LITMIR.BIZ

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judgment for a few more minutes, Lydia considered Steve’s worried face. These days, almost all of Lydia’s client’s husbands or partners chose to be present during the birthing experience—sometimes with siblings and other family members, too. Six years ago, Steve had been one of those keen father-to-be’s. But in the last, difficult hour of Sammy’s delivery, when Mary had been alternately crying and whimpering, he had left the room.

      Lydia knew he’d been disappointed later, and so had Mary. This time Steve was determined to stick it out—for Mary and for himself. But he already appeared a little woozy.

      “This is it!” Mary reached for Lydia’s hand as her body surged in one more powerful contraction. “Oh my God, the baby’s coming!”

      But twenty minutes later, the baby still hadn’t descended very much. Lydia checked the time. Almost seven in the evening. More than five hours had passed since the Davidsons had arrived with Mary already in established labor. Lydia didn’t know what was wrong. Mary’s contractions certainly palpitated strong enough. Baby’s heart rate was stable. There was no apparent reason to be concerned and yet Lydia’s sixth sense warned that all was not well.

      “Something doesn’t feel right,” she said quietly to Gina.

      “Taking a little longer than we expected.”

      Yes. But why? Lydia looked at the tiny woman who was now back on the bed, exhausted, disheartened. The disparity in size between Mary and her large-framed husband had caused Lydia concern when she’d first met the couple six years ago. But Mary had a proven pelvis. Sammy had weighed in at just over eight pounds.

      However, this second child was bigger than the first. Perhaps even bigger than Lydia had estimated.

      She made up her mind. “I’m moving them to the hospital.”

      After a second Gina nodded. “Maybe that’s wise.”

      “I’ve got the air mattress in the back of my van. Drive it right up to the back door, would you? My keys are in the top drawer of my desk. I’ll talk to the Davidsons.”

      “Is there a problem?” Steve had noticed the two midwives conferring quietly.

      “Probably not.” Lydia smiled at him, then his wife. “You’re doing wonderfully, Mary, and your baby is a real champ, too. But this delivery is taking longer than I expected, and I always play it safe in situations like this. I want to move you to the hospital.”

      Arroyo County Hospital was just minutes away. Nevertheless, delivery in a bright, modern, bustling hospital was not what the Davidsons had wanted. It wasn’t what Lydia wanted for them, either, but she could not take any chances.

      “I don’t want— Ohhh…” Another contraction hit Mary, sweeping away her objection. Lydia calmly coached her through the pain. When it was over, Lydia performed a quick reexamination to see if the baby’s head had dropped. Unfortunately, no progress had been made.

      “I’m sorry, Mary, but we have to move you. I know it’s going to be uncomfortable, but Gina will ride with you in the back of my van. Steve, do you want to sit up front with me?”

      “I’ll drive my own vehicle,” he decided, his voice taut with anxiety.

      “Fine. We’ll meet you there. And don’t worry. Dr. Ochoa is on duty tonight. He’ll take good care of Mary.”

      DR. OCHOA, AN OBSTETRICIAN at the Arroyo County Hospital, met them in the delivery room. Lydia referred all her high-risk patients to Dr. Ochoa and had unfaltering admiration for the man. His reciprocal respect explained their professional association for over twenty years.

      “What’s the problem?” he asked, snapping on a new pair of gloves.

      Already positioned on the delivery table, pale, exhausted Mary had no energy to speak. Steve, as well, was quiet and tense. Lydia hoped he wasn’t going to faint. Gina obviously had the same concern. She was at his side, watching him carefully.

      Quickly Lydia filled the doctor in on the patient’s case history. “Mary’s been at ten centimeters for almost two hours now. The baby still hasn’t descended.”

      The doctor nodded. “Well, let’s take a look. Maybe something happened on the drive over.” He ambled to the delivery bed. “Hello, Mary, Steve. I’m Dr. Ochoa. How are you doing?”

      After a quick examination he noted that the baby was now in position. “But—” he gave Lydia a smile of approval “—I’m glad you brought her in. It’s always better to err on the side of caution.” He turned back to the anxious parents-to-be. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

      Lydia noticed Steve’s shoulders relax a fraction. Did he feel better now that a real doctor was in charge? Mary, however, seemed stressed. Lydia took her hand.

      Mary’s anxious gaze sought hers. “Will you stay until my baby’s born?”

      “I will.”

      “You won’t leave me?”

      “No.” She patted Mary’s shoulder then glanced at the doctor, who nodded in acceptance.

      “And my baby’s still okay?”

      A nurse had hooked Mary up to an external fetal monitor now and had started an IV, as well. Lydia had only to glance at the machine to see the same fetal heart rate they’d tracked on the Doppler at The Birth Place.

      “Your baby is fine, Mary.” She smiled across the room at Steve, who was leaning against a wall. “And you’re doing great, too, Dad.” Steve mustered a small smile in reply.

      “Here comes another…” Mary pushed as best she could through the force of the contraction. With legs open and feet resting on the birthing bars, she sat at a fifty-five degree angle, grabbing her thighs.

      “Oh-oh-oh…”

      “Good work, sweetheart.” Steve spoke in an attempt to be reassuring. He couldn’t watch anymore, poor man. Lydia was about to suggest he take a breather, when suddenly the baby was crowning.

      “The baby’s coming, Mary!” the doctor said.

      The next contraction came only seconds after the previous. “Keep pushing, Mary,” Lydia urged.

      Valiantly Mary bore down and the baby’s head delivered—large, pink and topped with matted black hair. Oh, he’s beautiful, but Lydia no sooner had that thought than the head receded partway into the birth canal.

      She glanced sharply at the doctor, who frowned in return.

      “One more time, Mary,” he instructed.

      The next contraction should have done it. Mary’s face contorted with the effort of pushing. But nothing happened.

      Fear, sharp and cold, froze Lydia. Something was terribly wrong here. The baby’s shoulders were trapped within the pelvis.

      “Heart rate is one hundred,” the nurse reported. She put in a call for more help and a second nurse arrived a moment later.

      Come on! Come on! Lydia chanted silently as another contraction proved as ineffective as the one before. Lydia slid in next to the doctor.

      “Shoulder dystocia?”

      Dr. Ochoa nodded.

      Lydia had dealt with this complication before and delivered healthy babies every time. Still, she was very relieved that she’d made the decision to transfer the birth to the hospital.

      “Why isn’t the baby coming?” Steve asked. “Is this normal?”

      Far from it. In this position, the baby’s supply of oxygen was compromised. Every second counted. But Lydia was trained to project calm, even in moments of crisis. “We’re trying, Steve.”

      “Let’s reposition the mother.” Dr. Ochoa’s tone was becoming more curt by the moment. Lydia did her best to reassure Mary as the bed was lowered to a

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