Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ani
Like a football, I kept repeating to myself, mimicking the hand position Adam had just demonstrated. It’s easy. Just catch it. And the obvious corollary: Whatever you do, don’t drop it.
I hadn’t even gotten to tell Adam what an insufferable, rigid, strange dude he was. But now I had much bigger problems.
I’d never heard of anyone in a hospital actually dropping a baby during birth. Of course, I could be the first. I examined my hands. They weren’t big. Definitely not the size of Adam Lowenstein’s big paws.
What was I doing here? Why did I ever come to this in-the-sticks, out-in-the-boonies place where I needed skills I hadn’t used in years?
Calm down, Ani. You could do this. I tried to cheer myself on.
Before I applied to med school, I’d been a nurse who’d floated on various different floors for several years.
I’d seen a lot during that time, and it had made me adaptable.
I called upon that adaptability all the time, especially when confronted by difficult situations.
At the big teaching hospital where I did my med school rotations in Milwaukee, there were teams that rushed in and took care of this kind of stuff.
The OB resident on call would come running, eager to do her thing, and the laboring mom would be whisked straight up to a state-of-the-art birth suite with NICU doctors a short sprint away.
But here in Oak Bluff, the OB doctor wasn’t even in-house.
And this young woman might be delivering her baby before she even hit the sliding glass doors.
There was no use regretting this, or Adam, or any of a number of bad decisions I’d made. It was time to get a grip. I had to get ready to do my job.
As the staff scurried around me, I took some deep breaths.
You’ve done this before, Ani. A bunch of times.
I wasn’t alone. I knew I could do it. But I was the leader here.
The doctor. The person who gave orders, who performed.
And I was relatively new. I had to show the staff that I knew what I was doing.
At least until I got some backup.
BethAnn wheeled in a light and a warmer for the baby, which sort of looked, with its flat metal tray and bright warming light, like one of those food warming stations at a fancy wedding reception where someone might be preparing buttery delicious pasta in little pans or serving prime rib. More cheese, some au jus?
But I definitely wasn’t at a wedding reception, about to be served a wonderful meal. My stomach growled in protest. The sugar jolt from that lone Oreo was long past.
I positioned my hands as if I were some famous quarterback standing behind my center, waiting for him to hike the ball. I checked the instruments. Cord clamp. Sutures. All the usual ER lifesaving equipment—adult and baby-sized—just in case.
Please, God, I prayed. Help me. Help me to remember.
And then that was it.
Everything hit at once.
Two EMTs wheeled in a gurney that held a woman—I’d be tempted to call her a girl—of slight build with a mass of long, dark hair damply stuck to her forehead. She was screaming with the pain of a contraction.
And I mean screaming.
The first EMT, Ted Logan, was the guy I went to prom with.
As soon as I saw him, I began to breathe easier.
He and his twin brother Irwin worked together, and they were known by the entire ER as the Dynamic Duo.
Great guys, fun to work with, and they made their own wine, which made for great stories and occasional free bottles. But today, no time for small talk.
“Hey, Ani,” he said, launching straight into his spiel.
“Sixteen-year-old primip at term with contractions every three minutes. Water broke in the car fifteen minutes ago, and she’s crowning.
She gave her name as Jennie Jones, but she’s got no ID to confirm.
” He dropped his voice. “That’s probably not her real name.
She started to say her name was Chris or something before she realized it.
She says she’s been to the free clinic a couple of times. ”
“She’s going to go fast,” Irwin, who was also a premed student, said.
Everyone bustled around, transferring the patient to the laboring bed, BethAnn helping her put her feet in the stirrups for delivery. “Someone’s with her?” I asked. Someone this young couldn’t possibly be alone at a time like this, right?
Irwin shook his head. “She was attempting to drive herself to the hospital when her water broke.”
Alone, registered in my mind. Barely more than a child herself. Driving herself to the hospital in labor?
BethAnn did her vitals, placed a fetal heart rate monitor on her abdomen, and started to set up for an IV.
The baby’s heart was strong and fast. I blew out a tiny breath of relief. Mom and baby were okay—so far so good.
I walked to the head of the bed. “Hi, Jennie. I’m Dr. Green,” I said. “Do you want us to call anyone?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were big and brown and full of terror.
