The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy) (21 page)

“You need to go take a load off your feet, honey,” insisted Dotty, a pert and petite curly-haired blonde from the community.  She had been one of the volunteer cooks who moved around the kitchen faster than anyone, in spite of the fact that she had to stand on an upturned cinder block to reach the grill.  Even though everyone had been settled into houses, they still used the outdoor kitchen for cooking huge deer and elk which everyone would share in a big barbecue style picnics.  Their get-togethers resembled church suppers more so than refugee camps.

“My back feels better when I walk,” explained Abigail, “If I lie down I can't breathe, and sitting puts an uncomfortable pressure on my back.”

“You look to me like you're in labor,” said Dotty.  “You need to get checked out.”

“No, no,” said Abigail, “I'm not due until the twentieth.”

“This must be your first,” said Dotty, in a teasing voice.  “Otherwise you'd know they never come on the exact due date.  That's about two weeks away, which means you are probably in labor, my dear.”

Abigail was about to argue that she hadn't had any pains, and in fact had felt fine until she tried to get comfortable on the cot.  But in the midst of her protests, her water broke.  The two women stood looking at the puddle surrounding Abigail's feet.  Dotty walked with her to provide support, her shoulders reaching comfortably where Abigail's arms fell over her.  They made their way all the way down to the end of the rows of beds where her group had gathered. 

“Get her a wheelchair,” said Ruthie loudly, seeing her condition and directing her orders to anyone who was within earshot.  Jodie ran to the elevator and punched the button for the hospital floor.  Ruthie handed baby Rayetta to Nathan and asked Abby if she wanted her to help attend the birth.

“I would love it,” said Abigail, “but I hate to take you away from your family.”

“You're family, too,” she answered, taking her hand.  Abigail grabbed and squeezed it tightly as she felt her first actual labor pain.

“Cal, as soon as we get to the floor,” Ruthie said with authority, “you get some ice in a plastic bag and wrap it in a towel.  That's the best thing for back labor.  And do not lie flat on your back, Abby, whatever you do.  Even if some nurse or doctor tells you to, even for the delivery.  You can sit on the edge of the bed just as easily.  For this kind of labor, sit or straddle a chair backwards and lean your weight into a pillow against the back of the chair. You do not want any pressure on your backbone.  Let gravity help push the baby downward and get his head off your spine.”  She was still giving instructions as they wheeled Abigail into the elevator.

When they reached the hospital floor, a nurse asked Ruthie, “Are you an RN?  All of the staff who attend births are required to have a nursing degree and mid-wife certification.”

“No, I don't have any of those things,” argued Ruthie, “but I delivered my last baby with the help of my husband in a trailer, and two out of three of mine have been transverse deliveries which were birthed in our bathtub.”   

“Don't even think about sending her away,” warned Abigail.  “I refuse to have my baby without Ruthie and my husband at my side.”

As the nurse continued to reason with her that one simply could not refuse to give birth, Dr. Cory arrived on the scene.  He told the nurse that this hospital did not operate under the medieval guidelines which she obviously remembered from her youth.  He gave both Ruthie and Cal permission to be present, and he assured Abigail that she could give birth by any method she preferred, providing her with such options as a water birth, Lamaze, a birthing chair, or all the drugs and painkillers medical science had to offer. 

He walked with them to a birthing room complete with a sofa, rocking chair, and a television with a DVD player. 

“Do people actually watch movies while they're in labor?” asked Abigail, not able to imagine such an interest at the time.

“They do,” answered the doctor.  “I've heard a good laughing fit was once responsible for a woman actually going into labor after all attempts to induce had failed.  Mostly, the movies are for the benefit of family members when attending an especially long labor.  I once delivered a baby while the older siblings were watching Spongebob.  Imagine that new little guy coming into the world to the strains of
Spongebob Squarepants
,
Spongebob Squarepants,
” he sang.

“Oh, we know that song at our house,” laughed Ruthie.

The walls were painted in a soft teal, and lovely art hung wherever space was not taken for medical equipment mounted on the wall.  A coffee machine and beverage dispenser stood on a sidewall counter.  Blankets and pillows were piled in a corner for the comfort of relatives and friends.  Childbirth had become a family affair, at least where Dr. Cory practiced his trade.

“She's having back labor, Dr. Cory,” said Ruthie, feeling confident that he would understand.

“I would recommend the birthing chair,” he said proudly.  “Give us a few minutes to roll it down the hall.  Not even all the civilian hospitals have one of these.”

“I've only heard about them,” said Ruthie, “What do you two think, Abby?  Here I am giving orders and it's your baby.”  Abigail smiled and said she wanted to try the chair.

“I want anything and everything that will make Abby as comfortable as possible,” said Cal, “and I think mostly that's you, Ruthie.”

Abigail climbed into the chair, and Ruthie got a pillow for her to lean forward and rest her head against the cushion.  It was equipped with shoulder pads which relieved the weight off her back immediately.  A hole in the seat of the chair permitted the doctor to examine Abigail by pumping the chair to a comfortable height as he rolled under her on a stool.  From here, he would deliver the baby, which he immediately determined was turned wrong.  That meant a long, long labor, and possibly a Cesarean, if the baby was turned too badly to pass through the birth canal.

“He's twisted in a way that will probably end with a face-up birth,” said Dr. Cory.  “It's very hard on the mother, especially one that's already helped supervise a major human migration event earlier in the day.  Well there's something I could try...”

