Dominique awoke to a pain that seared across her belly making it almost impossible to breathe. She had blissfully dozed off and was now awake to the full realization of what was about to happen. Sister Marguerite had spent the better part of the long night with her. Dominique eyes focused on the woman who had surprisingly become her confidant and support. Sister Marguerite spoke in the calmest of tones, “Just breathe slowly, Dominique. Concentrate on your breath—in and out.” Confident that she was actually dying, Dominique’s mind raced as she tried to get away from the pain. What was Marguerite saying? Couldn’t she see that this child was trying to tear itself out of her and kill her in the process?
She screamed and cried with each rhythmic wave of pain. The waves came so fast she could not even catch her breath, let alone concentrate on it. The contractions came too fast to allow her to meditate and she felt completely out of control. The meditation space in her mind, her very own garden, was miles away and impossible to reach in this moment. There was no peace in this process.
Hiding her pregnancy from the nuns at the convent had proven fairly easy given the voluminous tunics they wore. Only two people had become aware of her condition, the Abbot and Sister Marguerite. The Abbot, convinced that she was not actually sick, had eventually decided to visit her bed and discovered the child she had so effectively hidden. He had, of course, used her round belly to his benefit in Confraternity ceremonies glorifying the fertility bestowed upon them by their High Priestess, as evident in her fecundated figure. She felt like an object to be used and ogled. It felt degrading and disgusting.
Sister Marguerite had discovered the round belly Dominique kept well hidden during a visit to her bedchamber. Her reaction had been rather shocking in that rather than anger, Dominique looked into a face filled with tears. She held Dominique tenderly and stroked her hair as you might a frightened child. Unaware of the reasons behind Marguerite’s surprising reaction, Dominique was thankful and collapsed into the motherly embrace, sobbing unapologetically. Having never experienced the warm connection with her own mother, Dominique felt for the first time what she had missed and soon found her own tears mixing with Marguerite’s. Carrying her secret had been a burden which she now felt blessed to release.
As the hours of labor slipped by, Dominique was sure that if it didn’t end soon, she would die and for the briefest of moments, she welcomed that end. It seemed like it might be easier to just let go and be with her beloved father once more. Just as that thought crossed her mind, the child inside her demanded her attention. Dominique felt an enormous pressure and suddenly could not prevent the urge to push this creature out of her. The pain of each push downwards was both excruciating and welcome, as it brought her closer to relief. With each successive contraction, Sister Marguerite would encourage gently, “Now with this next pain, push as hard as you can—I can see the top of the baby’s head.” Dominique needed no urging, as she instinctively tried to expel this life that had possessed her body for months. With one final, guttural cry that came up from the depths of Dominique’s body, she pushed her child out and into the world.
Falling back on her cot, spent, she breathed a sigh born of the blissful cessation of pain. Dominique held her breath and waited for the first sound to emanate from her daughter. Hearing those first tiny sounds, Dominique fell into a deep sleep, not only out of sheer exhaustion, but also the worry that came from not knowing how she would look after this child.
Marguerite made excuses for Dominique’s absence telling the others at the convent that she was unwell. Over the next few days, she brought her soup lionnoise, stockfish, and wheaten bread from the kitchens and showed Dominique how to nurse her tiny daughter. Dominique was listless and uninterested. She kept seeing the Abbot looking back at her from her child’s face, it was unnerving. So far it had not come to the Mother Superior’s attention that there was a child in the convent born to one of her postulates but they could not hide forever.
Dominique knew she would have to decide how to proceed soon but she could see no adequate solution. Marguerite’s own pain left her without any good advice on the subject. She was just as convinced of no positive outcome. Unable to sleep, she became quite depressed and anxious. The food that Marguerite brought her remained untouched on the trays, as she had no appetite. Dominique’s skin took on a gray pallor and her eyes seemed like saucers in her face. The sense of optimism that had once been the hallmark of her personality seemed to have vanished leaving her empty and without hope.
A couple of days after the baby’s birth, the Abbot entered Dominique’s room, a place he felt quite comfortable and with a dismissive wave wordlessly told Sister Marguerite to leave. Casting a malevolent eye in his direction, she left, silently indicating to Dominique she would be right outside the door.
Walking over to the bundle in Dominique’s arms, he glanced down dispassionately. Dominique nervously awaited his response, feeling strangely guilty for her predicament, yet resentful at the same time. Conflict raged in her mind. Part of her felt responsible and protective towards this child, while another side resented her and could not bear to look at the gray eyes she knew belonged to her tormentor.
Tears streamed down her face as the Abbot callously said, “Get rid of it. I’m not sure why you haven’t already. No one knows besides Marguerite and she can be trusted to keep her mouth closed. The Brotherhood has been appropriately mesmerized by your show of fertility and they will be none the wiser. You can then return to your duties here and with the Confraternity—it will be as if it never existed“. Coldly, he stared at Dominique, “Drown it tomorrow. Take it to the river at sun up and just take care of this problem.” He virtually spat the last sentence at her, then turning on his heels and robes billowing, he left her room.
Dominique felt the air sucked out of her lungs. She had expected his displeasure but this was murder that he had so glibly ordered. Did he really mean for her to drown his baby? Did she have a choice? Within these walls, the Abbot’s authority was absolute. Unable to share the horror of his suggestion with Marguerite, she spent the sleepless night in a shocked daze. It seemed as though she was truly alone in this decision.
The darkness of night was already succumbing to the light of day that began to reach across the horizon. Dominique made her way reluctantly to the banks of the river. She moved as though some unknown force had the power to propel her forward against her own will. There was no conscious thought as she walked towards the river. She held the baby under her cloak, completely unaware that her tiny head kept twisting to find Dominique’s breast.
She reached her destination all too quickly. Not a soul was in sight as Dominique removed her cloak and held her child in front of her and regarded her without emotion. The baby’s small round face squinched as the brightening sun hit her eyes. As if in a trance, Dominique slowly and deliberately moved the baby towards the water. The infant made no sound as the water enveloped her. The clear water passed over the baby’s face and she locked eyes with Dominique.
In that instant, consciousness returned to Dominique, the trance state broken. The eyes that looked into hers were not those of the Abbot but her daughter. That moment of connection was filled with unconditional love. Her responsibility to the child she had just brought into the world became paramount. This baby was completely innocent and her unflinching gaze told Dominique that she loved her and trusted her to do the right thing. Strength and clarity returning to Dominique, she pulled her daughter quickly from the water and held her close. Sobbing and rocking her back and forth, Dominique whispered to her little girl, “You are my child, Nicole, not his. I will always take care of you, whatever comes our way. I promise, on my father’s soul that I will protect you and keep you from harm. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me.”
Her confidence and strength returning, Dominique marched back to the Abbey with a determination in her step, her daughter in full view. She felt a strength and empowerment that had eluded her up to this moment. Filled with the clarity of purpose, she faced the Abbot, eye-to-eye. “I intend to raise my child, regardless of what you say.” Dominique began, pleasantly surprised to see the look of shock and horror on his face. “I understand that I can no longer live at the convent. I have money in a trust, and I am not completely without resources. If you want my continued cooperation with your precious Confraternity, then you will see to it that we have a place to live. Beyond that, I will ask for nothing further from you and no one need ever know of your parentage.”
Dominique took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to maintain an air of confidence. The Abbot stared at her, silently, for several minutes before slowly nodding. His eyes smoldered with anger, but there was something about her no nonsense attitude that impressed him. There were few who could best him and this one had done just that.