Chapter 9 #2
“But what brings you? I…” Nora hesitated. Gratitude seemed a poor excuse for this surprise visit, which could only be counted as a significant honor.
“I’m afraid I want your help,” Lady Woodbine said. “And it’s a bit of a crisis, so I came myself, hoping I could carry you away with me.” She paused, and Nora noted the anxious bobbing of her throat.
“It’s my cousin. She’s expecting, but it’s still six or seven weeks before her time.
She started having pains last night. We sent for her doctor, but he’s been called away to see his sister.
If you know any way to halt her pains…” Lady Woodbine licked her lips.
“I would hate for her to lose this child,” she whispered.
Nora glanced at Ruth. Many women had false contractions. Hopefully… “Of course I’ll come,” Nora said. “Ruth, are you—”
The midwife nodded. “I can help, if you want me.”
“I do,” Nora said firmly. “But I understand if you are called away.” She turned to Lady Woodbine. “This is Mrs. Franklin. A very skilled midwife. We’ll come at once.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gibson.” Lady Woodbine’s whole body—face, shoulders, hands—softened with relief. Her tension had been well hidden by her manners and fancy trappings, but it was plain now. “My carriage is waiting outside.”
***
The house was an imposing one, at the end of a row shaded by plane trees, but there was no time to admire the facade or the architectural symmetry of the street.
Nora pushed her shoulders back, alighting from the carriage and mounting the steps in long strides that would have done credit to any hurdler.
Ruth followed, toting Nora’s bag since Nora was carrying her medicine box in one hand and the vaporizer in the other.
“This way.” Lady Woodbine ushered them through the hall and up the carpeted stairs, a housekeeper and two maids falling in behind her.
Ruth glanced at Nora and raised her eyebrows. Though she’d helped many women, Nora realized Ruth might not have attended any in a home like this.
“I’ll leave you here.” Lady Woodbine stopped just outside a stately double door in the upstairs corridor. “Green, the housekeeper, can provide anything you need. My cousin, Mrs. Roland, has her maid, Gladys, with her, and she’ll help answer any questions.”
As Nora hastened forward, Lady Woodbine touched her arm. “Please.” She blinked twice. “Do what you can.”
“Of course. We’ll take a look, and that should tell me what we’re up against.”
“I’ll be just across the hall.”
Lady Woodbine retreated, and Nora followed Ruth inside. “Mrs. Roland? Your cousin fetched me. I’m Dr. Gibson, and Mrs. Franklin and I are here to help.”
Mrs. Roland didn’t seem to hear. She grimaced—one eye closed, her face a mask of concentration—and held up a hand, signaling Nora to wait.
“She’s having another pain,” the maid, Gladys, explained unnecessarily.
“When was the last?”
Gladys gave her a blank look. Nora set down her burdens and hurried to the bed.
She couldn’t see anything of Mrs. Roland’s body.
Everything but her face and hands was concealed beneath a billowing, ruffled nightdress clinging to her in damp patches.
Her hair, too, stuck to her neck and forehead.
“I need to feel your belly,” Nora said, but as she placed her palms, Mrs. Roland squirmed miserably.
“The pains are getting stronger. My back never hurt like this before,” she said.
“You have other babes, then?” Ruth asked.
Mrs. Roland panted, her face screwing up in concentration. “Two.”
Nora eyed her patient, not her watch. But even so, false contractions didn’t last this long. None of her medicines would stop this.
“How long have you had the pains?”
“They only grew stronger this last hour. I hoped they were phantom pains, because it’s too early. And my waters haven’t come away, so—”
Ruth picked up Mrs. Roland’s hand. “Don’t fret yourself. You just need to rest and let Dr. Gibson have a look at you.”
Mrs. Roland settled back on the pillows, and Nora quickly ran her hands over her patient’s distended belly, feeling for the top of her uterus.
Not yet, not yet—there. She glanced at Ruth. “Too high.” She frowned. “Mrs. Roland, your cousin told me you are only seven months along.”
She nodded. “Yes, that was when I last bled, and—”
Nora leaned closer. “But Dr. Adams has examined you?”
“Yes, he calls every week, pays particular attention to my sleep and my diet.” Her face twisted, and her hand clutched tightly around Ruth’s, provoking a wince.
Ruth didn’t draw back. “Squeeze my fingers. It’ll pass.”
But Mrs. Roland was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, writhing against the sheets.
“You don’t need to be quiet, love,” Ruth said, and Mrs. Roland let out a piteous gasp.
“Everything’s wrong. I feel all wrong.” Her voice rose, high and panicked.
“Not everything,” Nora said wryly, but only Ruth could hear. “Check her fundus…I mean, the height of her womb.”
The contraction passed, and Ruth’s hands traced the same path Nora’s had, her eyes widening.
