Chapter Three: Welcoming the sibling.

Concept: Soul.

*

The soul is the foundation of life in all living things, a culmination of experiences and memories. So…

What is the soul?

I’ve always asked myself that question.

What existence are we?

Where do we come from?

Are we that sentient frequencies that science tells us? Or better yet, one may be inclined to believe, a part of/created by some higher power? Probably even a piece of existence, the void which encapsulates all of creation, a providence?

Or maybe we are just manufactured products from a factory and distributed to our bodies, returned when they expire for a wipe then sent back into another?

Such confusing, mysterious phenomena, we are.

There is one important question I always ask as well…

I made a statement, or rather a theoretical observation, in one of my previous lifetimes: Souls have a fixed number.

In hindsight, looking at it from a business perspective and treating the soul as a commodity: over saturating the market with vast number could have long lasting effects of the economy and also have a toll on managing them.

So in order to reduce such burden we are reset and reused in an endless cycle.

But I have to ask. Are new souls still been created?

Is there a possibility of infantile souls that haven’t made it into the cycle, untainted by it’s curse?

I have no idea what we are. Where we came from. Or what our purpose really is in all this…

And as much as I want to know, I have no interest in them. They will only exhaust more lifetimes than I want to even live.

Our very existence: down from when we first obtain sentience, being called a soul, to when we first came into the material worlds, is truly a mystery.

There is one possibility to the question I asked. And the answer was all that which are said.

We may be splitted fragment of a higher power, the universe itself is our mother. A chip of that fragments of which drifted in the boundless cosmos till it became sentient and as an act of providence gave us vessels to host our true self.

Ha ha ha ha ha. What a funny and absurd notion all this is.

*

Chapter Three: Welcoming the sibling.

*

So it begun. The strenuous eight hours long labour.

A few minutes in and I was still lying on the floor when I heard the man return, a couple of people with him….

From the clutter alone I can tell what is going on inside.

“Fetch me some hot water” I hear a familiar voice. The one from my delivery and never since met, that old midwife. “We need more rags as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And the other one who took over.

I have long gotten use to the “miracle of life” that came from childbirth. I have seen it so many times, the almost eternal feeling strain. And in a few dozens of my lifetime I had experienced it myself.

Mhm, Moreso now more than ever, I can’t help but wonder. Which is me, gender-wise?

What was my origin point in that aspect? Even though I know what I started with, it is still a debate.

Do our souls even have gender to begin with?

… No, I think not. There is no need for us to procreate in that state as we are basically living energy, a bundle of memories and experience, lacking the lust of flesh. Could we, even if we wanted to? I doubt it…

When will this “story” begin? Such a slow prologue, it make me wonder if this is indeed a peaceful world. But I know better. A childish dream like that is non-existent, no matter how it looks, no matter the world it is, no matter the era and its outcomes.

Such were the pointless thoughts running through my head for the few hours I stared into the sky. The chirping of the birds and insects where distant as my sole concentration was on the green expanse above, accompanied by the muffled screams of a woman.

I was drawn out of my blank stupor as I figured the time was near.

Slowly I sat myself before turning towards the house.

The day grew dull.

Time for me to go in and have a look. If I am found out to have been close by, it would spell trouble. And assuming something bad happens to either of them, the blame would go to me. Even if I wasn’t close and that should happen the blame will me mine.

Not that I care about the outcomes. But I had once found an opening to their room when I was wandering the yard. Small crack in the wall, a good view to see how things are going.

Wondering if I ever spied on their love life. No. I didn’t care for that and not that I don’t know the details of the escapades. They never care to hide it even in my presence. Imagine a child of my age happening upon such a scene. It was fortunate that I am not of a child’s mind.

I inched closer to the house, to where the gap was.

Our house was a normal single floored house, with a basement and their room was on the opposite end of the kitchen.

The closer I got the louder I heard her voice and the comforting one of the midwife.

“Breath… breath… Anne I need another rag.”

I drop down to my knees and look through the crevice.

In there is the woman who brought me into this world propped up the usual child birthing position on the bed, cloth bridge over her thighs. She had a strained look sweating buckets trying hard to regulate her breathing. The woman sitting at the edge of the bed by her holding a cloth dabs it over her face going lower wiping the sweat.

The other one by the midwife, she must be Anne, hands over the rag and the midwife lays it beneath the sweating woman.

One thing I got to say is: my ‘mother’ has tenacity. She’s still strong even after the long grueling hours so far.

