Echoes Page 0,49
baby, and Beata reminded her frequently not to ask them if that was the case.
Beata spent the last month of her pregnancy at home, and she wished that once again she had Maria with her. This time a doctor and a midwife were going to attend her. Antoine was relieved, but Beata admitted to him that she was disappointed. The doctor had already told her that Antoine could not be present. He felt it would be too distracting, and it was not how he did things. She much preferred having had Maria and Antoine with her in the simple farmhouse.
“Listen, my love, I'd much prefer knowing that you're in good hands. I don't want you going through the torture you did last time.” Beata had forgotten the worst of it, but Antoine hadn't. He still shuddered at the memory of her endless screaming. “Maybe he knows some tricks to make it happen a little faster.”
But as it turned out, Mother Nature did that for her. The doctor had warned her that it might be a long labor, almost like a first one. In eight years, her body had forgotten the previous birth. In his experience, he claimed, women who had many years between childbirths often experienced the same slow labors, or even longer ones, than they did the first time. Beata did not find that cheering. And when she met her, Beata wasn't crazy about his midwife. She wished that she and Antoine could just hop on a train and go back to Maria. They had stayed in touch over the years, and she had written to Beata to tell her how pleased she was to hear about the new baby, after Beata wrote to tell her. They had meant to go back and visit, but Antoine never seemed to be able to leave the stables. There was always too much going on.
Beata came home from a walk with Amadea late one afternoon. She was feeling better than she had in weeks and had more energy than she'd had in a long time. She and Amadea baked some cookies, and after that Beata made an elaborate dinner. She thought it would be a nice surprise for Antoine. She was just on her way up to change for dinner, when she felt a familiar pain in her lower abdomen. She had had pains like it for weeks, although not quite as strong, and decided to think nothing of it. She changed for dinner, combed her hair, put on lipstick, and went back downstairs to make sure nothing had burned in the kitchen. She had left a small turkey roasting in the oven. When Antoine came home, he found her in exceptionally good spirits, although she seemed restless at dinner. She had had the same small pains all evening, but they weren't severe enough to call the doctor, and she didn't want to worry Antoine. Amadea complained at dinner that the baby was taking forever, and her parents laughed at her and told her to be patient. It was only after Beata tucked her in cozily and went back downstairs to find Antoine that the pains got sharper.
“Are you all right?” he asked, looking at her. He was treating himself to a rare brandy, and thanked her for the excellent dinner. “You've barely sat down all evening.”
“All I do is sit around. I think I've been resting too much. I've had lots of energy since yesterday. I feel so much better.”
“Good. Then enjoy it. Don't wear yourself out. The baby will be here before you know it.”
“Poor Amadea is so tired of waiting.” Her mother sympathized with her, and suddenly felt a sharp pain, but she hated to tell Antoine. He was having such a nice time, relaxing with his brandy, and things had been exceptionally busy lately at the stables. They had just bought four new stallions.
Antoine sat admiring her then, enjoying his brandy. She looked beautiful to him, even though she was immensely pregnant. And as he finished the last of the brandy, much to his amazement, Beata doubled over. She couldn't even speak to him, the pain was so ferocious, and then as fast as it had hit her, it was over.
“My God, what happened? Are you all right? We'd better call the doctor.” But they both knew from the last time that even once they did, it would take forever. This was just the beginning. Beata remembered now that it had been that way for hours the first