Famine and Chaos: Weaving Cloth in Exile to Escape the War

More intense and rapid contractions came, one after another, like a bull ramming and pounding inside my belly.

Kyoto Haru felt her vision blurring, her ears ringing, and she couldn't even hear the howling wind and snow outside. All she could hear was her own breathing and the churning pain in her stomach.

She knew that she was really going to give birth.

All that previous trouble was just an appetizer.

She didn't know if it was the 100th or 100th time she had exerted all her strength, but she felt that every last bit of energy in her body, from her hair to her toes, had been completely drained away, leaving not a single drop.

At that moment, only one thought remained in Kyoto Haru's mind.

She thought, "That's it, I'll just die from the pain. I'll close my eyes and I won't have to suffer anymore."

But then she thought, if she died in this dilapidated hut, her soul would be blown away by the northwest wind, and who knows where it would go? Would she be able to be reborn as a human in her next life?

Just as she was lost in thought, a cry pulled her back to reality.

"Mother...mother!"

It is Xiaoman (Grain Buds).

The child had somehow gotten close and was now smearing her own filthy, unrecognizable sleeve haphazardly on Kyoto Haru's face.

Immediately, Xiaoman wiped her hand, which was covered in cold sweat.

"Mom, don't scare me... You're sweating so much... What's wrong?..."

Xiaoman was terrified, fearing that something else might happen to Jingchunzhi.

"Don't be afraid... Mother is alright!"

Jing Zhichun squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth and gave a weak smile.

Xiaoman only has her, and if she dies, I doubt the child will survive.

Therefore, she cannot fall; if she falls, everything will be over.

With a sudden surge of determination, Kyoto bit her tongue hard, and immediately tasted a metallic flavor in her mouth. The pain jolted her awake and made her much more alert.

How long has she been making a fuss?

The sun had been setting for some time now, and it was pitch black outside. The fire in the stove had been added again and again, and the firewood was almost gone. It must have been two or three hours.

Jing Zhichun caught her breath, looking at Xiaoman, trying to force a smile, but her face was too stiff to move, and she could only manage a twitch at the corner of her mouth: "Xiaoman, listen to your mother... Mother has no strength left... Go, bring... that bowl of porridge... from the pot..."

Upon hearing this, Xiaoman acted as if she had received an order. She hastily wiped her snot and tears with her sleeve and scrambled to the dark stove.

Only a small half bowl of cooled brown rice porridge remained in the pot, covered with a wrinkled skin.

She quickly picked up the chipped, rough earthenware bowl with her small hands and stumbled over to Jing Zhichun.

"Mother, let me feed you."

Kyoto Haru shook her head, raised her hand and took the bowl, "No need, I'll just drink it."

After saying that, she picked up the bowl and began to drink it in large gulps.

The bowl was soon emptied.

Jing Zhichun handed the bowl to Xiaoman, then slumped back onto the pile of tattered quilts that served as a backrest, closed her eyes, and savored the little strength she had just gained.

She knew she absolutely couldn't stop now. If she did, all the suffering and sweat she had endured would be for nothing, and the little devil in her belly would suffocate halfway there.

"Xiaoman...go behind your mother...support your mother's waist...give your mother some strength..."

Xiaoman nodded quickly, then crawled up behind Jingzhichun, pressing her thin, frail body, barely thicker than a pillow, tightly against her mother's sweaty, cold lower back.

How much strength can a four-year-old child have?

But at that very moment, that tiny bit of support, with its tangible warmth, became the last straw that Jingzhichun could grasp amidst the boundless pain and biting cold.

The moment of truth has arrived.

Another contraction surged up, arching out from the deepest part of her body like a tidal wave!

Kyoto Haru suddenly let out a muffled roar, so suppressed it was almost inhuman.

She dug her fingers into the cold, hard wooden board beneath her, straining with all her might.

She could clearly feel the little thing inside her emerging from the deepest part of her body.

As the area below was stretched to its limit, a pain mixed with tearing and burning sensation almost blew Kyoto Haru's skull open.

"ah-!!!"

Kyoto Haru screamed in pain.

At the same time, a cry of "Whoa—!!!" was heard.

