Tlacati, He is Born, but Dina Wished for a Girl

Tuesday, May 15, 1923, Pivámoc, Jalisco

At least a month after her arrival in Pivámoc, Dina woke in the dark, early morning to pounding at her front door. Throwing a shawl about her shoulders, she ran to find Lea at her doorstep in a nightgown and slippers. Her long black hair was plaited into a single braid and dangled from the nape of her neck as she held herself between the legs with one hand, the other pressing hard into her lower back.

“Locked?!” cried Lea in panicked disbelief. Sweat and tears glistened on her face as she waddled through the doorway. “The water came just now! On my way here. Francesco’s gone to get the partera again, but something’s wrong, cuñada, something’s wrong!”

Dina, who had secretly hoped to arrive in Pivámoc in time to deliver her own child, had not been summoned the previous afternoon when Lea’s pain had prompted Francesco to send for the town midwife. The partera, who doubled also as the local curandera, had seen all three of their other children born, and Lea had assumed that Dina was “not that kind of doctor.”

But when the baby had disappointed them all and refused to come, Dina told Lea to send for her the next time, or better yet to stay the night in her house at the back of the property until after the delivery. “Other doctors of medicine may think themselves above the woman’s work of bringing life into the world,” she’d said, “but I never have. It wouldn’t be my first, Lea. I know what I’m doing.”

“No,” Francesco had blurted, his tone rejecting all possible arguments. “We’ll let you know when the baby is ready for you.”

Lea was too embarrassed and disheartened by the false alarm to contradict him. He was thinking of her comfort: She was used to the partera and Dina still frightened her. And if the baby turned out to be a boy, well, she’d rather not hear or see Dina’s feelings about it in the moment or she’d die of shame for disappointing her.

“I want her to be cleaned and pretty before you see her,” offered Lea wanly.

Dina had looked at them both over her spectacles. “Get me if anything goes wrong,” she’d said, echoing Francesco’s tone, and then left.

Dina frightened Lea, but it was with passing regret that Dina did nothing to change her behaviors toward the young woman; she hadn’t gotten as far as she had with sweetness and apology, after all, and affectations of either made her irritable. So she considered the battle lost, if Lea truly didn’t want her in the birthing room, but she couldn’t say she was surprised or disappointed by the expectant woman’s about-face. Dina had gleaned enough information about the pregnancy to guess what the matter could be, and it was nothing she wasn’t prepared to handle. In fact, she’d prepped a basin of clean water and piled linens and blankets by the fire in anticipation of just this moment. A lantern burned brightly on the bedside table; the fire danced, and the bedroom was filled with a fine, warm glow.

The evidence of Dina’s foresight did not escape Lea’s notice as Dina guided her to the room and helped her onto the bed, propped her up against a heap of pillows.

“You knew I would come,” she realized aloud, her eyes wide.

“I think the baby’s posterior,” said Dina. “Face up. The pain is in your back, yes?”

Lea nodded, breathing heavily, arching vaguely. “It’s all here. Dios mio!”

A contraction hit her and Dina let her squeeze her hand through the wave of it.

“Do you need to push yet?” she said when it had passed.

“No.”

“Bring your knees up.” Dina washed her hands and then checked Lea’s progress. She wore no underthings, the hem of her nightdress flicked up above her knees. Feeling her gently, Dina could tell that the baby was only a handful of contractions away from crowning. There would be no waiting for Francesco or the partera. She could not have planned it any better.

“Santa Madre de Dios!” Lea screamed. “This child will kill me!”

Dina found herself marveling, as she always did at such moments, at the recipient-violence of womanhood, the ways She paid for Her meekness.

When another contraction passed, Dina wet a cloth and cleaned her, saying, “Were any of your others face up?”

Lea caught her breath and said, “No, and they didn’t hurt like this. They would have come weeks ago and they would have come fast.”

“Well, it won’t be long now, cuñada, even if you have been in labor all day.”

“She isn’t stuck?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m not going to die?”

“No.”

“Gracias a Dios.”

“Yes, Him too.”

“Que?”

“Turn over on your hands and knees. This should feel better.”

Lea obeyed and Dina put pressure on her lower back with the heel of her hand.

“Gracias a Dios!” Lea groaned again, this time in relief. “Thank you.”

“Stay like this, sway your hips, and tell me when you need to push.”

Dina deepened the pressure on Lea’s back through the next few waves of contractions, and before long Lea was crying out that she was pushing. She bore down through the pain, a roar rising in her throat, and Dina found herself marveling, as she always did at such moments, at the recipient-violence of womanhood, the ways She paid for Her meekness. And Francesco, the infliction of it all, was nowhere to be seen. Dina was glad he wasn’t there, but she hoped he’d had a chance to see the births of his other three, at least once, and to feel his responsibility for Lea’s suffering.

