First Born
The child’s eyes were beautiful. Brown, inquisitive, open already, and looking at her new world.
Her mother, Sarah Cohen, was exhausted. Childbirth hadn’t been as difficult as her own mother had warned, but it had been a labor. Long and painful, but with this delightful girl at the end nestled warm in her arms.
“Not again!” Mrs. Chaipul, the midwife, muttered.
Her words sounded worried. Sarah looked up from the babe. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfectly,” answered Mrs. Chaipul. She patted Sarah’s hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Where is your husband?”
“He said he was going to Smyrna to buy some cloth. He should be back any time.”
Mrs. Chaipul shook her head and clucked her tongue. What was it about the men of Chelm that they were never around for this moment? Perhaps it was true everywhere. Men always seemed to have appointments in other parts of the world when their wives were giving birth.
“Do you mind holding her?” Mrs. Chaipul said.
Sarah smiled, “Not at all.”
“Because we’re not done.”
Again Sarah felt nervous. “What do you mean?”
“Twins,” Mrs. Chaipul said, “A double blessing. I’m sorry. I should have caught it earlier. It’s all right. I had plenty of experience with the Schlemiel twins. Born twelve hours apart. That was a challenge! This will be easy. Well, not easy, but… Just follow my directions and begin pushing again.”
Twins? Sarah’s mind began to spin. She was ready for one child. She was ready for a daughter. But another? Two mouths to feed? She remembered what happened to Rebecca Schlemiel after her boys were born. The fighting, the arguing, the confusion, the exhaustion. It was crazy. It was impossible.
No. It was a dream. Perhaps she was asleep even now.
Then she looked at the girl in her arms. The baby’s brown eyes were staring at her with hope and love and curiosity.
It would be a shame to wake up from the dream and leave behind a beautiful soul like this.
She felt something moving.
“When would you like me to push?” Sarah asked.
“Now would be nice!”
* * *
The door to the Cohen house slammed open as Benjamin Cohen ran inside.
“Shut the door!” Mrs. Chaipul shouted. “It’s still winter and the cold won’t do anyone any good.”
The panting tailor shut the door behind him. “Are they all right?”
Mrs. Chaipul nodded, “Everyone is fine.
Benjamin gave the midwife a grin and a hug. He reached for the knob to the bedroom door, and then he stopped. “How many fingers and toes?”
Mrs. Chaipul calculated for a moment and then answered, “A hundred.”
“A hundred!” Benjamin smiled. Then he paused, “What?”
Mrs. Chaipul nodded. “I assume you have all of yours, and Sarah has all of hers.”
“Yes,” Benjamin said, “Yes.”
The old woman shrugged and sipped her tea. “I have all of mine.”
Benjamin’s face knitted into a frown as he calculated. “That’s twenty extra.”
“It is.”
“I don’t understand.” Benjamin was imagining a hand with five extra fingers. A foot with five extra toes would need a specially made shoe. Were the fingers and toes on the same arms and legs or were there extra arms and legs? “I thought you said that everyone was all right!”
The exhausted midwife spooned more sugar into her tea. “They are. And if you made it your business to be here on time, instead of gallivanting around the countryside without a care in the world, you would understand and I wouldn’t have to explain everything.”
Benjamin put his hands on his hips. Mrs. Chaipul was a rather important woman in Chelm, but she was still just a woman. Yes, she ran the only kosher restaurant. Yes, she was the closest thing the village had to a doctor, veterinarian, and midwife. Yes, she and the rabbi seemed to be engaged in perpetual negotiations for marriage. But still. This was no way to treat him in his own house on the afternoon of the birth of his first child.
“Tell me woman,” he demanded, “what is going on?”
Mrs. Chaipul peered at Benjamin. She shook her spoon at him. “You need to learn more manners. And you owe me an extra chicken.”
Such insults and insolence! Benjamin could barely restrain himself. Enough talking with this foolish woman.
He yanked the door open and marched into his bedroom.
The sudden noise, draft, and light from the kitchen startled Sarah, who was dozing. She looked up. “Benjamin?”
“It’s me,” he whispered. The curtains were drawn, and for him, the room was quite dark. “Ow!” He banged his knee against a chair that shouldn’t be there. “Ow, ow, ow!”
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.
“I’m fine.” He rubbed his leg. “How are you?”
“I’m tired. I’m exhausted. But I’m fine.”
“And the child?” he asked. He hated asking. He was afraid to ask. What was the point of hiring a midwife if she wouldn’t give you a simple answer to a simple question?
“They’re fine,” Sarah said.
He was closer now, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see the smile on his wife’s face. She looked pale, but so wonderful.
“They?” he said. “Twins?”
A nod. “A boy and a girl.”
“Really?” he said in amazement.
Sarah stared at her husband. “You think I’d make something like this up? You think I’d lie at a time like this? You think you wouldn’t figure it out in a moment whether we have one baby or two?”
“No,” he said. Why was everyone picking on him? “I’m just surprised.”
“Me too,” Sarah said. “I was. So are they.”
“Who was born first?”
Sarah glanced to her left and smiled. “She was.”
Benjamin frowned. “Really? Let’s tell everyone that he was.”
“What? Why?”
“Because being first born is important to a boy.”
“I don’t understand.”
Benjamin nodded. “You’re not a boy.” As the third son in a family of seven children, Benjamin knew how much his older brothers had lorded over him. “We’ll just tell everyone that he was born first. It’s important. It’s crucial.”
“Crucial?” Sarah said. “I don’t know that we should lie about such a thing.”
Benjamin frowned. “Have you ever been held upside down by your ankles over a cesspool?”
“No!” Sarah said. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, no. Not at all!” Benjamin answered quickly. “But I have been. By my older brothers. I still remember the smell.” He shuddered in revulsion.
“They were so cruel to you.”
“My brothers were bigger and older,” Benjamin explained. “It’s the way of the world.”
“But she’s only older by a few minutes,” Sarah said. “And she’s no bigger than he.”
“Minutes matter.” Benjamin was firm about it. “So, we’ll tell them that he was born first. We’ll tell Mrs. Chaipul. She’ll have to agree.”
“All right,” Sarah answered weakly.
“May I pick him up?”
“Yes, of course.” She felt the weight lift from her right side.
“He’s handsome.”
The exhausted mother smiled. “Yes, he is.”
“I have a son!” Benjamin Cohen said proudly.
“And a daughter,” Sarah added.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Benjamin reached out a finger and touched his daughter’s cheek. “A daughter as well. But a son! Think of that. A son!”
Until that moment, Sarah had loved her husband, but just then she felt her heart breaking, and for an instant she hated him.
“Give him back to me,” she demanded. “Now.”
“Why?”
“He’s hungry. We’re tired. We need some rest. You got the fabric you wanted? Go to work.”
Benjamin surrendered the boy. He noticed, but dismissed, the curt tone of his wife’s voice. She was tired. And a son was something to be proud of.
He turned and banged his shin. “Ow! Who put that chair there!”
When she heard the door close, Sarah Cohen hugged her children tightly, but gently.
“You are both mine,” she whispered. “You are both important.”
