and another and another until the head was fully out. On instinct, she went to close her legs, but the gentle brush against the babe's head forced her legs to fall open again, and she gasped for breath. "Keep pushin', Mrs. O'Shea! Th' 'ead 'tis ou', ye mus' continue t' push!"
"Head... th'... th' 'ead..."
"Aye, th' 'ead. Tha' means ye're almos' done, Zippi. Now push." Fiona replied, as Zipporah burst into tears, her body doing as told. Slowly, very slowly, a shoulder began to make its appearance, followed by the other. The pain got worse, to the point where she was certain she would not be able to live through it. But she continued, long into the early hours of the evening; the babe took its time arriving in the world, and through it all, Kit, Aileen and Fiona stayed be her side, giving her their strength, for she had none.
At half past six, the midwife looked up; the young mother was exhausted, for she'd been at this for hours. All four O'Shea women wore looks of exhaustion and worry, and she wished she could make it easy. As was, she would not give them half-truths. "Almos'." She informed them, meeting Zipporah's gaze. The labouring young woman was drenched in sweat, her small body shaking uncontrollably; she feared another child would kill the young woman, and so was silently grateful this was the last. "Ye're almos' there, Mrs. O'Shea."
Zipporah nodded, closing her eyes briefly and resting her head back against Kit's shoulder. "I can'... I can'... please... don' make me..." She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes and tucking her head against Kit's neck.
"Zippi? Zippi!" Kit's green eyes widened in horror as she turned to Fiona, who reached over, gently tapping her sister-in-law's cheek.
"Zipporah. Zipporah! Op'n yer eyes! Zippi, loo' a' me! Zippi!" Slowly, dark eyes opened, meeting Fiona's, and the older woman sighed. "Ye're almos' done. Once th' babe's born, then ye can res'. C'me on, up ye ge'." Once she was sitting up again, the midwife nodded, meeting Zipporah's gaze.
"Push, Mrs. O'Shea!"
The labouring young woman did as told, bearing down as hard as she could, a scream escaping her throat in the process. Despite how much she loved her husband, she would never forgive him for putting her in this position, for leaving her to suffer this horrendous pain alone. She would never forgive him for not being here- out pacing the hall, as he'd done with her last two births- to meet his child once this was finished. "Make i' st'p! Please!"
"'twill st'p, Zippi, ye jus' nee' t' keep pushin'!" Aileen replied, squeezing her sister's hand in reassurance. Of all the O'Shea sisters, Aileen was perhaps the calmest. She saw things logically and rationally, and for that, with her critical eye and brilliant mind, was a brilliant mathematician- and so often helped her brother in the office at the stockyard. Married young, as was common, Aileen had done her duty and bore a son not long into their marriage; her husband had turned a blind eye when she chose other pursuits outside of the home, and she was hailed by many as the first female mathematician of Dublin, a title she carried with pride.
Another hour passed in slow agony, as the babe slowly made its appearance into the world. The midwife gently supported the babe's head; she glanced up at the four young women, catching Zipporah's gaze. "'tis almos' ou', Mrs. O'Shea. Push!" The mother did as ordered, struggling to catch her breath. "'gain, Mrs. O'Shea! Push!"
"I can'!"
"Aye, ye can! Now push!"
She continued to bear down, minute after agonizing minute passed by at a snail's pace. Collapsing back into her sisters' arms, she shook her head, meeting Fiona's gaze. "Don' make me-"
"Ye 'ave t', Zippi. 'tis almos' ov'r. C'me on." They helped her to sit up, being her support and strength as she straightened and bore down as hard as she could.
What felt like the ripping of skin suddenly overcame her; no, it was more like the shattering of her heart. She suddenly couldn't breathe, and feared her heart had stopped altogether. A quick glance at the others in turn told her they had also felt it, and despite her desire to ask, her body took control, forcing her to bear down once more as a scream ripped from her lungs-
The screams of a newborn reached her ears, pushing through the fog and grief, and she collapsed back against her sisters. She looked from Fiona to Aileen. "'e... 'e's gone... Timothy Michael... me 'usband's gone..." Fiona nodded silently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Fresh tears trailed rapidly down her cheeks as the girls seemed to curl around her, in an attempt to protect her. "Me... me babe..." She turned back to the midwife. "Pl... please..."
The midwife made her way towards them, laying the baby, now cleaned, wrapped in a blanket, and severed from its mother, in her arms. "Congra'ulations, Mrs. O'Shea. Ye 'ave a son."
Zipporah turned her gaze to the baby in her arms. "'e was righ'. Timothy Michael was righ'. We 'ave a son..." She met her sisters' gazes, before turning back to the babe in her arms. "Michael Thomas... I love ye, so much, Michael Tomas..."
A scream jarred Tim from his sleep, and he sat up, trying desperately to figure out where it had come from. After quickly climbing out of bed and checking the halls- only to find Sarah doing the same- he returned to bed, figuring it would probably be best to go searching in the morning.