The Secrets of Midwives (21 page)

“Nothing, Floss. I don't want you to do anything.” Her eyes closed. “She's gone.”

 

19

Neva

I was awake most of the night. After Patrick drifted off to sleep, I wondered about what he'd said. Was it possible that the father could swoop in and demand fatherly rights? I'd said no definitively when Patrick asked, but … if he were to find out … perhaps that was exactly what he'd do? Perhaps
that
was the reason I was keeping this secret? If so, my secret, like a rolling snowball, now had the power to hurt Patrick too.

When I arrived at the birthing center the next morning, Anne took one look at me and ordered me into one of the birthing suites for a nap. No one was in labor and she wanted to make sure I was rested enough to do a delivery if someone did come in. Usually I would have protested, but not today. The appeal of catching a few winks was too hard to resist.

When I woke, the sun was high in the sky. A chorus of highpitched giggles rang in the hallway and then the door opened and Patrick appeared beside the bed. He kissed my mouth. “Good morning, princess.”

“Don't let the princesses in the hallway hear you call me that.”

“Ah, but you're the crown princess.” He kissed my nose. “Can I get in?”

I ignored the stirring in my loins that screamed yes, Yes, YES, and instead arranged my features in what I hoped was a skeptical expression. “Are you a mother in labor?”

“You guys get into bed with the clients? How unprofessional. Not to mention unhygienic.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I have a joke.”

“Hit me.”

“What's the difference between a pregnant woman and a model? Nothing, if the pregnant woman's boyfriend knows what's good for him.”

Patrick smiled softly. “But you're more beautiful than a model, pregnant or not.”

I couldn't help but laugh. Hopeless charmer.

“So … is this where we're going to have this baby, then?” Patrick swaggered over to the chair and picked up a pillow, inspecting it playfully.

“Not necessarily this room, but yes. I like it here.”

“Me too.” Patrick nodded. “Oh, I almost forgot! I had a phone call from the Board of Nursing this morning. About your mother.”

“You did?” With everything else going on I'd forgotten about the investigation. “What did you say?”

“I told her what happened. That the baby and the mother were never in any danger and that Gillian was in as good hands with your mother as she would have been with any ob-gyn.”

“You said that?”

“It's true. Hopefully that will be the end of it. What a waste of taxpayers' money, investigating someone like your mother when there are all sorts of cowboys around claiming to be medical professionals.”

His face was completely earnest. It occurred to me that he was exactly the kind of person I wanted to spend my life with. “You are a good guy, you know that?”

“Don't tell anyone. Speaking of your mom, is she going to deliver the baby?”

I snorted. “What do you think?”

“Then who
is
?” He sprawled onto the bed on his stomach and rested his chin in his hands. “I guess I should know this.”

“Susan,” I said.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be there?”

I hesitated. I'd assumed it was a given that Patrick would be there. It hadn't occurred to me to even ask. “Oh, um … well it'd be good to have a pediatrician in the room. And people will expect it. You being the father and all.” I watched for a reaction, but Patrick remained infuriatingly blank. “Do you
want
to be there?”

He crossed his arms, making a great show of thinking it over. “I think I would, yes. I can hand you ice chips and mop your forehead, that sort of thing.”

I suppressed a smile. “Good, then.”

Patrick rolled onto his side, his hand skimming the length of my belly, back and forth. He frowned, then pressed down sharply just above my pubic bone.

“Um, ow!” I half laughed, half gasped. “What are you doing?”

Patrick ignored me, feeling along the curve of my stomach, pressing down now on the highest part of the mound. “Did you know the baby was breech?”

“It's not.” I smacked his hand playfully and replaced it with my own, feeling what he had felt. I located the head and pressed down. “See. The head.”

“Hey—I'm not an ob-gyn, but from the lie, I'd say it was back here, legs here, head here”—he pointed to the pelvis—“breech here.”

