Chapter 30 #2
Ford worked quickly but carefully. Another contraction rippled through the patient’s body. When she moaned, the scalpel paused in Ford’s hand.
The woman gasped suddenly, her back arching against the bed. “Oh God.”
Ford froze. “Did you feel that?”
Her fingers gripped the sheets. “Yes!”
Ford’s stomach dropped. He looked toward the phone. “Flynn, she can feel it.”
Flynn’s voice stayed calm. “That’s a contraction, Cox.”
Ford blinked. “She’s not supposed to feel anything.”
“She won’t feel the incision,” Flynn explained, “but the uterus is still contracting.”
Eira’s voice assured him, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Ford.”
The woman cried out again as another wave tightened across her abdomen.
Ford leaned closer to her. “Listen to me,” he said gently. “Your body’s still trying to deliver the baby. That’s normal.”
Her breathing shook. “Am I going to die?”
“No,” Ford said firmly. “You’re going to have your baby in about sixty seconds.” Lightning flashed outside the window.
“Open the uterus,” Flynn said.
Ford made the next incision. Warm fluid spilled into the tray. A second nurse blotted the bleeding and suctioned the fluid.
Flynn continued calmly, “You should see the legs.”
Ford leaned closer. “I’ve got them. Baby’s doing a split.”
“Guide one leg up. Then guide the baby out slowly.”
Ford slid his hands carefully inside. Aurelia caught the suction tubing as fluid spilled onto the tray.
“Breathe, Cox,” Flynn said through the phone. “Keep going.”
Ford lifted gently. The small body rotated in his hands. The shoulders slipped free. For one brief moment, he thought they had it, but the baby stopped moving. The neck was visible, but the head remained inside.
Ford felt the resistance immediately. He tried to guide the baby again. Nothing.
“Aurelia…”
She saw it too. “Eira, the head isn’t coming.”
The mother cried out as another contraction tore through her body.
Ford felt his pulse spike. “Flynn,” he tried to keep his voice steady, “the head’s stuck.”
Flynn spoke calmly, “Alright, Cox. Listen carefully.”
Ford tightened his grip on the baby’s body. “I’m listening.”
“You’ve delivered a breech body. The head is still inside the uterus.”
“I can see that.”
“You’re going to perform the Mauriceau maneuver.”
Ford blinked.
Eira’s said, “Ford, support the baby’s body on your forearm.”
He shifted position immediately. “Okay.”
“Good,” Flynn continued. “Place two fingers on the baby’s jaw. Not the throat. The jaw.”
Ford adjusted carefully.
“Now, with your other hand, apply pressure to the back of the head.”
Aurelia watched closely beside him.
“Ready?” Flynn asked.
Ford nodded. “Ready.”
“On the next contraction, you guide the head downward.”
The mother cried out again. Ford felt the contraction tighten under his hands.
“Now,” Flynn said.
Ford applied gentle pressure. For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Finally, movement. The head slipped free into his hands. The baby sagged against his arm.
But the room stayed silent.
No cry.
Ford’s stomach dropped as he clamped and cut the cord. “Aurelia.”
She took the infant quickly and began suctioning the airway. “Come on,” she whispered.
Ford watched every second stretch.
And there it was—a sharp cry burst into the room.
Everyone exhaled at once.
Aurelia laughed breathlessly. “Oh, thank God.”
Ford’s knees weakened slightly. He looked down at the newborn now screaming with surprising strength.
Flynn’s voice came back through the phone, “What do you see?”
Ford exhaled slowly. “A big baby boy.”
Across the line, Eira laughed in relief. “I knew you could do it.”
Ford glanced toward the phone for just a second. “Yeah,” he exhaled, “but let’s not do that again tonight.”
Behind him, the mother let out a broken sob that steadied as the baby cried. She reached for him with shaking hands. Aurelia placed him on her chest.
“My baby…” she whispered, tears streaking down her face. “Thank you.”
Ford nodded once, already shifting his focus. “Rourke, stay with the baby. Keep him warm.”
He turned back to the mother, his tone steady again, controlled. “Hey,” he said gently. “Look at me.”
Her eyes found his.
“You did great. Your son’s okay.”
She nodded, still crying.
“But we’re not done yet,” he added. “I need to close you up.”
Fear flickered on her face.
Ford didn’t let it take hold. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Stay with me.”
He moved into position, hands already working, mind locking back into the procedure.
Because saving the baby was only half the job.
Ford’s eyes returned to the surgical field. Blood pooled steadily in the incision. He grabbed a stack of gauze. “Flynn.”
“I’m here,” Flynn answered.
Ford swallowed. “Now what?”
Flynn didn’t hesitate. “First thing, Cox. How’s the mother bleeding?”
Ford glanced down. “More than I’d like.”
“Expected,” Flynn said. “You just opened a very vascular organ.”
Eira urged, “Talk to us, Ford.”
Ford pressed gauze into the incision. “The uterus is still contracting.”
“Good,” Flynn said. “That helps.”
Tears continued to roll down the mother’s temples.
Flynn continued, “You need to deliver the placenta next.”
Ford nodded. “How?”
“Gentle traction on the cord. Don’t yank it.”
Ford located the umbilical cord and applied careful tension. Nothing moved. “Not coming.”
“Massage the uterus through the abdomen,” Flynn said.
Aurelia immediately placed her hand above the incision and began firm circular pressure.
A moment later, the placenta slid free.
Ford caught it with gauze. “Placenta out.”
“Good,” Flynn said. “Now check the uterus.”
Ford leaned closer. “No obvious tears.”
“Perfect,” Flynn replied. “Now we close.”
Ford looked at the surgical tray. “I need sutures.”
“What do you have?” Flynn asked.
“Random packs. I can’t see the labels yet.”
Flynn answered immediately, “Vicryl zero or one. Chromic gut will work if that’s all you’ve got.”
Ford raised his voice toward the room. “Does anyone see Vicryl or Chromic?”
A nurse who was digging through a supply cart hurried over carrying a stack of sterile packets she pulled from a cabinet. “I found these.” She spread them across the tray.
He chose the Vicryl zero, and the nurse tore open the packet and placed the needle holder in his hand. Outside, the storm slammed into the building hard enough to rattle the windows. Another scream came from the second room.
Rourke, holding the newly delivered boy, appeared in the doorway. “She’s pushing.”
Ford tied the first stitch through the uterine wall. “Pressure steady,” he said to Aurelia.
She nodded and positioned fresh gauze.
Ford worked quickly now. Suture. Pull. Tie. “Eira, tell Hunt thanks.”
“For?”
“He taught me how to stitch paper together in New York when we were in quarantine. I was bored.”
The uterus closed one layer at a time. Down the hall, the mother carrying twins screamed again.
Ford cut the final stitch and stepped back. “Keep pressure on that,” he told the second nurse.
He stripped off his gloves and grabbed fresh ones as he moved toward the second room. “Flynn, I’m moving.”