All three looked at him, wondering what could be done in such a situation.  Anything they could imagine involved going places that did not seem possible without a lot of pain and possible risk.

“I've had success with this technique once,” he said, “and no harm will come no matter what happens.  It may be a little uncomfortable, but if it works we'll have a normal delivery within just a few hours.”

“It's up to you, Abby,” Cal said, and Ruthie agreed.  This was a doctor that none of them knew, although he impressed them as a man with genuine concern and a great attitude.

“This may sound crazy to you, Dr. Cory,” said Abigail, “but could I ask if you are a believer?”

“I was an altar boy at St. Anne's in Overland Park, Kansas,” he said.  “My wife and I have six children, so far.  So yes, I am a Catholic, a good one, except for being a lousy bingo player.”

“Do it,” said Abigail, moaning in pain. “Do it!”

Dr. Cory asked Abigail to climb down from the chair, stand with her back to him, and bend over at the waist.  Cal and Ruthie watched wide-eyed as he grabbed her around her abdomen and appeared to be squeezing the child out of her.  They half expected the baby to plop onto the shiny vinyl floor.  Abigail let out a short, sharp scream, then stopped suddenly.  She stood upright, the agony already disappearing from her face.

“How do you feel, Abby?” he asked.

“Like my back doesn't hurt at all anymore,” she said.  “I feel like a ton of weight has been lifted from me.  Now all I feel is a little pressure in the lower front.  I guess that's what normal labor feels like.”

Dr. Cory said she could still use the chair or get into the bed.  He told them that most women all over the world gave birth sitting upright, and that it was definitely easier.  He also told them that lying on your back had only become traditional during the Victorian era because it was more proper.  Then he laughed.

“But back then many married couples in that era lived their whole lives without ever seeing each other naked.  Either way,” Dr. Cory joked, “the doctor is going to see your stuff.  And believe me, you want me to see everything that's going on down there.  By the time delivery gets close, you will feel like you couldn't care less.”

Abigail slipped into the clean, comfortable-looking bed and raised the back so she could sit straight.  She said the bed would allow her to feel more connected to Cal and Ruthie than she did hanging four feet off the ground and tilted in the chair, seeing nothing much but the floor.

“Hand me a clean glove,” Dr. Cory called to the nurse, deciding to re-check the baby's position.

“The baby is coming in exactly the right position,” he said, “and I would say within the next few hours.  Take it easy, do your breathing, and remember that giving birth is the most natural thing on earth.”

He headed toward the door, then addressed Cal, “A nice back rub would probably feel good right about now.”

Cal stood there confused by this very unusual request.  Then the doctor read his face and laughed hysterically.  Cal didn't understand why.

“I meant you should give your wife a back rub,” he explained.  “Not me.”  The whole room joined his laughter.  Cal remained an ever-present source of humor over his unfamiliarity with so many common quirky things he didn't understand in this world.

The doctor turned again, leaving the room to attend to other duties, or perhaps just to take a break until he was needed.  Abigail decided to try lying on her side in the bed as Cal gave her a gentle back massage.  Ruthie guided her breathing and timed the contractions, since there had been no Lamaze classes available at Willow Creek Ranch.  Neither were the preparatory movies on childbirth as well, so Ruthie tried to prepare Cal for what he was going to see. 

She assured him that the blood was not the baby's or Abby's, that it was uterine blood.  And did not mean anyone was dying.  She explained that cutting the cord did not hurt the baby, but when he asked, she really did not know how that worked.  It was news to both Cal and Abigail that the baby would be born blue, and only turn pink after he breathed air for the first time.  Ruthie herself was a whole session of childbirth classes rolled into an hour.

They barely had time to cover all the lessons Ruthie was prepared to offer when the contractions changed.  They were coming with a strong desire to push.  Ruthie buzzed for the nurse and told her what was happening.  Dr. Cory rushed back, and the unpleasant nurse, who had acquired an improved demeanor, rolled in a bassinet with warming lights above.  She removed a stack of towels from one of the drawers and courteously asked Cal if he wanted to roll his stool over to watch the baby emerge or stay next to his wife's bedside supporting her while she pushed.

It was an easy decision.  Seeing a bloody, blue baby was not something that thrilled him.  He put his arm behind Abby as she sat on the edge of the bed.  She held his hand tightly and pressed against his arm as Ruthie took her position on the other side.  After about five exhausting pushes, the baby's head was out.  The nurse suctioned his mouth as the rest of him slipped out with a slithering noise that was quickly replaced by the sweet, appealing, nasal-sounding newborn cry unlike any other sound in the world.

Dr. Cory held him up into the air for a quick viewing by all, then the nurse took him and wiped him with a towel.  She placed him in his mother's arms near Cal's side as Abby lay back down for the doctor to finish up with the afterbirth and other business down there.  And he had been right, she didn't mind at all what he was seeing. 

Ruthie stood watching the two with their baby.  All were in tears as Cal kissed the baby cuddled in Abby's arms.  His little wet head was crowned with a hearty shock of black hair.  As they kissed him, and talked to him, he stopped crying.  He looked at them with wide-opened eyes, seeming much wiser than possible.  He first eyed Abby, then Cal as if he was pleased to finally be meeting his parents.  When they called him Jonah, he seemed to smile.  Even Ruthie noticed it, and later, she vouched for the truthfulness of this story.

“It was so amazing, Cal,” Abigail said.  “I feel so excited, so wonderful.  Let's have a dozen.”