The Director - Renee Rose Page 0,43

willing to share it because it’s beautiful and natural and your baby is a miracle.”

John squeezes her closer to him. “That’s right,” he agrees. “Jane even let my mother in the room.”

“It’s okay if you want it private, too,” Svetlana interjects. “Your comfort is the only thing that matters.

The couple on the screen change position. She squats on the floor in front of the bed, her partner sitting on the bed, supporting her beneath the armpits.

A woman—Christ, it’s Svetlana, herself!—sits in front of her, hands outstretched. Svetlana speaks to the woman in Russian. A dark head appears, and we all gasp. In the next few seconds, shoulders appear, then the rest of the baby slips out.

“Oh!” Carrie covers her mouth with her hand, tears in her eyes.

I’m not feeling it, but maybe I’m too shocked by the whole scene. I sneak a peek at Ravil. He is also unmoved.

Svetlana puts on another video. “This is a water birth. I know some of you are considering it.” She darts a look at me.

Like hell we are.

“Waterbirth was pioneered in the 1960’s by Igor Charkovsky in Russia to reduce or eliminate birth trauma to the baby. It became popular in Russia in the 1980’s. I have assisted one hundred and twenty-nine waterbirths,” she claims proudly. “I think you will see the appeal when you watch the video.”

A pregnant woman is in a giant plexiglass tub, like a whale in an aquarium—totally on view to the camera and audience. Her head and shoulders are out of the tub, and her husband strokes her neck and shoulders, murmuring to her in Russian.

She moans and holds her belly. You can literally see it tighten, the muscles squeezing the baby down and out.

It goes on for a little while—long enough that I start to wonder how much longer we have to watch and then, suddenly, the baby’s head appears. Svetlana reaches her hand into the tub, not to catch, but to gently massage a circle on the baby’s head. There’s no shouting or yelling like in the movies. Svetlana and the birth partner speak in murmurs, the mother moans in a low, guttural tone.

The rest of the baby slips out. Still, Svetlana doesn’t catch him. She lets him gently float a moment while the mother cries her tears of joy.

It’s the mother who scoops the baby up and out of the water to hold against her chest, and only then does Svetlana nudge in to surreptitiously hold a stethoscope to the baby’s back while the parents weep with joy.

I burst into tears. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The birth was so peaceful. The parents’ joy is so palpable. The miracle of it all so intrinsic.

Ravil drapes his arm across the back of my chair and strokes my shoulder. When I hiccup, Jane looks over at me, her eyes and cheeks wet. “Right?” she says.

I sniff and nod. “Yeah. That was beautiful.”

Svetlana beams at me, like I just passed some kind of test. “As you can see, water births are extremely peaceful for the mother and baby.

Tears continue to stream from my eyes. It’s absolutely mortifying and completely unlike me to cry at all, much less in front of a bunch of strangers. All I can do is bob my head and try to choke back my terraced breaths.

Maybe Ravil wasn’t just being a dick when he told me I was having a water birth. I mean, he definitely was a dick because the choice should be mine. But the idea doesn’t seem quite so insane or abhorrent now.

Ravil massages the back of my neck, strokes my hair. I find myself leaning into him, drawing his strength, the comfort he offers. And despite the logic, despite knowing I’m still his prisoner, and he’s keeping me here against my will, I’m grateful to him for bringing me here to this class. I never would’ve seen a video like this without him. Wouldn’t have known about water births and the beauty of them. Wouldn’t have researched home births, or hypnobirth or any of this alternative information.

And while it’s not me, I feel far more capable of having a baby than I did a week ago. I have more trust in my body and nature and the beauty and miracle of birth.

I look over at Ravil.

I have more trust in him.

I’m playing the game to get him to trust me, and yet, I’m the one falling under a spell. Because all I see is kindness. Good intentions.