She Left the Babies in the Bed

Chapter 2

“Have you tried feeding her, Matilda?” Anne asked. Matilda looked puzzled. Despite having been the oldest daughter and helping her mother through three births, she looked as if she had somehow forgotten that babies required feeding and comfort.

“No, Mother Ross. I am so exhausted. Could it wait until later?” Anne’s sharp look spoke volumes, but her words were carefully even and measured.

“You will both feel better if you let her suckle a bit,” she replied as she put the baby in her mother’s arms. Anne kept her body between Margaret and her daughter-in-law as she helped guide Matilda to touch the baby’s cheek with her n****e. Baby Lydia turned her head frantically and then latched on greedily. The room became silent as the baby calmed and nursed. Anne beamed with love. Margaret harrumphed with spite.

Anne tried for a consolatory tone. “Breakfast is ready, Margaret. Why don’t you go down and help yourself? I’ll find out what Matilda feels like eating and bring her up a tray.”

“No need. I’ll bring up a tray for both of us. I know what my daughter likes,” Margaret replied with coldness. She huffed out of the room, leaving Anne alone with Matilda and the now-content baby.

“I’ll just sit here a bit until you’re finished so I can put the baby back in the crib.”

“Thank you, Mother Ross, but could you put her back now? It hurts my stomach when she sucks.”

“Oh, my dear, I know it’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but it will help you get your figure back quickly. You’ll see. And of course it’s certainly good for the baby.” Anne smiled softly as she looked over the peaceful scene, but made no effort to pick up the child. “She’s going to be a beauty, Matilda, like her mother. Although the hair is why Jacob insisted on naming her after Grandmother Ross.” Matilda bit her tongue to keep from blurting out her mother’s opinion on Jacob’s grandmother.

“As long as she is a good Christian girl, I will be happy,” Matilda responded, trying to keep her tone neutral. “And of course that she marries a respectable, hardworking man like her father.”

Anne smiled and helped Matilda switch the baby to the other breast. They sat in companionable silence while the baby finished and fell off to sleep. Anne was thinking of gathering her up to put her in the cradle as Margaret stormed into the room dictating instructions to her son-in-law who followed with a tray. Jacob deposited the tray on the first empty surface, the corner of the washstand, and then stood in an uncomfortable silence trying to decide what to do next. The baby whimpered at the noise, and seeing Jacob’s hands free, Anne gathered sleepy baby Lydia from her the new mother’s arms and passed her off to her son.

“You want to take her downstairs Jacob so Matilda can get some rest after she eats?” Anne asked. Jacob smiled proudly and took the baby out of the room with Anne close behind. “Let me know when you finish and I’ll come get the tray,” Anne said as she left the room.

***

The next few weeks were a torment to everyone in the family. Margaret, far from being a help to her daughter, treated everyone as if they were her servants. Both the baby and the new mother cried most of the night and often in the day. Jacob gave up on trying to appease his weepy wife and scolding mother-in-law and took to sleeping on a pallet he made on the floor of the cold front parlor. Well-meaning neighbors dropped by at odd hours with homemade pies and contradictory advice. Jacob’s mother Anne, plus his brothers William, and Edward took turns riding over from their neighboring farms to help with chores until Matilda was back on her feet.

In mid-December they awoke to find a light skim of snow on the ground. Jacob came in from the morning milking with exhaustion written on his face. Matilda was up trying to clean up the kitchen while her mother sat complaining in the rocking chair and the baby screamed upstairs. “Mother Lynn,” Jacob announced, “Get your bag packed. I am taking you back home today before we get more snow.”

Margaret gave him her steeliest glare. “I’m sure Matilda will have something to say about that!” They both turned to look at the exhausted new mother. Matilda paused briefly and observed her dog-tired husband and sour-face mother as if seeing for the first time.

“Oh, Mother dear,” she exclaimed, “how selfish I’ve been. Papa must miss you so terribly. Jacob, why did you let me keep Mother here with the weather coming? I’ll go right up and pack for you. Just stay right there. Jacob, come help me, please.”

Margaret sat abashed as they hurried up the steps. She thought she heard a sound like a muffled giggle, but it might have only been Jacob clearing his throat or the final protest note from the now-silent infant, Lydia. Jacob returned twenty minutes later carrying her valise, followed by Matilda holding little Lydia. Jacob set the bag on the floor and went to the wall peg for Margaret’s coat.

“Am I to go off without even a bite of food?” Margaret huffed. Quickly Matilda laid Lydia in the bassinet Jacob had made and wrapped the remains of last night’s corn pone in a towel, then handed it to her mother as she kissed her on the cheek.

“You will never know how much these past few weeks have meant to me, Mother. Have a safe trip home and give Father my love.” Matilda gave Jacob a quick secret smile as he picked up the valise.