Using the title for the ones who brought me into this world, feels hollow. That attachment children are supposed to have for their parent and the bond they share never existed with us so it feels empty and distasteful calling them that. They have no right to that title.

Does that make me sound petty?

I’ll cease giving them tags and just call them by their names.

“I see it. The baby is coming. I'm going to need you to push.”

And with that started the real labour.

The gap isn’t that big and still obstructing but I can still make them out if I angle myself well.

Caela, gripped the sheets building up her energy and with a muffled scream, veins bulging out, gave her all to push the baby out…

“I see her head.”

A few moments later her scream died down a little.

“The head is out.”

The one beside mother, took the opportunity to wipe her off.

“Thank you, Arienh” Caela strained softly.

“Just a few more pushes.”

Saying that, I see Anne by the midwife takes a cloth wetting it a little in the basin with hot water and handed it to the midwife after a deep squeeze draining the excess water.

It’s a little hard to see but I can tell she uses the cloth to clean the fluid off the baby’s head before handling the cloth back to the woman.

She then dips her hand into the hot water. And using another cloth the one beside her wipes her hand.

Again, Anne handed her a neat cloth in a bowl and the old woman propped it before herself, before leaving the old woman’s side to grab something. She returned with a silver canteen, probably with mild scented yet strong spirit, removed its cork and poured it on the old woman’s hand with were on the cloth in the bowl. A bid to sterilize her hands from any germs.

Quickly closing the canteen and returning it to the nightstand as few steps away, she returns and grabbing the cloth wrapping it around the midwife’s wet hand, cleaning the excess liquid. All the was swift and precise also giving Caela the time to catch her breath.

“Get ready to give me another push. I’m going to assist you.”

Getting a strained nod from Caela, who was still regulating her breathing, the midwife reached what I assume is the baby’s head—I can’t see under the covering from here.

After getting a good enough grip, one that wouldn’t hurt the baby:

“Now push.”

She expelled the energy she had gather with a long strained grunt. I can see the midwife working her hand with a subtle tug…

Caela relaxed a bit catching her breath.

“That’s it. You’re almost there. Only the legs remain. Just one more push.”

Looks like she’s pretty much spent on energy. Her stamina is not that bad, ordinary at best.

She calms herself, takes in a deep breath and push.

I really do hate the impression during child birth. Looks like you’re taking a dump, some real constipation.

With that final push, the baby came out crying, announcing to the world its arrival. It’s shocking how she was quiet through that until she came out, fully.

What a soulful voice, not that pitchy and yet it really resonate, pulling you close. It’s just melodious. To have such voice as a baby.

Arienh wipes Caela off one last time.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl. You can rest easy.” That last statement seemed to have a deeper context. As if to say: She is unlike your son, normal.

From here the baby just looks like a humanoid shape of flesh. Almost gross.

I guess that’s it then. I have a sister.

“I want to see her. I want to see my daughter.”

The midwife’s aide, Anne, hands her a thick cloth and she wraps it around the baby before walking over to her side and placing the baby into her arm, umbilical cord still attached.

I see Arienh who had been wiping her down start to pack up and Anna moves towards the door and out. I can guess what she’s up to… To tell Varden the good news. He must have been pacing in the hallway or trying to calm his mind waiting in the dining.

“Such a cute little thing.”

She places her index into the baby’s hand, out of reflex the baby grabs hold.

“She’s opening her eyes… Such clear blue eyes, light, beautiful.”

I guess that rules the fact of her being mistreated, like I was. And here I though I would be getting a kindred spirit.

Varden, rushes in going straight to Caela, grabs her hand, going to his knees, a big smile on his face.

“Caela, how are you? Our daughter?”

“… Right here. Look at her isn’t she adorable.” She gestures to the one in her arms.

“That she is.” He leans his head to touch mothers forehead. They both look at the baby with a fawning smile.

“Her eyes were just a beautiful shade of blue.” She said softly that I almost didn’t hear.

“Just wonderful.”

What has the colour of ones eyes got to do with anything?

And so we, no, they welcomed the new addition to the house. I doubt they’d let me near her in fear that I might corrupt her or something. And as she ages, I’d have another who will torment me.

That said, I did welcome her silently.

“Have you thought of a name for her.” Asked the midwife with a smile.

“Yes.” Answered Caela, softly.

“You have…? Why haven’t I known about that?”

“I have…” She turns to the baby in her arms, smiling. “Her name is…”