The wind was beating the wooden shutters which had been closed against the relentless winter storm that seemed intent on testing the workmanship of the small two room house sitting alone and exposed on the Dakota prairie. A dying fire, diminished from inattention strained to emit a feeble warmth , it’s smoke struggling to escape up and out of the chimney, fighting against the backdraft caused by the winds outside which pushed it back into the room, puffing ashes into the chill air .Two kerosene lamps lit the interior, throwing shadows against the wall of two figures, one lying in bed the other alternately leaning over the first and pacing, with pent up energy , contending with the challenge of the unknown.
The woman’s name was Elizabeth, called Liza by most, born and educated in the Northeast, who had traveled through the Midwest on holiday. A chance circumstance had stranded her for three weeks in a small town no more than 45 miles from where she now lay. Three weeks is not a long time but it was long enough for her to meet and fall in love with a tall, reserved
rancher who now stood next to her labor bed, casting his shadow over her like a quilt, his blue eyes flashing with concern at every contraction. Neither electricity or phone had yet come to this part of the state yet and there was little hope of contacting the doctor. The winter storm had come as suddenly as her labor, reducing the world to just the three of them.
Aidan did his best to keep the fire going, but his attention was captured by the unfolding of the birth process. He was a man of practicalities, who understood the world in mechanical terms but this could not be diverted like the stream which ran through his property and now irrigated his fields. This was a force of nature, stronger and more insistent than the storm which pounded itself against his walls. Long into her labor, the roles they had become accustomed to suddenly reversed; Liza settled into a deep quiet , entering into the pain and process as an equal and willing partner, the baby no longer assaulting her but working together with her to connect with something deeper and truer than she had ever known before. Taking Aidan’s hand she smiled, asked him to stoke the fire and to trust, with her, the body-knowing which had suddenly connected her with generations of woman before her. And they prayed for wisdom.
When the baby was born, Aidan placed her at Liza’s breast, and lay next to them both, pulling the down comforter close. In the dawning light of the new day, they watched her breathing. She was so far from her own circumstances of birth, far from the classical education of her youth, from the comfort and privilege she had known , yet she had called out to something deep inside herself and had been answered. In the middle of her night she had given herself over to the cold and the storm and had been changed. In thankfulness she would name her child for the wisdom which had carried her through . Looking up at her husband and then , back to new daughter, Liza announced her baby’s name like a benediction, watching her breath rise in the air as she spoke it, like an offering. Aidan did not argue, it could be nothing else.
