Author's Note: For back story: Bryce Mabo "Wolf" Cameron was introduced in the story 'Hell Hath No Fury' followed by appearances in 'The Wolf' and 'Full Metal Jacket'.
The latter story explained the importance of the second name 'Mabo' to the Cameron Clan.
Upon request by an avid reader, a story of Bryce and Belle's romance is currently being updated regularly, entitled 'Cameron Country'.
Background info: Some women in Africa and other parts of the world where women still give birth by instinct deliver their babies standing, squatting or kneeling. Some women do go from breaking their water straight to wanting to deliver their baby; skipping the long, first stage of labour. This chapter was taken from a personal experience of a dear friend, with the exception of the position of delivery which was a homage to women in Third world countries who bravely deliver their babies without access to modern medical intervention.
Tissue Alert applies.
Bush Baby
Preg-ger's Page was a-buzzed with daily blogs and photo releases of two new babies. According to proud parents Joe and Leslie di Nozzi, Oliver was thriving, and would be home in a few days. Billy and Raf, on the other hand, have not done much but lazed around their apartment bonding with baby El.
It was now down to Belle and Winnie, so they were fair game. A bet was on over who's going to pop a baby next. Winnie was sure she was pregnant ahead of Belle by a week so she reckon the money' should be on her. "I don't know" said Billy shaking her pixie head. "The Scarlatti genes has a tendency to dilly-dally," a reference to Spike's courtship with Winnie that could have gone nowhere had Leah Kearns not stepped in and played match maker.
"It only took him five years to get his act together," Billy concluded. "So definitely, my money's on Belle." But out of loyalty to Spike, Raf put his money on Mrs Scarlatti.
"That's brilliant," said Spike, "Your win would cancel out her loss."
But in reality, privately, Spike was beside himself. "It's taking too long," he fretted obsessively to Winnie. In an effort to calm himself down, he called Wordy one afternoon when he was especially morose about it. He reckoned with three kids, the big bald man ought to know.
The gentle giant was surprised to see Spike's name on the screen of his iphone, he answered cheerily, "What's up?"
His former team mate at SRU wasn't his usual self, "I'm worried," he said, "our pregnancy is taking too long.
Wordy laughed, "What do you mean taking too long? Buddy, she's not even due yet. She's what? 38 week?
"Yeah, more or less..."
"See, there you go! Spike, statistically first kids take longer to pop out. From memory, a lot are born at around 40 weeks."
"Billy had hers at 36 weeks. And that's full-term."
"That's right, full-term can be anywhere between 36 to 42 weeks. By the 36th week of gestation, it is generally assumed that the baby is fully formed and able to survive outside the womb. But delivery is different for everyone, you just have to be patient."
"I know, but I can't wait... it's killing me."
Wordy chuckled. "Listen buddy, enjoy the moment. Embrace the whole experience. Try not to get ahead of yourself. Once the baby is born, it would be one sleepless night after another. Right now, you have a chance to enjoy couple time. Plan lots of romantic nights instead of fretting and wishing for the baby to come, because once the baby is out you can't wish it to go back inside the womb."
On hearing Wordy's words of wisdom, Spike was once again infused with optimism, "You're right. Thanks buddy. I know you have the answer."
Wordy jokingly replied, "Keep this up and I'll start charging you for counseling services."
At about the same time, in a different geographical location on earth, another couple were also expecting.
It was dry season in Gulf Savannah, Australia's fair dinkum out-of-the-way country. Far beyond the limits of tarred pavements of coastal cities; remote and devoid of the clamours of urban society. Here the landscapes consisted mainly of a pub and a few houses. But the natural environment has always been breathtaking — sweeping grass plains, scrubby forest and intricate networks of seasonal rivers and tidal creeks that drain into the Gulf of Carpentaria. Somewhere deep within the vastness of Gulf Savannah is a small pastoral town called Gregory Downs, where a 150,000 acres outback station called Cameron Country has been in existence for donkey's years.
Bryce has been up since the crack of dawn, a force of habit. He got up at four in the morning to feed the free range chooks and collect the eggs; oversaw the farm hands and delegated tasks. The cattle in their hundreds has to be mustered, the crops dusted with fertiliser, and fences had to be mended.