Immediately, a loud and frightening baby's cry shattered the quiet of the thatched hut.

gave birth!

She's finally given birth!

Jing Zhichun's body went limp, as if all her strength had been drained away. She collapsed onto Xiaoman's small body behind her, her eyes closed, panting heavily. She didn't even have the strength to open her eyelids.

"Mother! Mother! Little brother! Little brother is out!"

Xiaoman cried and shouted behind her.

It was a pleasant surprise, and I could hardly believe it.

She had thought her mother was just having severe stomach pains, just like before, but little did she know she was actually giving birth.

She could only hear her brother crying loudly, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

"Mother, where is my little brother?" Xiaoman asked.

Kyoto Haru said weakly, "Mother will show it to you."

After saying that, she forced herself to sit up, and then shakily reached out and lifted the quilt covering her legs.

Then a small, bright red body appeared, still slightly moving.

Jing Zhichun didn't have time to savor the feelings in her heart; the three life-threatening ordeals of motherhood were still waiting for her.

The placenta needs to be removed, the umbilical cord needs to be treated, and precautions need to be taken against severe bleeding and frostbite.

"Xiaoman...fire...the fire can't go out...quickly...quickly add some more durable firewood to the stove..."

While forcing herself to stay awake and tend to the child, Jing Zhichun gave instructions in a hoarse voice.

Xiaoman then saw her younger brother lying in the blood.

He was red and wrinkled, covered in a layer of grayish-white sticky stuff, like a hairless red monkey, frighteningly ugly.

She stared in disbelief, forgetting to say anything, only nodding blankly. Her hands and feet moved to the stove on their own, grabbed two firewood sticks, and mechanically stuffed them into the firebox.

Here, the baby's umbilical cord is still attached to Kyoto Haru, pulsating slightly, which means that the placenta has not completely detached and cannot be cut now.

Jing Zhichun quickly used the thick bath towel to wrap the child up completely, and then took the relatively clean soft cloth that had been prepared in advance to carefully wipe away the mucus around the baby's mouth and nose.

Then, enduring the aches and pains all over her body, she laboriously turned her body slightly to place the baby lower than her own body, so as to prevent blood from flowing back down the umbilical cord.

With her other hand, she pressed firmly on her lower abdomen, watching for any contractions and whether there was any abnormal bleeding.

Time passed slowly, and Kyoto Haru felt that every breath she took was slow and long.

Finally, another mild contraction, accompanied by a feeling of pressure, came. She held her breath and, with the help of this natural force, used the last bit of strength she had left.

Immediately, a dark red, membranous substance slid out smoothly.

This is the placenta. It looks whole, without anything missing.

Jing Zhichun's heart, which had been in her throat, finally settled down.

If the placenta is fully expelled, the risk of postpartum hemorrhage is significantly reduced.

Now comes the most important and nerve-wracking step: cutting the umbilical cord and tying the incision.

Jing Zhichun reached for the old scissors by the bedside, which had been burned and scalded with boiling water. She disinfected them with iodine, took a deep breath, and then tied a tight knot with cotton thread about two fingers' width away from the child's navel.

Then, pick up the scissors and cut into the umbilical cord that is tied at the top.

There was a soft, crisp "snap."

The strap broke.

Jing Zhichun didn't dare to delay. She immediately picked up the iodine bottle and carefully applied it to the broken end of the child's umbilical cord. This was the most decent disinfection she could do at the moment.

After doing all this, Kyoto Haru finally dared to slowly exhale the breath she had been holding in.

By this time, it was already daylight. The room was as cold as an ice cave, and the newborn baby was shivering from the cold, even its cries had become much quieter.

Jing Zhichun quickly wrapped the child in a bath towel and carefully tucked him into the quilt where Xiaoman had slept.

She herself was soaked with sweat, and a gust of wind made her shiver several times.

She grabbed a slightly drier old cloth from the side and hastily wiped the cold sweat from her face, neck, and body.

If I don't take care of myself soon, I'll definitely fall ill if I get chilled by the cold wind.

After finishing her work, Kyoto Haru slumped against the pile of quilts, feeling as if all her bones had fallen apart, and every part of her body ached.