“How are you?” I ask, kneeling in front of the bed.
“I just had the first contraction,” she tells me. “I’ll keep count of how far apart they are.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Not right now,” she answers.
“I’d like to stay with you for her birth,” I say. “If you want me to leave, just say so. It’s up to you.”
“I want you here,” she replies.
For several hours, we sit side by side on the bed. With one arm around her, I try to comfort her through the contractions. As they grow closer together, I can see on her face how much pain she’s in, but she never complains or makes a sound. After what I guess is about six hours, Sash tells me it’s time to deliver.
“Will you get a knife from the shelves, please?” she asks. “There’s also a small metal clamp there. Bring that, too.”
After helping her stand, I cross to the other side of the room and grab the clip and a knife. When I meet Sash by the entrance to the waterfall cavern, she’s already stripped out of her clothes. Her skin is radiant in the golden light of the Swirls, and the amber in her eyes is electric and alive. She takes the metal clip from my hand and clamps it to the end of her hair, but has me keep the knife.
I follow her to the center of the shallow stream in the waterfall cavern. Facing the fall, Sash crouches over the water. She asks me to stay behind her, so I drop to my knees on the spongy rock. After kissing the back of her neck, I clench the knife between my teeth.
Although her breathing becomes sharper and faster during the next contraction, she doesn’t make any other noise. I softly stroke her hair and rub her shoulders until her muscles relax.
“One more,” she says between slow, deep breaths.
A few moments later, her body tenses and the pace of her breathing increases. She lowers her hands to the water beneath her while I stabilize her with my hands. She pushes so hard during the contraction that she lets out a loud shriek.
As her body jerks forward, she grunts from the pain. Her muscles remain tense for another few seconds while she continues to groan. She finally falls back against me, takes a few long breaths, and then raises her hands. Our baby girl is safely in their grip.
Her lustrous blue eyes are already open and focused on Sash. Instead of crying as I’d expect a newborn to do, she’s quiet and calm with an expression of what seems to be curiosity on her face. Still panting from the delivery, Sash lays our baby her on her back in the gentle flow of two-inch deep water and reaches a hand back to me.
“Give me the knife,” she says.
I remove the blade from between my teeth and lay the handle in Sash’s palm. Using the fingers of her other hand, she makes a small loop in the umbilical cord and holds it over our baby’s stomach. After the knife slices through the cord, she takes the metal clip out of her hair and clamps it to the small stub still attached to our daughter’s belly button.
On her knees in the stream, Sash cups water in her hands and rinses off our baby’s body. Running her fingers through our daughter’s short, thick black hair, Sash finishes bathing her. The baby never cries out or makes the slightest sound, but appears to be alert the entire time.
“She’s so beautiful,” I whisper.
“She really is,” Sash replies.
“Do you feel okay?”
“I’m tired,” she says, “but relieved it’s over. I’m glad you’re here with me.”
I rest my hands on Sash’s waist. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world. Shouldn’t she be crying or something?”
“She’s breathing and looks healthy,” she answers. “I guess she doesn’t feel the need to cry right now.”
Sash lifts our daughter out of the stream and cradles her in her arms. Gripping Sash’s waist, I help her stand to her feet.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asks.
“Of course,” I answer with a grin.
Carefully supporting her head, Sash holds the baby out to me. I slip one arm under her body and the other behind her neck. After gently clutching her to my chest, I look down at her face. Her eyes immediately find mine.
“Welcome to the world, baby girl,” I say and then look at Sash. “It’s weird not having a name for her.”
“I like the way you call her ‘baby girl.’ I guess that’s what it has to be for a while.”
Sash steps to the fall and spends several minutes washing off in the water. Every few seconds, she glances in my direction to check on our daughter. Despite how exhausted Sash looks, there’s a fiery intensity in her eyes and a slight flex in her muscles. She’s like a tiger in the wild watching over her cub, ready to leap to her defense if needed.
After Sash finishes cleaning off, she retrieves the knife from the stream. We walk together to the main cavern. Baby girl stays in my arms while Sash puts the knife away and dresses in shorts and a tank top. Sash then spreads one of the baby blankets out on our bed.
“Lay her down,” Sash says to me.
I carefully place our daughter on top of the blanket. Seemingly mesmerized by the Swirls, baby girl gazes at the crystal ceiling. Sash folds the corners of the blanket around her and securely wraps her inside. While our daughter lies on her back looking up, Sash stacks a few pillows on the mattress. Using the pillows to prop herself up, Sash sits down on the bed. Once she finds a comfortable position, she picks up our daughter and cradles her to her chest.
I change into shorts, sit by Sash’s side, and reach one arm around her shoulder. Baby girl’s