When Jacob returned, it was almost dark, but the mules knew their way home. He unhitched, wiped them down, and saw to their feed by lantern light. “Thanks, old boys,” he said. “You’re a good team.” He saw that William and Ed had been over to do chores for him and noted that he owed them something special for the past few weeks. Heading for the house, he saw a flickering light in the window and hoped his bride was still awake. The door opened just as he approached, and the warmth of her arms welcomed him home.

The next morning the soft whimper of the baby woke him at first light. Matilda was up and nursing her before he realized that it was the first time since Lydia’s birth that they had spent a quiet night. “She slept through?” he asked. Matilda nodded and smiled.

A deep sense of contentment settled over Jacob. His patience had been tested these past few weeks, but he and Matilda had weathered the storm. He felt his heart swell with emotion, love for his wife and the new precious child, gratitude for family and friends to help in times of need, and a good crop that was all safely gathered in for winter. He even spent a few moments trying to be thankful for his sharp-tongued mother-in-law. All he could manage without hypocrisy was that she bore the beautiful woman by his side, the mother of his child. Softly he touched the tiny head of his daughter and looked into her bright, clear eyes. “I hope you are half the woman your great-grandmother was, Lydia. You have a lot to live up to.”

Matilda’s heart froze. She knew she should censure her words, but emotion and her mother’s constant criticism for the past few weeks poured out of her mouth. “I let you name her Jacob, but do not think it’s because I admired your abolitionist grandmother. It was to remind me I need to work hard to make sure she does not turn out like that woman.” Jacob’s heart sank. His grandmother was a guiding light in his life, a smart, strong, intense woman who had earned the respect and admiration of most everyone who knew her.

“Those are your mother’s words, Matilda, not yours.” Jacob swung his legs out of the bed, pulled on his clothes, and left to start chores. His tone had a finality that Matilda knew to leave alone, but the grim set of her mouth as she looked down at the baby was easy to read. Her duty was clear. If she could not count on Jacob to help her, she would shape and mold this child alone.

***

Gradually the rhythm of life on the farm took on its familiar pattern. The less busy winter months gave Matilda and Jacob time to adjust to a baby in the house. Matilda did complain that Lydia was always hungry and demanding, and she seemed to resent the time spent feeding and caring for her. Of course, with little experience being responsible for a little one, Matilda had no idea how fortunate she was to have a happy healthy child who ate greedily, fell asleep peacefully, and only rarely woke her in the night. Matilda gained a new admiration for her husband who never seemed to tire of helping out with Lydia. Many mornings she found him down in the kitchen with the stove already warm, cradling the wee one in his arms, while Matilda got some much-needed sleep.

Christmas brought the nearby family in, but since Matilda’s mother-in-law had been there so recently, she stayed home close with her other grown children. Jacob cut sweet-smelling cedar branches to brighten the mantel, and Matilda made mince pies using the jars she had put up in the summer and stored in the root cellar. William’s wife brought a ham from the pig they had slaughtered and smoked last year, and Ed contributed a roasted turkey he had shot and dressed earlier in the week. Everyone dug into their stores for winter vegetables to roast or boil. Great-uncle Jesse had come over early with surprises, store-bought presents, and a basket of expensive treats to share: oranges, nuts, peppermint sticks, and coffee. Christmas morning Matilda put together a triple batch of biscuits, and everyone sat down in warm companionship to enjoy the feast.

The afternoon was spent carelessly, as if it would last forever, a luxury for a busy farming family. As shadows outside lengthened, there was a brief pause in the chatter and laughter. William took the opportunity to stand and announce, “Well, as much as I hate to say it, my animals are not taking a holiday. I think it’s time to head home.”

Jesse looked down at the angelic face of his tiny grandniece, who was looking so intently into his eyes as he held her, and wondered why this child spoke so to his heart. Perhaps it was the unwillingness he sensed in Matilda to fully embrace her firstborn daughter. Maybe it was because he felt his mother’s spirit moving behind the clear eyes and serious, unblinking stare of the baby.

“William’s right, Lydia,” Great-uncle Jesse said, addressing his grandniece, “but you can be sure I’ll be back every chance I get.” Jesse made a silent vow in that moment to protect this child as long as he lived. Lydia whimpered for a few seconds as he handed her back to her mother. Everyone bundled up and headed to their homes, Ed road with William and his wife Ginny to the house across the creek they built when the brothers were both bachelors . Great-uncle Jesse set off in his buggy to the nearby family home that had been built by the man he called his father.

After years of profitable travel Jesse had returned to Kentucky and shared the house with his mother after her husband died. With his wealth he was able to add on to the simple cabin, purchase comfortable furnishings, and fill his mother’s last days with contentment and happiness. He rarely spoke of his early life to the rest of the family, but there was always an undercurrent of sorrow in him that spoke of some past tragedy. Lydia’s birth seemed to have stirred some old memory that brought him both pain and joy.