I’m glad I never let a man do this to me, Dina thought.

When the contraction passed, Dina toweled the sweat from Lea’s face and then cleaned her again, feeling the baby’s crowning head. She grinned, enjoying herself, and even cooed encouragement.

“You’re doing wonderfully. I’m in awe, cuñada,” she said. “Now I need you to breathe like this through the next one.” She demonstrated. “This will help you push slowly and it must be slow or you’ll tear and there’s no reason for that, is there?” She spoke fast, but gently, and when the time came, Lea did exactly as instructed. Dina eased the head’s passage where she could until it spilled through, dropping with the rest of its body and a gush of fluid into Dina’s hands.

“Oh no!” Dina exclaimed at the sight of its genitals.

“Dios mio, what is it?!” Lea gasped. Frozen and trembling, she was still on all fours as though she were afraid to move. “What’s wrong?”

He was supposed to be a girl. Of course, she’d known all along that a boy was a possibility and she’d accepted the risk, but ay!

The baby rasped its first cries, clearing its lungs with the desperate rage only an infant could muster as Dina, half laughing at the squirming thing’s hefty strength, called out, “Nothing! I’m sorry. Nothing. Let me help you onto your back!”

She felt sheepish for worrying the poor woman, and set the baby onto Lea’s chest as soon as she was in a position to hold it. Lea had unlaced the bodice of her nightgown and the babe nestled into her bared breasts as she inspected it with worried fingers before finally catching sight of the genitals.

“It’s a boy,” she said, her eyes filling with raw tears.

As soon as he was against her skin, the boy had quieted, but Lea wept like her heart was breaking.

“It’s all wrong,” she gasped. “I’m sorry, it’s all wrong.”

Dina shook her head, clamping off the birth cord a few inches from the baby’s navel. Then she set the second clamp and severed the cord in between, saying as she worked, “He’s fine. See what’s covering him? The white film? Rub it into his skin and then let him drink. See there. He’s hungry.” The baby had begun to root, working its tiny mouth like it was trying to yawn.

“You don’t want him,” Lea whispered, weeping through the words.

“That isn’t true.” Dina realized the full truth of it as she said it. Yes, she was disappointed, but she was keeping that baby. She’d come all this way and he was healthy at least, or seemed to be. “Let me clean you up and see to the afterbirth and then I’ll have a look at him. A fine big boy, yes?”

Lea helped the little thing latch to her breast even while dropping tears onto its head. “I wished a girl for you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“I did too, Lea. Should we put him back?”

Lea looked at her in surprise, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that Dina had been hiding a sense of humor all this time. After an instant, she smiled. Once the afterbirth was collected and put aside, Lea cleaned, and the soiled bedcovers replaced, Dina sat alongside the bed for a closer look at the boy.

He’d already opened his puffy eyelids and blinked blearily up at Lea as he drank, the tiniest of fingers splayed and stretching at his chin. Dina had hoped that her face would be the first the baby would see upon its birth, but she was glad for the change in plans. She didn’t want him to see the accusation in her eyes. He was supposed to be a girl. Of course, she’d known all along that a boy was a possibility and she’d accepted the risk, but ay! She wanted to blame Francesco, accuse him of thwarting her somehow just to annoy her, but the longer she looked at the little thing, the fonder she felt about it.

“Tlacati,” said Dina. He is born.

Lea looked at Dina. “You speak Nahuatl?”

“And he will too, I promise.”

But Lea shook her head. “No, I don’t—it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to . . .”

“Oh, he’ll speak Spanish too, and English, and Italian.” For all her earlier disappointment, Dina’s excitement was returning. “But he will learn and love who he is, Lea, as should you.”

The woman kept shaking her head, however, her small brown hand resting upon the boy’s bare back. His skin was lighter than hers now, but it was clear he would continue darkening as he aged, and that the sun would brown him even more.

“I’m sorry he’s a boy,” Lea said again, her shoulders sloped with exhaustion and regret. “And I’m sorry he’s so brown. I wanted a perfect pink girl for you. You’re not angry?”

This made Dina laugh. She shook her head. “Perhaps he’ll have Tresa’s eyes. They’re like my mother’s.”

“Oh,” said Lea. “I’ll pray he does.”

Dina smiled. “You’re a generous woman, Lea. Don’t worry yourself.” Lea sighed and then squeezed Dina’s hand when the other woman offered it. That seemed to be all the reassurance Lea needed and she was promptly, deeply asleep.

***

Excerpt from The Music of Pedro.