He has a massive lists of things to do before he and Belle could fly to Cairns to await the birth of their first biological child. They decided to leave two weeks early to give Belle the chance to settle in and prepare for the birth, they thought that should give them enough time.
His Mum, Sue and his adopted son, Rajo, who Belle has also adopted as her own, left for Cape York the day before to visit relatives but would be back in time to await their return, expectantly with a new bub.
At the homestead, Belle was up and about finalising the accounts; getting her bookkeeping up-to-date; and answering correspondence. As she progressed with her pregnancy the paper chase has become a drag but there was no one else to do the job she performed for the pastoral company.
She gazed out at the tropical Queensland sky, which could be so unforgiving in the wet season. she silently thanked God she would be giving birth in the dry season when humidity was somewhat bearable and the temperature milder. She wistfully looked out the window waiting for his return. He's been out for five hours now. She wondered how he did it every single day.
The drovers, she was sure, were out in the paddock and getting ready to muster the cattle. The homestead and the outbuildings were silent, bereft of human presence except hers. She padded back to their room to rest.
She stood by the door, closed her eyes as she thought back to a time nearly a year ago. She returned to Cameron Country to live with a man she barely knew; she only knew that she loved him and wanted a life with him. In turn, he embraced and loved her, a woman he barely knew.
He was different. A man with no equal in her eyes.
The day he held the door to his bedroom open and she saw his hammock in the centre of the room, she asked, "Surely you don't expect us to sleep in a hammock every night."
"Yes, I do," he said in that uncompromising stance. "It's made of cotton and nylon and woven by Mayan families who live in villages around Merida, capital of the Mexican State of Yucatán and largest city of the Yucatán Peninsula."
She despaired and wondered how much more of his bizarre lifestyle she could take. He touched her face as they stood by the door and said, "Give it a fair go, you'd be surprised how much you'll love it."
"What if I don't like it?"
He smiled and said, "Well... I'll sleep in the hammock and you can sleep on the floor."
She dissolved into tears. It was infantile. Stupid. Immature. But far from getting angry, he scooped her up in his arms and placed her in the hammock; whipped out a harmonica from his back pocket and played a tune for her. He played it soft and slow. The song was "Waltzing Matilda", the quintessential Australian folk song. When the music ended, he rocked her gently. Against her will she fell into deep sleep and woke up completely refreshed.
Later he checked in on her; finding her wide awake, he asked, "How'd you like my hammock?"
Admitting defeat, she said, "I love it."
He winked at her and humorously said, "Good, cause I wasn't going to trade my hammock for you."
They locked eyes for what seemed like forever then she said, "Where have you been all my life?"
His answer surprised her, "Had you met me 10 years ago you wouldn't have liked me... too selfish. I'm still selfish but a little less."
Her reminiscing was interrupted when she heard him say, "Pixie, I'm home." She came out to greet him. He was very sweaty, dirt stuck and caked on his skin like a film of mud. But it's their ritual now, muddy or not, she hugged him around the waist, and he kissed the top of her head.
"Let me shower, then we'll go."
He was nearly done in the shower when she let out a frightened scream. He rushed out of the shower to find her holding onto the hammock's cord, that connected it to the wall, sobbing. On the floor was a puddle of water, he sprang into action; grabbed a towel, mopped up the puddle and asked, "How far apart are the contractions?"
She shook her head and sobbed, "I want to push. I'm scared."
"It's ok," he said in an effort to calm her down. He cupped her face, "Belle, look at me. Just look at me. I know what to do. You have to trust me." When she didn't appear to be listening, he gripped her arms and shook her a little, "Belle, do you trust me? Answer me. Do you trust me?"
"I do," she said between hiccups.
"Ok, I have to open the windows so we can get light in. There's no one else but the two of us so don't worry. It's gonna be fine." He opened the windows then turned on the lights in the room.
"Belle, I can't have any obstructions, I'll have to remove your dress, ok? Are you ok with that?" She nodded. He simply ripped the fabric off her to get it done quickly.
"I need to lie down..."
"No. No. It's best to do this standing. The gravity will help the baby come down quicker. I have to check your dilation. Don't push until I tell you to." He made sure she was securely holding on to the hammock before going to get his maglite. He squatted underneath her to check her dilation.
