Although the Third of May Constitution had divided the ranks of the nobility, its first anniversary was greeted with unreserved, joyous celebration throughout the capital.
On that day Anna received several selling women and seamstresses in the downstairs reception room. Despite her continuing estrangement from her mother, Zofia attended and surprised Anna by seeming to enjoy helping Anna and Countess Gronska select from an assortment of babywear.
Countess Gronska had knitted a few things for the baby, but there were many more to be purchased. Anna preferred reading to sewing and so appreciated the painstaking craftsmanship that attended the making of the silken caps, the lace and cotton gowns, the tiny knitted booties, and, of course, the diapers. Each piece had some little flourish in design or coloring that was its maker’s signature, so Anna purchased at least a few items from each seller.
“Oh, Anna,” Zofia gushed, “you must let me buy this silken white robe for your child. Why, it’s fit for a crown prince!”
Anna could not answer, for she was holding her belly and gasping in pain. The searing sensation had come on unannounced. She became uncomfortably warm as a cycle of hot blood warmed her face, then drained away.
The paroxysm seemed to pass, only to flare up again. Anna cried out in pain. The women around her buzzed like worker bees around their queen.
Anna was coaxed to lean back in her chair. Her breath came and went fitfully. Her aunt and cousin were on either side of her, plying her with questions and reassurances. Lutisha and Marta bustled about her with grim faces. Anna was gripped with a sense of suffocation that threatened to overwhelm her. She became very faint.
The pain struck a third time and Anna panicked. Was this usual? Had she come so far only to miscarry now, as her mother had done several times? Fear enveloped her.
She pointed to those clothes she had chosen and they were placed in her lap. She clasped them to her, closing her eyes, feeling warm and alien movements within herself.
“Lean forward to breathe, Countess,” Lutisha ordered, her hand pressing down on her head. Then the servant’s other hand—so large, Anna thought—was held to her belly. During the next several minutes, the pain came and went, came and went.
“The Countess Anna,” Lutisha announced at last, “is about to give birth.”
“It’s impossible!” Countess Gronska said. “She isn’t due until next month.”
“You must be mistaken, Lutisha,” Zofia said.
“In no time, Countess Zofia, you can tell that to the child itself,” Lutisha dared to say. “It is ready to enter the world.”
Anna listened absently to the buzz of conversation and whirr of activity. Suddenly, she became aware of a warmth spreading over her legs. She opened her eyes to find her lower body awash with water. Lutisha was right: she was about to give birth!
While she marveled that a child could come into the world so quickly, she was filled with fear, not so much fear for the pain she knew would come, but fear for the child. She knew early babies did not often survive.
The selling women were being dismissed, and each time the door to the street was opened, Anna could hear the festive music playing throughout the capital. That her child was being born on the third of May gave her confidence. Her father had once told her to look for signs in small things.
“The countess must go to her bed,” Lutisha said.
“We’ll not attempt the stairs,” Aunt Stella replied, her mind never clearer than in this crisis. “Take her to my room.”
While the countess and Marta rushed away to prepare the bed, Zofia and Lutisha supported Anna in her walk to her aunt’s room.
Hours passed. Anna was nearly unconscious when a priest appeared at the bedside. He told her what prayers to say, but the searing pain left her unable to speak. Before departing, he placed a rosary in her hand; however, she soon lost hold of it.
“Can you hear me, Anna Maria?” It was her aunt’s voice.
“Yes.”
“We’ve sent for the physician, but he may not arrive in time. Lutisha will deliver, if need be. She has experience. Do you understand?”
Anna nodded.
The room seemed unbearably hot. Perspiration ran from every pore of her face. The combs had been taken from her hair, freeing it to fall about her shoulders in wet strands. She did all that was requested of her.
Lutisha prepared to serve as mid-wife. The countess and Marta would assist. Zofia excused herself, whispering words of encouragement to her cousin, then removing herself from the room.
The pain heightened.
Outside, the Third of May celebration escalated, the lively polkas and mazurkas providing a surreal background to Anna’s ordeal. Anna began to move to the music in the bed, not caring what those attending her would think. Later, she thought she only dreamt she was able to move to the music.
That she called out in pain no one could contest. Anna had never known such pain. For a time she felt certain her own death was near. She knew that many women did not survive childbirth. Her first prayer, however, was for her child. Through the fiercest paroxysm, she heard her aunt at her ear: “God gives nothing freely,” the countess whispered, “but opens everything, and everyone takes from God as much as she wants.”
She felt the women touching her, directing her, urging her. She placed her faith in God and in Lutisha. Neither had disappointed her before.
Push, Anna, push! Again. Harder, Anna! It’s coming, Anna. Push! The baby is coming!
The greatest effort, the greatest strain she could ever imagine came, endured, and finally passed. This time was short, she was told later, yet it seemed an eternity.
Anna’s eyelids flew back at the sound of a high-pitched screaming. An infant’s sound! Lutisha was holding the child high in the air. The cord had been cut.
The screaming child was drenched in blood and other matter, and at first sight Anna thought it was dying. Lifting her head, she tried to call out in alarm.
“It’s the most beautiful baby boy,” her aunt announced.
“He’s bleeding—”
“We need only to wash him off,” Lutisha said. “He is a wondrous babe!”
Anna tried to smile as she lay back upon the pillows. I have a son!
The women seemed to take forever in their separate attention to Anna and the child. She longed to call out, to demand she be given her baby, but she couldn’t speak because she was so weak and lightheaded.
At long last, the child was placed in her arms. For a moment, she thought the women were mistaken. The infant seemed so small and fragile she thought it a girl. Though she would have welcomed a girl, she saw for herself now that it was indeed a son.
“Do you have a name in mind, dearest?” her aunt asked.
“Yes. This is Lord Jan Michał.” She hugged the squirming pink body to her naked breasts, lightly fingering the fine wisps of blond hair. After a time the child slept. Anna, too, was exhausted by the ordeal of birth and soon fell into a peaceful sleep, her child in the crook of her arm.
Later, she would notice that Lutisha had tied a red ribbon around the baby’s wrist, a protection against the evil eye.