“Um, I think I would have noticed if my baby was breech.” I lay flat and felt my stomach properly. Back, legs, head … bottom … I paused, felt again.

Patrick winced. “Told you.”

I felt again. He was right. Right down at the bottom of my pelvis were the soft edges of the buttocks.

“It could still turn,” he said.

“Maybe, but…” I felt it a third time. “It's unlikely at this stage. Guess I won't be delivering at the birthing center after all.”

I tried to roll into a sitting position, but got only halfway up before I started to fall back onto the bed. Patrick gave me a push. “Hey. You okay?”

“Not much I can do about it, is there? I guess I'll need a C-section.” I shimmied to my feet.

“We don't know that for sure.” Patrick also stood. “Why don't we go see Sean, see what he says?”

“No. It's fine. A C-section is fine.”

“Seriously? You're so dedicated to natural birthing—”

“Are you trying to upset me?” I smiled.

Patrick continued to frown. “Why don't I take you home? You must be tired.”

“Thanks, but I'm on until five
P.M
. And since I've slept most of the morning, I'd better get busy.”

“There's no one in labor.”

“We do other things besides deliver babies, Patrick.” Again, I smiled to show I was being lighthearted. I didn't want Patrick worrying about me. He was doing enough. “I've got postnatal rounds. You go. It's your day off.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure. I'll see you later.”

Patrick leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Later.” He ducked and planted a kiss on my stomach. “See you later too.”

I smiled until he was out of the room, and for a good minute after he left. But once I was sure he was definitely gone, I sank back onto the bed.

My baby was breech.

All the images I'd had of myself pacing the floor, sitting on a birthing ball, lying in the tub, panting and pushing my baby out—it juxtaposed starkly against the image of lying flat on my back, having my baby extracted from me like a tumor. All the women I'd seen turned into warriors before my eyes—it would never be me.

It didn't escape my consciousness that I was being a hypocrite. All those women I'd reassured on the operating table that the magic of motherhood had nothing to do with how the baby came out? At the time, I'd believed that was true. In theory, I still believed it. But now that I was charged with the same outcome myself, I felt a little cheated.

Abruptly, I stood. I slipped into my shoes and told Anne to call me if anyone came in. Then I hurried toward the hospital maternity ward. Sean was at the nurses' station, leaning over the desk and telling a joke or story that, judging from the stifled laughs from other staff, was either inappropriate or about one of the patients. Marion stood nearby, her lips pursed. Her frustration at not being able to get into Sean's inner circle had clearly morphed into intense dislike. I'd seen it happen before, with other doctors, but I doubted Sean would care. I waited until the punch line had been delivered, then tapped Sean's shoulder.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure thing.” Sean was unnaturally cheery. “What's up?”

I was about to ask him the same thing when I noticed his wife, Laura, standing beside him.

“Oh, Laura. Hi.” I swallowed.

“Hi, there. Neva, right?”

Neva. She knew my name.

I nodded. “How are you doing?”

“I'm pretty great, thanks for asking.”

She looked pretty great too, considering. Her hair was a couple of inches long and done in a messy pixie style. She wore a full face of over-the-top makeup, which included blue eye shadow that somehow, really worked on her. “We've just been to see the doc.”

“Is everything—?”

“Wonderful!” she said. “The tumor is barely visible, can you believe it?”

I couldn't believe it. “You must be ecstatic. Are you going out to celebrate?”

“No, headed home like a boring married couple,” Laura said, but the way she smiled at Sean made them seem more like loved-up teenagers. “Did you need Sean?”

“It can wait.”

“No, no.” She grabbed Sean by the elbow and shoved him toward me. “Please. Talk.”

I swallowed the enormous lump in my throat. No wonder she'd been the one to turn Sean from a womanizer into a one-woman man.

“I'll wait downstairs,” she said to Sean. “And I'll see you soon, Neva.”

“Thanks, Laura. And, um, great news.”