“Seven months?” She snorted. “This babe’s full grown.”
“When you bled last, was it the same? The usual amount of blood, the same number of days?” Nora asked.
Mrs. Roland looked at her helplessly, her breaths still coming fast.
“No,” Gladys filled in. “The bleeding was milder, both times.”
Nora nodded. She was confident in her assessment, but just in case… “When Dr. Adams came, did he touch you? Inside or on your belly?”
Gladys looked horrified and vigorously shook her head. “That wasn’t needed. He listened for the babe’s heart, but there was no reason to put his hands on her.”
Ruth barked a laugh. “No reason?” But she stopped, intercepting Nora’s look.
“I didn’t wish it,” Mrs. Roland confirmed. “So uncomfortable.” She was too red and sweaty to blush, but shifted uneasily against the sheet.
“Well, there are certain things we can verify by feeling your middle,” Nora said gently. “Such as how far along you are.”
She rested the edge of her hand at the top of the uterus. “So unless you’re carrying twins, I’d say this baby is coming right on time. You are just the right size to be nine months along.”
“Sometimes there’s still some bleeding early on,” Ruth added. “Doesn’t mean your child isn’t there, growing.”
Mrs. Roland licked her lips. “Then—”
Gladys intervened, pressing a glass of wine to Mrs. Roland’s lips. “You’re thirsty, ma’am. Wet your throat first.”
She complied, downing two quick sips. “You’re saying my baby’s ready? I don’t need to stop it?”
“You couldn’t even if you tried,” Ruth said.
“And we’re going to help you,” Nora said. “This is the right time.”
While Gladys ran to share the good news with Lady Woodbine and alert the household, Nora used the intervals between contractions to complete her exam.
“How many fingers?” Mrs. Franklin asked Nora.
“Five or six. She’s very elastic. Hard to say.”
Mrs. Roland’s nose flickered, and then she squeezed her eyes closed, the muscles in her neck tightening. After a long minute, she breathed again. “That was the worst one. Lord, my back is going to break.” She raised a hand to her mouth, the color draining from her face.
Ruth moved to her side with the chamber pot just as she vomited.
“It’s the exam,” Ruth explained, moments later, as she sponged Mrs. Roland’s face. “Some women’s bodies react more to being touched during labor.”
Mrs. Roland whimpered and collapsed back onto her pillow, eyes half-closed in the misery of nausea and blinding pain. “I can’t do it,” she said, starting to cry. “Even if the baby’s ready.”
“We can help you feel better,” Nora said, straightening and smoothing her apron. A low dose of ether might slow the birth, but Mrs. Roland was in such distress… She glanced across the room to where she’d left the vaporizer.
“Nonsense.” Ruth leaned close, pressing the cold cloth to Mrs. Roland’s chest. “You’re doing as splendid as I’ve ever seen a woman do in twenty-five years.”
Mrs. Roland groaned as another contraction racked her muscles and bones. “My back,” she gasped.
“Roll to your side and we’ll help with that,” Ruth said, already coaxing her onto her left side and pressing her hands into the curve of Mrs. Roland’s lumbar region.
“It hurts,” the woman wailed, her voice half-smothered by her pillow.
The familiar smell of peppermint reached Nora’s nose. She hastened to the bed and picked up the cloth that had fallen aside, placing it on the back of Mrs. Roland’s neck.
“Peppermint water for summer births,” Ruth said quietly. “It cools the skin and helps with the nausea. Just avoid the eyes.”
Nora hadn’t noticed Ruth getting the solution ready—but then, she’d been preoccupied with the exam.
And along with the lumbar pressure, it seemed to be helping.
After several violent contractions, Nora checked again but the cervix and baby’s position hadn’t changed at all. Nor had they an hour later.
“She’s not progressing,” Nora whispered to Ruth, wiping sweat from her own hairline. “The head is low enough to reach with forceps, but her cervix isn’t fully open yet—”
“She’s been on her side too long,” Ruth said with a frown. “We need to help her stand.”
Nora frowned doubtfully. Mrs. Roland was exhausted. “In her state? Why would she stand?”
“Because her waters haven’t ruptured yet. But if she stands, they will.”
Nora shook her head. “I’d rather use the ether. When she’s able to relax—”
Ruth squared her chin. “I think she’s nearly there. Just a few more minutes. Let me try.”
Behind them, Mrs. Roland cried out again.
“Just a few more minutes,” Nora conceded. She was fast with the vaporizer, but it would take time to warm the water and the ether to the right temperature. If Ruth was right, and they managed to help Mrs. Roland’s waters rupture, it might be worth it.
“It’ll work, you’ll see,” Ruth said, and quickly slipped her arms around Mrs. Roland. “All right, love. We’re going to get you up. Baby can’t come with you on your side.”
Mrs. Roland shook her head. “My back.”