With a pad of cotton he generously swabbed her stomach, thighs and genitals with alcohol. It stung his own fingers where he’d broken the cuticles with the scrub brush, but he scarcely noticed. For good measure, he swabbed the tug straps before gently lifting her heels and slipping the leather loops snug behind her knees. Then he placed an additional clean folded flannel sheet beneath her.
"W-W-Will," she panted as another contraction began.
"Yes, love," he answered quietly, but stood at his post, eyes riveted on her constricting belly, watching it slowly begin to arch, watching her dilation grow with the pain.
"W-W-Wiiiiill!" It tore from her as a rasping cry while the contraction built and peaked. He placed his palms beneath her thighs and helped her through it, feeling her muscles tighten as she lifted. Only when she relaxed did he raise his eyes to her face. Beads of sweat stood on her brow. The fine strands of hair at her hairline were damp and darkened to the color of aged cornsilk. Her lips looked dry and cracked. She wet them with her tongue while he thought of the jar of Vaseline he dared not touch. Before her lips had dried, another pain arrived and with it the sight of the baby’s dark scalp.
"I see her!" Will cried. "Come on, darlin’, once more and she’ll be here!"
He waited with his hands spread in welcome, chancing not so much as a glance away from the dark hair now clearly visible. Elly’s womb arched, her legs tightened on the straps, her hands on the iron rails. A ragged scream rent the air and Will learned what perineum meant as he watched Elly’s tear. But he had no time to dwell on it, for at the same moment the baby’s head slipped through-facing backward, as promised, facedown and slippery in his waiting hands. Then, as if by some miracle, it turned to the side, following the normal course of events, and he cradled it on his palm, tiny and sleek and red.
"Her head is out, darlin’. Oh, God, she has dark eyebrows." The distorted face was frighteningly dark and marked from the rigors of birth, but the warning in the book stood Will in good stead as he told himself it was to be expected; the child would not choke from the perineum drawn tightly about its neck. Don’t panic! Don’t try to pull her out!"Easy there, now, little one," he murmured to the baby. "I got to clean your mouth out." As if Nature knew exactly what she was doing, she allowed just enough time for Elly to rest and for Will to run his finger into the baby’s mouth and clear it before Elly bore down and the baby’s lower shoulder appeared, followed by the upper, then, in one grand release, the full birth happened. Into Will’s waiting hands spilled a creature with a dark face, connected to its mother by a thin, crimped lifeline. Slippery and wet she came, filling his heart with a wild thrum of excitement, his face with a wide beam of wonder.
"She’s here, Elly, she’s born! And you were right. She’s a girl. And… oh… lord, smaller than my hands." Even as he spoke, he rested his precious cargo on Elly’s stomach while she panted in the brief natural respite following full birth. Releasing her grip on the headrail, Elly reached down to touch the baby’s head, lifting her own with an effort and smiling wearily. As her head fell back she laughed and tears leaked down her temples.
"Is she pretty?"
"She’s the sorriest mess I ever seen." He laughed in relief. Until Elly was hit by an aftershock and grunted, straining until her face shook and turned purple. He laid the baby down and tried to help Elly through the second wave of pushing pains. But the afterbirth refused to come. She fell back, panting, near exhaustion, her eyelids quivering. Another pushing pain produced the same results, and Will swallowed the lump of fear in his throat, doing what he knew he must do. He rested one hand in the soft hollow of her stomach, fitting its heel at the top of her womb and manipulating it to create a man-made contraction. She moaned and mindlessly tried to push his hand away. He forced from his mind the fact that he must hurt her to help her. His eyes smarted. He cleared them on his shoulder and vowed he’d never make her pregnant. He reached inside her tender flesh, loosening the afterbirth while kneading her soft stomach. Suddenly he felt a change as her own body took over. Her abdomen contracted and beneath his ministration the afterbirth pulled loose inside, dropping low to create a slight swelling beneath her matted hair. "Come on, Elly-honey, one more push and you can rest." From some hidden source she found the strength for another mighty effort that brought a last gush as her body delivered the afterbirth, severing her completely from the life she’d supported for nine months.
Will’s shoulders drooped. He closed his eyes, sucked in a great lungful of air, dried his brow on a sleeve and praised simply, "Good, honey. It’s all done. Hang on now." His hands were remarkably calm as he tied the first string an inch and a half from the baby’s body, leaving only enough space between it and the second stricture for the scissor to do its work. The silver blades met and the deed was done. The baby was on her own.
Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!
The word resounded through Will’s mind as he picked up the baby and watched it fold into a fetal position within his hands. Through his memory skittered the various directions for shocking a newborn into drawing its first breath. A smart smack. Cold water. Artificial respiration. But to do any of them to a creature so tiny seemed sadistic. Come on, girl, breathe!… Breathe! Fifteen seconds sped by, then thirty. Don’t make me use that cold water. And I’d rather cut off my own hand than slap you.He heard the boys come in and call from the other side of the door. They scarcely registered. His heart raced. Desperation clawed at him. He gave the baby a shake. Breathe, dammit, breathe! Panicking now, he tossed her a foot in the air and caught her as she dropped. A second after she hit his hands her mouth opened, she hiccuped, started flailing with all fours and began bawling in the puniest voice imaginable. It came in undulations-wauu, wauu, wauu-accompanied by a comical face with pinched mouth, flattened nose and the beat of her tiny fists against the air. It was a soft cry, but healthy and wonderfully vexed at being treated so roughly during her first minute in the outside world.
Will looked down into the bloody face, heard the welcome complaint and laughed. In relief. In celebration. He kissed the miniature nose and said, "Way to go, girl. That’s what we wanted to hear." Then, to his wife, "She’s breathing, and beautiful and looks as normal as a one-dollar bill." Abruptly his mood sobered. "Elly, you’re shivering." During the minute he’d concentrated on his duty, she’d been gripped by natural chills. She lay now shuddering, her exposed limbs damp, the bedding beneath her soaked. Lord, a man needed six hands at a time like this.
"I’ll be all right," Elly assured him. "Take care of her first."
It was hard to do, but he had little choice, given the fact that Elly’s directive agreed with those he’d memorized. So far things had gone in perfect, natural order. He’d proceed by the book and hope their luck held. But he paused long enough to lay the baby down and gently remove Elly’s legs from the tug straps, lower them and cover her. He brushed a light kiss on her dry lips, and whispered, "I’ll be back as soon as I get her bathed. You be okay?"
She nodded weakly and closed her eyes.
He crooked the baby in one arm, opened the door with the other and found Donald Wade and Thomas on the other side, holding hands and crying pitifully.
"We heard Mama scream."
"She’s better now-look." Will knelt. The sight of the red, squawling baby stopped their crying with amusing suddenness. "You got a baby sister." Donald Wade’s mouth dropped open. The tears hung on Baby Thomas’s sooty lashes. Neither of them spoke a word. "She just got here."
As one, they resumed bawling.
"I wanna see Mamaaaa!"
"Maamaaa!"