Another surge rose up, unpleasant this time. In my position against the fence, it felt wrong, awkward, as if my bones, and not my flesh, were being strained. I didn't like it, and I found myself leaning forward, and rising onto all fours as the sensation grew, and as it ebbed, resting down again and finding myself leaning on the donkey. Strangely, she didn't seem to mind. It almost felt as if she yielded to my weight, welcoming me to rest against her warm side. I settled against her, half lying on my side, half kneeling, and found that the next surge was easier. As each sensation rose within me, I found myself absorbed by the rise and fall of the donkey's breath beneath me, and my own breath echoing it, deep and relaxed.

Between surges, I dozed. It had been a long day, and surges or none, I was exhausted. It wasn't until I was awoken by the moon shining brightly in my eyes from high overhead that I realised I must have been there some time. I got up - the donkey seemed asleep now - only to have to pause as another surge gripped me, then gingerly felt my way back into the pitch dark of the stable.

"Jo. Joseph."

"Mmmm"

"Go tell Bec to fetch the midwife."

"Bec? Oh the crazy lady from the well. Tell her... Oh!"

As realisation dawned in his sleep-groggy mind, he was suddenly alert, and leapt up.

"Right. Okay. Gotcha. Bec. I'll get her"

And off he raced, stubbing his toe on the manger in the process, by the sound of it. I giggled as he struggled to suppress a string of mild profanities.

I lay down in the dark, and after three or four more surges, Bec appeared with a lantern and a jug. She hung the lantern on a rafter overhead.

"That's better. We can't have you tripping over in the dark like your dear husband can we? Now, I'm going to have to go for the midwife myself. Levi's had a bit too much to drink I'm afraid and I can't wake him, and your Jo doesn't know the way of course. I promise we won't be long though love. Just keep resting and walking. And I've brought you some water. Don't let yourself get too thirsty. Will you be alright?"

I nodded, unable to speak as a new surge arose. Bec squatted beside me and rubbed my back until it was gone. Her caring was comforting, but somehow her touch took me out of myself and made it harder. I hoped the midwife wouldn't want to touch me too much when she arrived.

I wondered where Joseph was. I knew men weren't allowed to be present with a birthing woman, but part of me wished he was there. I just hoped he was somewhere comfortable, and not too worried.

Now that I had some light to see by, it felt good to walk. I paced back and forth in our little space, and soon settled into a new rhythm with the sensations. As each surge began to rise, I leaned with both hands on the end of the manger, and rolled and bobbed my hips as the wave washed over me. The memory of the donkey's deep breathing and the odd manger-cradle I was leaning on reminding me that my baby would soon be here, sustaining me as the surges became stronger and stronger. In the moments when I could think clearly, it seemed that Bec had been gone for a very long time, but most of the time I felt in another world. There was only the manger, the walls, and the soft golden light of the lantern. Between surges, I was moved by the beauty of this tiny, quiet space.

Up and down, up and down I walked. Around and around, time after time I swayed my hips over that manger. At the lowest front of my belly the surges gripped me, with a feeling like a bone breaking. Now there was pressure in my tailbone too, and I wished fervently for deep water, as if it would make my bones float up and away so my baby could come down. At the peak of an overwhelming surge I realised with astonishing clarity that there were only two possible endings to this process. Give birth or die. And I had begun to forget which I was doing.

Continued Part 4...