A Test of Tears
“Oh Lord, not now,” she prayed silently to herself, “it’s too soon.” The fleeting intensity of her cramping forced her to lean back against the dampened, cold, stone wall. She closed her fierce black eyes and felt the tiny droplets of moisture trickle down her face. For a moment she welcomed the refreshing tingle of the rain as it matted her shoulder length, dirty blonde hair. Even through the rain she could hear the sound of the receding footsteps of the dreaded henchmen. God how she hated those vile creatures … if it wasn’t for them and their heartless attempt at infiltrating the world she would be safe on her Canadian acreage instead of in this vacant, rat infested Berlin alleyway. Tears cascaded down her face creating creases of dirt. She remembered the last heart wrenching sight of her husband being beaten and dragged away – to Heaven knows where.
The shards of pain broke through her thoughts like a thousand knives. Attempting to move forward she gripped her midriff and proceeded down the deserted cobblestone passage. “I’ve got to find shelter before it’s too late. I can’t loose you, you’re all I have left of him.” The next violent wave of contractions brought her to her knees. She blacked out and fell. Splash!
Several moments passed before she came too and feebly managed to crawl out of the murky puddle. Drenched and exhausted she desperately tried to move out of the howling wind behind the dented refuse containers. This was no place to be giving birth she thought, looking around at her dismal conditions it seemed to be the only likely and accessible substitute to a warm bed.
Frightened for her life, her heart and thoughts began to race. “We should’ve left when we had the chance. Everything happened so fast. Now you’re gone! I don’t understand what you did to deserve such an untimely death. How can I do this on my own? How will I ever get out of this place? Who’s going to help me?” She reached up and brushed the sweat from her eyes. It was then she noticed a warm saturated rush of wetness between her legs. “Oh God,” she sobbed, “help me!” Another piercing contraction ripped through her. The reticent whistle of the raining bullets falling around her became distant as she screamed out loud, no longer able to stifle her agonizing cries.
Instinctively she knew the mounting pressure in her pelvis meant the time was at hand. With decreasing strength she managed to sit up and remove her soaked undergarments. She never pictured herself in such a position; she didn’t even know what to do next. One thing she had remembered from her past, was that she needed to push, and push she did.
Silently moaning and counting, “Mmmm! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He! He! Ha! Ha!” trying to force the pressure out! No coach except the fear of being discovered by the Nazis. Her back intensely ached and it periodically spasmed. One final paroxysm ended the ardent heaviness. The baby’s head emerged and her abdomen was wracked with uncontrollable convulsions. Shaking, she frailly scooped it up and fumbling with the buttons on her jacket and shirt placed the child upon her breast. It was then that she noticed the infant was a boy. Next she attempted to clean out his small mouth and throat. Knowing well the baby must cry to release the fluid from its lungs.
A swell of cramping caught her by surprise. Clutching to the newborn she realized to her amazement that her torment was not yet complete. Unfortunately she comprehended that she had little strength to continue with the second round of labor. Determined not to give up she continued her previous vigil of counting and pushing. This time something was wrong! The unbearable pain brought her to tears. Forgetting to breathe she became consumed with darkness and lost consciousness while the world was welcomed with a shattering scream!
It was this shrill that alerted Father O’Neil to this fatal disaster. He went in search of the sound and made a devastating discovery that would ultimately change his life. Rounding the corner he turned down the same deserted alley. At first he thought he had been blessed with a vision of holy proportions. He was mesmerized by the scene that was unfolding before his very eyes. He looked down at the beautiful, slender face resting against the garbage cans. The determined face emanated a stubborn yet spiritual quality.
Suddenly her eyelids began to flutter and her thin, colorless lips opened. It was then that he realized she was trying to communicate with him. “Father,” she winced, “help my children. Please! Don’t let them die! Don’t let THEM take my children!” Confused, Father O’Neil looked around for evidence of “children” and thought to himself,
“There is no denying that there is one but where is the other?” He knelt down, rolled up his sleeves and pulled the infant out of the blood bath between his mother’s legs. Placing it on her breast and feeling the other squirm he understood the severity of the situation. There were definitely two and the faint but brief heartbeats of the mother reminded him that time was of the essence. Brushing a strand of hair from her forehead he whispered, “Everything will be okay. The Lord shall provide.”