I rested my hand lightly on her forearm. “We’re going to help you through this. I’ll be here until the obstetrics doctor arriv—”
Another wail of pain, loud and raw, accompanied by writhing. Beth had stopped even considering trying to start an IV and was now holding Jennie’s hand and coaching her through.
Ivy had taken down the bottom of the bed, preparing for delivery. One look and oh my god—there was the baby’s head, covered with a mass of matted black hair, a wondrous and frightening sight. There was no turning back now. And there was no chance that the OB doc was going to get here in time.
More screams, terrifying ones. Words of comfort from BethAnn. Internal screams from me too, but outwardly, just pursed lips and lots of deep breathing.
“Jennie,” I said. At first, she didn’t look. I had to say it one more time before she faced me.
Sixteen years old, alone, no ID…definitely a fake name.
“The baby is almost here,” I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. “On the next contraction, breathe like this. Shallow. Pants. I’ll tell you when to push, okay?”
She nodded.
“Okay, girlfriend, you can do this,” BethAnn said.
I gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great.”
“It hurts, it hurts,” the girl cried. And then the final contraction was upon her. She tried to breathe shallowly, but it was impossible to stop the inevitable tidal wave of force about to propel this baby into the world.
I barely had time to put on gloves and get into position when the baby’s entire head delivered, loads of jet black, hair, a bit matted and not camera-ready yet, but so far so good.
I made the football sign Adam had made half in jest, spreading my fingers wide, supporting the head as the shoulders cleared the mom’s body and the rest of the baby propelled out into life.
The baby rotated to face up on the way out.
After a quick check—“It’s a girl,” I said, my voice quivering.
Because…it was a sweet baby girl. A miracle.
A brand new…person. Her eyes were shut, little fists clenched tight to her chest. She was a rump-roast size, perfectly formed, a mass of black hair, rosebud lips.
A beautiful thing. Reddish-purple, coated with some slippery stuff—hey, not an Insta moment… yet.
I curled my hand around her shoulder, the other under her neck and basically just caught her as she came up and out, keeping my grasp firm.
Like riding a bike. I’d remembered how to do it. Yay, me.
As BethAnn suctioned her nose with a bulb syringe, she took her first breath and exhaled with a zesty cry.
Another yay. Thanks, God.
The tiny little thing gave another big wail. And then another, each gasp making her pink up as her lungs filled with air and her heart carried the oxygenated blood through her body for the first time.
Welcome to life, sweetheart.
“Hello, little one,” I said to the determined little bundle. I peeked my head around the drape. “You have a baby daughter. And she’s just beautiful.”
That was when I saw that I wasn’t alone.
Adam was standing beside me, gloved and gowned, ready to assist. He’d come in quietly; I had no idea when.
I caught his eye, but I had no idea what he was thinking, as usual.
Was he checking on me, making sure I was competent, or had he come for support? I hoped the latter.
My heart was racing a little, but it was from all the adrenaline, not because of his nearness.
“Nice job, Dr. Green,” he said. The lines around his eyes crinkled, and his lips turned up in a smile.
I smiled back, knowing that he hadn’t come in to check on my skills. He’d been there in case I’d need him. Exactly like he was in Turks and Caicos.
That made my heart squeeze a little.
“You need anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m good.” Yes, I wanted to say. I just really want that guy I met last summer. Can you please bring him back?
The baby was really getting the hang of crying now, each intake of breath pinking her up to a wonderful, living color. BethAnn cut and clamped the cord, wrapped her quickly in a blanket, then held her up.
For one brief second, I looked into the baby’s eyes. Blinking, blinded by our lights, confused, helpless. And so beautiful.
I accepted the bundle and brought her to the head of the bed. “Here she is,” I said, on the verge of tears. “She’s perfect.”
Jennie was silently crying, no doubt overwhelmed. She looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s all right?”
“Wonderful,” I confirmed. Even her little head was perfectly shaped—the delivery was so quick, there wasn’t even any flattening of her skull bones through the birth canal.
We only had a moment; the nurses were ready at the warming table to examine the baby, clean her up, and do her APGAR scores.
Jennie’s gaze flickered from me to the baby and back. She was still crying. “Can I hold her?”
BethAnn gave me a nod. I handed her over.