Laura wandered down the hallway breezily. After her appointment, it seemed, she didn't have a care in the world. Sean and I waited until the elevator doors closed and she disappeared from sight.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I just wanted to run something by you.”

We stepped into an alcove. Sean's face was apprehensive. I hadn't spoken to him properly since he found out I was pregnant. I suppose I couldn't really blame him for being nervous. I decided to cut to the chase.

“My baby is breech.”

He managed to look relieved and concerned at the same time. “Oh, Nev. I'm sorry.”

“So I guess that means you don't know of any new and hugely effective procedures to turn babies this late in pregnancy?” I forced a laugh.

“I wish.” He looked genuinely sad for me. “You can always try, but—” He touched the top of my belly and pressed down. “—I don't like your chances.”

“And I don't suppose you know anyone who would deliver a breech baby vaginally?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Surely you wouldn't want to try?”

“No, I guess not.” I sighed, deflated.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You and Patrick all ready for the baby?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

We both shuffled a little.

“It's funny,” Sean said. “Patrick never mentioned that you two were seeing each other. Back then, I mean.”

I tried to look Sean in the eye, but he evaded my stare. “Does Patrick tell you everything?” I asked.

“No.” His gaze shifted to my belly. I didn't breathe. “So you're definitely sure about your dates, then?”

“Yes. Definitely—”

Before I could register what was happening, I was in Sean's arms. He squeezed me, too tight, one arm around my waist, the other pressing my head to his chest. I smiled at his obvious relief and allowed him to hold me briefly. When he started to loosen his grip, I stepped away.

“That's great. It's … really exciting for you and Patrick. You'll make great parents. I always knew he was in love with you.”

“You …
did
?”

“I have eyes. Most people thought you were in love with him too.” He laughed. “Obviously they were right. Anyway, it's great that you guys have finally got it together.”

I felt my cheeks warm. Was it possible that Patrick and I had both been into each other all this time? How had I not seen it? Particularly when
Sean
had?

“Well, I'd better run,” he said. “Laura's waiting.”

“Go, go,” I said. I gave him a push, then followed him out of the alcove. Marion stood nearby, watching Sean hurry toward the elevator, then her eyes snapped back to me. It might have been my imagination—or perhaps the fact that I'd had very little sleep—but I could have sworn she was giving me a dirty look.

 

20

Grace

I'd delivered four babies since my license was suspended. Robert knew nothing of it. Each mother had been given the facts, and each of them decided to take her chances with me as their midwife. Three out of the four had even paid me.

I'd managed to explain my absences to Robert with tales of early morning yoga and helping take care of Mom, but as it happened, he wasn't asking many questions anyway. He'd been working long hours and when he was at home, he was distracted. I didn't blame him. He'd been carrying the burden of our family's financial pressure alone for months. Not anymore. All my payments had been collected in cash and were stashed in my office in a large yellow envelope. With the tax that I'd saved, it'd be enough to make our first few mortgage payments, if it came to that.

Tonight Robert was his usual reticent self. He sat next to me on the couch, staring at sitcom after mindless sitcom. When I couldn't stand the silence anymore, I said, “How are things at work, Rob?”

He blinked as though he'd been asleep or forgotten I was there. Then he did that long sigh-through-the-nose thing. “Oh … you know. Could be better.”

“I'm here if you want to talk.”

He smiled. It reminded me that it had been a while since I'd seen that smile. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow, what?”

“Wow … that's very non-Grace of you. In a good way. It actually sounds like something Floss would say.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “What would
I
say?”

Robert curled his hands around an invisible neck in front of him. “What is going on with you? I demand you tell me this instant or I will snoop through your phone and wallet, looking for clues!” He adopted an affected, womanly voice that most certainly did not sound like me.

“Oh, yeah? Well, how about you?” I slumped back on the couch and stared at the television. I made my voice deep and bored-sounding. “Work's really intense.” I grunted. “You wouldn't understand.”