Chapter 24
SEE ONE, DO ONE, TEACH ONE
See one, do one, teach one, in medicine means that first you see a procedure, then you’re expected to do one, and then you’re qualified to teach one.
But does it apply to love? Can you see love, then experience love, then teach the other one how to tell you they love you back?
THANATOS
Esther’s screams rip through the wintry air, and my legs pump as fast as I can to the ambulance bay, racing from my car through the flurries to reach her.
The OB/GYN chief is already there, and I flash the badge I grabbed last minute at the paramedics, who look to Sarah for approval, accept her nod, and return to checking on Esther.
“Percy!” Esther cries, sounding relieved.
“I’m here,” I tell her, shivering in my pajamas, while Esther’s bottom half is exposed to the encroaching fog, waiting for the baby to arrive.
“Shouldn’t we be taking her inside?” I ask Sarah.
I hop into the ambulance, and Esther grabs my hand, squeezing her clammy fingers around mine.
“Waiting room’s full,” Sarah says. “Fuckass hospital has patients in there waiting 36+ hours for a room. I called the O.R., and they’re preparing a room for the worst-case scenario. Esther said she’d rather wait out here for Liam.”
“It’s too late for the epidural,” Esther gasps between contractions, “Besides, I’m nine centimeters now. I’d rather sit here than shove out a baby in some hallway.”
Another wave of contractions hits, and she screams again, gripping my hand so tightly my bones might snap.
No biggie, I tell myself, wincing the arm she can’t see. She needs me right now.
I rub her shoulder instead. “I’m here.”
Beside me, Nurse Florence is wheeling a table over the rickety, salted sidewalk, setting up the sterile field. “What glove size are you, Percy?”
Sarah looks at Esther. “Do you want Percy partic—”
“Yes,” Esther says, “she can do it. I trust her.”
“6 and a half,” I tell Florence, who lays out my gloves.
Behind her, I see the NICU nurses and pediatric residents pull up the baby incubator. They’ve all got their eyes on me, preparing a spot in the plastic crib for the baby.
I can’t believe I got here right in time. Although I feel horrible Liam is still driving.
“Talk me through your plan, Percy,” Sarah orders. “It’ll happen any second now.”
I pull on my gloves while I check her vitals. “Well, her BP looks good. Contractions are even and stable. The baby’s heart rate is exactly where it should be. The second anything changes, we start wheeling her to the O.R.”
“Good,” she says. “Esther, how are you feeling?”
Her next contraction hits, and Esther shrieks.
I leap back into the ambulance, looking for the head.
Her screams crescendo, making me worried she’s hit the turning point, the ring of fire before the final push.
“Doing great, Esther!” I yell, adrenaline spiking when a head pokes out. “I see hair!”
I got here just in time.
She’s delivering fast. The babies must be small.
“Do you!” she yells, voice warbling.
“Yes! Just keep pushing!”
My hands cradle out, preparing a web to catch the baby’s head. I catch the slippery baby in the next push, twisting just slightly so that the shoulder doesn’t get stuck, and then the body sloshes out.
Careful of the cord, I gently prop her up for Esther to see. “It’s a girl!”
In the next second, the baby’s cries pierce the air, and Esther sobs out a relieved “finally!”
Florence steps up to her side, wrapping the baby in a warm blanket and holding it to Esther’s chest for skin-to-skin.
Esther coos to her daughter while I crouch down, preparing for the next.
The second baby arrives quickly in the same contraction, and I catch her sister while Sarah hovers, making sure everything goes smoothly.
“Happy birthday, little one,” I murmur, bringing her up to Esther’s face so she can see.
Big sister screams in harmony with little sister, and the entire bay lets out a collective sigh of relief.
Sarah takes the baby from me while I move to check on Esther.
“How are they doing?” she asks.
“Two babies, 20 fingers, 20 toes,” Sarah says, wrapping the youngest and moving it next to the eldest.
“Esther!”
Liam’s frantic cry is so loud it carries over the parking lot, tripping and tumbling over the slush. He’s running in his hospital scrubs through the fog, a frantic shadow sinking into the snow with each step. Poor guy.
Sarah trades places with a pediatrics resident as Liam breaks through, letting the pediatrician watch the baby, and grabs the umbilical cord scissors.
The placenta comes out as Liam catches up, and I move it to the pathology table, out of the way. It’s intact, with no pieces missing, meaning that nothing is left attached or stuck inside.
My heart warms. Thank God. No C-section necessary.
“Esther!” Liam cries again.
Liam and Esther sob when he hops in.
It’s heartwarming, even in this frigid air, to see love in action. The residual hormones have Esther’s legs shaking, but with Liam, her face softens as she looks at their children in awe.
I finally let my thoughts slip, tension melting off my shoulders.
I just did my first twin delivery. Ever!
And they were Esther’s!
I let out a little laugh.
Four years ago, I didn’t know if I would get into medical school…
And now I can deliver my friend’s babies!
I rock back on my heels, unbearably happy.
The adrenaline makes my nerves buzz, sparking like they’re powered by new mom joy.
This is my why.
Why I work so hard. Why I push to be the best. Why I think women’s health is so extraordinary.
Helping families. Delivering babies. It’s a shame that Kane’s surgical specialty would never let him see this—
The thought of him nearly topples me, and I banish all thoughts of him from my mind, forcing myself to live in the moment.
Liam cuts the umbilical cord.
Both babies cry harder, and I use my hoodie sleeve to wipe the dampness from my lashes.
They should be okay, I hope, as medical innovations for preemies are at an all-time high. The babies’ APGAR scores are high, and the NICU team is already telling Esther and Liam how they plan to transition care to the nursery.
The kids are fighters, just like their mother.
“Good work,” Sarah says, and I step aside to let the nurses take over.
This entire night feels surreal. First Med Prom, then Kane, then David, then this.
I step back into the chilly fog, collapsing onto the curb, debating whether or not I should try to go home.
3 A.M., my watch says.
Decision hour.
Above me, Liam smooths back Esther’s hair, Esther beams at her babies, and the daughters coo at their parents in such a vivid, touching harmony; it makes me forget I’m sitting in a pile of salt, far from home and further from what I want.
I rub my freezing hands together, watching my breath puff out in spurts. My head’s aching in the aftermath, throbbing with the memories of everything that’s happened.
No, I don’t want to go home, even if I’m not needed anymore.
Especially when he might still be there.
I reach for my phone, but my pocket’s empty, phone abandoned at my apartment. I stare up instead, watching the moon glow bright above.
Damn.
Kane would love this. The moon, he once told me, is the second-best thing to the sun.
And I want to capture a piece of it and bring it to him.
It’s a unique kind of torment to be imprisoned between two equally important and opposite worlds.
Being a doctor is what I live for, but being his friend is what I ache for.
More than his friend, actually.
And I think I’m allowed to want things outside of medicine. After all, if I didn’t judge the two doctors in front of me, how could I judge myself?
It’s time to fight myself hard enough to tell Kane what really matters to me instead of running from it.
I’m seeing two future doctors make it work right here. We can do it. I’ll teach him how.
After all, I taught him how to be lovable, didn’t I?
See one, do one, teach one.
But first—
I can’t love him if I don’t love someone more important first.
Twisting my wrist, I press the app I need, and she picks up on the first ring.
I deserve my happy ending, too.
“Jade,” I say, bracing myself, “I need you to help me.”