Rora Paki is a housewife of Oparure several of whose stories have already appeared in this magazine. REMINISCENCES by RORA There surely is something wonderful about giving birth to a precious little baby. It has been enlarged upon so many times, the whole world over—the blessing of motherhood; yet very often it does not appear to be a blessing, in the early stages of pregnancy, when there is that persistent sickness in the pit of one's stomach, and an oversensitive sense of smell, not noticeable before, to say nothing of the sudden awareness of, and longing for, certain foods, especially those difficult to procure. Nor does it seem a blessing in the latter stages, when shortness of breath sets in, and various aches and pains come, and one becomes touchy, full of misgivings, and worries over the least thing. But, at last it is all over—the fretting, the worrying, the touchiness, the ill-humour, the misgivings and concern—all slip into the past and are soon forgotten, for the time being at least, in that wonderful feeling of motherhood, as it surges forth to envelop yet another tiny soul, who, though perhaps unwanted in early pregnancy, now strangely calls forth a deep well of love and joy and satisfaction, and peace with the world. Yes! It is indeed a blessing to hold such a tiny mite in your arms, and it is a privilege to watch his every expression and movement, but it is also a grave responsibility, for his little life is given into your care, and to you is left the care of his every need, and the early planning for his future welfare and training, and it is you who will eventually answer for this “little lamb of the flock,” and it is you who will be asked in that day, “where is thy flock, thy beautiful flock?” And so it was my joy and privilege to hold just such a tiny mite of humanity—to cuddle him close to my bosom—and to silently pledge myself to give him the best that it was in my power to give, and to bring him up in the “nurture and admonition of the Lord;” for such were the thoughts and the feelings that welled up within me, though I knew it to be no easy matter to carry out, for the “spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” After those first few days, I felt well and happy, and my thoughts began to reach out to the family at home. What would they be doing now, and how would they be faring?

Back on the Farm As I was to hear later, there was great excitement, back on the farm. The children were arguing the pros and cons of a name for the new addition. “I said all along that it would be a boy,” said a proud sister. “Anyway, I'm a boy so I'm going to be the boss of him,” said nine-year-old brother. “Wonder what his name will be?” said another sister. “Why don't we think of a name for him?” said another. “Because that's Mum and Dad's privilege,” said the oldest. And so they argued on, deciding anyway, to have a say in naming the baby, which names were duly put before me at the nursing home. Father was at the cowshed attending the cows that had slipped their calves and were not looking too good. “Well, well, everything happens at once,” he mutters to himself. “I've got to mend that fence, too, before I can go and see Mum, but anyhow, I'm glad its a boy; he'll be able to help with the cows in a few years time.”

At the Nursing Home The nights had been bitterly cold, though we were kept cosy inside by the heaters, and I would often be awake for long periods, and many were the thoughts that I turned over in my mind. I had been given the option of having the baby sleep in the ward with me, and I was told that this was being done now in many hospitals to-day, and I was glad to have him near me. How peacefully he slept; I would often bend close over him to make sure that he was breathing, and it struck me how little there was between him and oblivion; what a tiny thread that separated him from that great beyond. How full my heart would be at such times, as I would gaze down upon my tiny son; mine to fondle and care for, mine to lead and guide, mine to plan and direct his early life, that he might grow strong and straight, and later take his place in the community—a rood and well balanced citizen. Many times, in the stillness of those first few nights, I murmured an ardent prayer that his life would be watched over by the all-seeing One, and that His will would be done concerning his little life, and that I might be guided to rear him with patience and foresight, and so do my part towards setting his feet on the straight and narrow path.