Ilde laughs, and it blends with the sound of the water rushing nearby them; for a moment it's only like the tone of the river changes, not a separate sound. “No- no. The phrase is 'live birth', so when the baby's born, there's just baby.” And blood and fluid and other things that are less likely to get their own comfy, cosy blanket. “It's not for months yet. But it's baby, not cakes.”

Here, she means, patting her navel.