He rose to his feet, smiled and said, "You're fully dilated and you're crowning."
"How do you know?"
"I'll tell you everything... but after, not now. Ok?" She nodded, feeling a little bit more secure.
"Listen to your body. Women have been giving birth for millions of years, before there were doctors and hospitals. Push when the urge comes but don't rush it. Take it slow and easy. Remember your vagina will dilate and would accommodate the baby's head." He talked to her like a medical professional which she found funny. She smiled.
"I need to push."
"Ok, hold tight to the cord," he dropped down to his knees, waited for the baby's head to come out. "I can see the baby's head. Take it slow and easy, listen to your instincts."
Gripping the cord for dear life, she gave one long push and the baby's head was out; she felt her knees wobble from the exertion. "Stop." He felt around the baby's neck, the umbilical cord was looped around the neck. He removed it carefully.
"Ok, push."
She gave another push and the baby's slippery body dropped into his hands. "It's a boy." He rose to his feet cradling the infant upside down in the crook of his arm. Mucous dislodged from his mouth and nose then he bellowed. It was the best sound they've ever heard.
"You need to rest." He assisted her into the hammock. Once she was lying securely inside it, he handed her the new born, covered them with a blanket and left to boil water. That's when it hit him, while he waited for the water to boil, he braced himself against the sink and cried. It was the kettle's whistling that brought him back, he sterilised a pair of scissors.
He steadied his nerves before venturing back to the bedroom. Peering inside the hammock, he found her nursing the baby. He watched him suckle at the breast. It was so freaking indescribable, this feeling of euphoria that welled inside him. He waited a few minutes before he cut the cord.
"I'll get you something to drink."
It was, truthfully, an excuse to get out of the room so he could compose himself. Mixed feelings were churning inside him, threatening to totally engulf him. When his equilibrium returned, he brought her a glass of water which she gratefully accepted. The baby has fallen asleep on her bosom.
In a voice that was hoarse from screaming and crying, she asked, "How do you know to deliver babies?"
He searched for her hand under the blanket. Unconsciously held it for dear life. "Fifteen years in the Regiment, many of them spent in places like East Timor, Somalia, Kenya, Columbia... among teeming masses of poor people, I've seen a lot of shit. We've been in hell holes where we're the only ones that stood between life and death."
He unashamedly let the tears rain down. "At the bush hospital in Somalia where I found Rajo, we've had to assist in medical procedures. Often, Michelle was alone so one of us Special Forces guys would hold down a man as she amputates, with rudimentary instruments and little medicine. Sometimes I can still hear the screams in my head.
"We assisted with birthing. We lost more women and babies than I care to remember. I can't count the ditches I've dug to bury them. It's all flooding back to me now.
"The exodus to Kenya... we lost people along the way. We couldn't bury the bodies, we had no choice but to keep moving on. We left them to be carrion feed.
"Rajo was the only good thing that came out of it."
She cried with him, wondered how he carried on living with some degree of sanity. She couldn't imagine the things he's seen. "I wish I could wipe all your pain away."
"Belle, I've killed a lot of people, some bad, some good. I've saved a few good ones but fuck if I know if my cheque book is balanced." He was in the throes of despair.
"It's more than balanced if you ask me. You're in the black as far as I'm concern. I love you."
"And you," he said as he touched her face, "You're my one great love."
They cried until they were drained. It was bittersweet but the arrival of the wee bub would be a defining moment for both of them, forever.
After the tears, they focused on the positive – the search for a name. They decided on Tau (pronounced TAH-oh) Mabo Cameron. Tau, African word for lion.
At 11pm Toronto time, their families and friends received a photo of a proud mother and father and baby boy with brownish red wispy hair and blue eyes. It bore the caption, The Wolf and the Lion. And Belle Gallagher-Cameron, flame-haired lass of strong Irish bloodline. Not to forget the other Mabo Cameron... Rajo, whose name means hope in Somali.
Spike smiled when he opened the attachment, felt genuinely happy for their friends. But for now all he could care about was doing a slow dance with his wife. He stood behind her, wrapped her in his arms then swayed to "Unchained Melody."
.