Amazingly she reached for his hand and squeezed, apparently this promise was not satisfactory to her. Her frantic eyes revealed her fear and he knew that she would not leave this world peacefully until he could give her more. Before he could stop himself a new promise had been uttered, “My dear child, do not worry. I will personally attend to your sons. Some how I will get them to safety.” She intently inspected his face and with assuredness she released him. Her eyelids flickered and closed for the last time as the dainty hand fell listlessly into the puddle of rain.
The shards of pain broke through her thoughts like a thousand knives. Attempting to move forward she gripped her midriff and proceeded down the deserted cobblestone passage. “I’ve got to find shelter before it’s too late. I can’t loose you, you’re all I have left of him.” The next violent wave of contractions brought her to her knees. She blacked out and fell. Splash!
Several moments passed before she came too and feebly managed to crawl out of the murky puddle. Drenched and exhausted she desperately tried to move out of the howling wind behind the dented refuse containers. This was no place to be giving birth she thought, looking around at her dismal conditions it seemed to be the only likely and accessible substitute to a warm bed.
Frightened for her life, her heart and thoughts began to race. “We should’ve left when we had the chance. Everything happened so fast. Now you’re gone! I don’t understand what you did to deserve such an untimely death. How can I do this on my own? How will I ever get out of this place? Who’s going to help me?” She reached up and brushed the sweat from her eyes. It was then she noticed a warm saturated rush of wetness between her legs. “Oh God,” she sobbed, “help me!” Another piercing contraction ripped through her. The reticent whistle of the raining bullets falling around her became distant as she screamed out loud, no longer able to stifle her agonizing cries.
Instinctively she knew the mounting pressure in her pelvis meant the time was at hand. With decreasing strength she managed to sit up and remove her soaked undergarments. She never pictured herself in such a position; she didn’t even know what to do next. One thing she had remembered from her past, was that she needed to push, and push she did.
Silently moaning and counting, “Mmmm! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He! He! Ha! Ha!” trying to force the pressure out! No coach except the fear of being discovered by the Nazis. Her back intensely ached and it periodically spasmed. One final paroxysm ended the ardent heaviness. The baby’s head emerged and her abdomen was wracked with uncontrollable convulsions. Shaking, she frailly scooped it up and fumbling with the buttons on her jacket and shirt placed the child upon her breast. It was then that she noticed the infant was a boy. Next she attempted to clean out his small mouth and throat. Knowing well the baby must cry to release the fluid from its lungs.
A swell of cramping caught her by surprise. Clutching to the newborn she realized to her amazement that her torment was not yet complete. Unfortunately she comprehended that she had little strength to continue with the second round of labor. Determined not to give up she continued her previous vigil of counting and pushing. This time something was wrong! The unbearable pain brought her to tears. Forgetting to breathe she became consumed with darkness and lost consciousness while the world was welcomed with a shattering scream!
It was this shrill that alerted Father O’Neil to this fatal disaster. He went in search of the sound and made a devastating discovery that would ultimately change his life. Rounding the corner he turned down the same deserted alley. At first he thought he had been blessed with a vision of holy proportions. He was mesmerized by the scene that was unfolding before his very eyes. He looked down at the beautiful, slender face resting against the garbage cans. The determined face emanated a stubborn yet spiritual quality.
Suddenly her eyelids began to flutter and her thin, colorless lips opened. It was then that he realized she was trying to communicate with him. “Father,” she winced, “help my children. Please! Don’t let them die! Don’t let THEM take my children!” Confused, Father O’Neil looked around for evidence of “children” and thought to himself,
“There is no denying that there is one but where is the other?” He knelt down, rolled up his sleeves and pulled the infant out of the blood bath between his mother’s legs. Placing it on her breast and feeling the other squirm he understood the severity of the situation. There were definitely two and the faint but brief heartbeats of the mother reminded him that time was of the essence. Brushing a strand of hair from her forehead he whispered, “Everything will be okay. The Lord shall provide.”
Amazingly she reached for his hand and squeezed, apparently this promise was not satisfactory to her. Her frantic eyes revealed her fear and he knew that she would not leave this world peacefully until he could give her more. Before he could stop himself a new promise had been uttered, “My dear child, do not worry. I will personally attend to your sons. Some how I will get them to safety.” She intently inspected his face and with assuredness she released him. Her eyelids flickered and closed for the last time as the dainty hand fell listlessly into the puddle of rain.