Born in December
It was a gloomy day in December, the first of winter, and the midwife needed help. She sent the bewildered husband to beg the doctor to come. Panicked and wild eyed he ran to the doctor’s house and brought him back toting a little black bag.
“Now what is the problem” he asked as he entered the room. “That took me from my warm fire and whiskey? Is it breech? Or maybe a nuchal hand?”
“Both,” she replied to his astonishment. “Just watch.” And true to her word, a foot popped out, and then a hand reached out and grabbed that foot to pull it in.
“Oh, my.” Said the astonished doctor. “This is one for the record books.” He puzzled about the situation for a few minutes and then with a gasp he shouted, “I know what this is! It’s twins, and they are already fighting, in this case to see who will be born first.”
“No, really?” queried the midwife. “I’ve delivered plenty of twins, but none like this.”
The exhausted mother looked distressed. “Twins?” I should have known, they have already kicked me black and blue.”
“Don’t worry, my dear, your trial will soon be over,” the doctor consoled.
“More like just begun,” the mother muttered.
“So, Midwife,” said Doctor, “Next time you see that foot, grab hold. When the hand comes out I’ll get that. You will need to push that foot back in while I pull the child with the hand out. It’s up to us to decide who gets born first.” And so they executed their plan with much pushing and tugging, and at last a tiny baby boy was presented to the mother.
“I’ll call him Bleda,” she said, “because he has been such bleeding trouble.” Then other child flipped over and pulled himself out, spitting and wailing and complaining. “And this one I’ll call Atiller.”
So it is, that though Bleda calls himself the first born, Atiller declares it was his foot that first saw the daylight, so true bragging rights go to him.
As the doctor packed up his little black bag, he said, “Mark my words. “Those two will never stop fighting.
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