“Nay, Elsie, Morag sent for ye. Jessie’s bairn is coming and she’d like ye to be there.”
“Of course. I’ll just dress and go straight away. Thank ye for coming to fetch me.”
“’Twas nothing.” He turned to leave, but stopped turning back to her. “Elsie, please take good care of her. She’s my little sister and ever since the trouble she had with Flora, I know she’s feared this. It’s one reason I asked to go with Cade to fetch ye.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. She was certain that the medieval warrior standing in front of her wouldn’t shrink from any foe, but the naked fear in his eyes gripped her heart. This wasn’t just a fear of the unknown or unexpected, encountered regularly in her practice but easily minimized with the confidence of modern medicine. Stephan was terrified that his sister might not live through this night—a fear that was all too real here.
Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “I will do everything in my power to help her, Stephan. I promise.”
He nodded. “Thank ye, Elsie.”
Elsie dressed quickly and hurried out of the keep. Everyone she passed in the great hall, who was still awake called to her, sending their prayers and good wishes for Jessie. Once again the sense of community was deeply moving.
When she reached the cottage, John waited outside with two older men. One, she recognized as William, one of the MacKenzie guardsmen.
John looked like a classic worried father. “Elsie, thank ye for coming. This is my da, Lars, and I suspect ye know William. He’s Jessie’s father.”
Surprise number two. But now that she knew, she was amazed she hadn’t noticed before. The resemblance he bore to Stephan was striking.
“Good evening.” She nodded to the men. “Is everything well?”
John frowned. “Aye, I suppose well enough.”
“Flora is with yer older sister?”
“Aye.”
She smiled at him. “And ye’d rather be out here?”
“Oh, by the saints, if I could be on the other side of the village I would be. Hearing Jessie’s cries rends my heart.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Has she been in a lot of pain then?”
John shook his head. “Nay, but if it’s anything like the last time, she will be.”
“Well, I’ll go in and see what’s what. I’d tell ye to stay calm, but I fear I’d be wasting my words.”
Both older men chuckled at this comment. “Aye, I expect ye would be,” said Lars.
Before Elizabeth entered the cottage William said, “She’s my only daughter, Elsie.”
His message was as poignantly clear as Stephan’s had been, I’m afraid of losing her. Elizabeth turned back to him and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll do everything in my power to bring everyone safely through this night. I promise.”
He nodded.
She gave him as reassuring a smile as she could before entering the cottage. She found Jessie, clearly in the middle of a contraction, standing and clutching the edge of the table, while her mother, Sorcha, rubbed her back. A birthing chair stood to one side.
Morag sat in a chair near the hearth. “Elsie, thank ye for coming, lass.”
Elsie gave her a warm smile. “I would have been very disappointed if ye hadn’t sent for me. How long has she been laboring?”
“She’s had the odd pain since late afternoon. They became regular about two hours ago. I sent for ye when they became stronger and came closer together.”
“Has her water broken?”
“Nay, but I expect it will soon.”
When the contraction had passed, Jessie drew in a deep breath and blew it out before letting go of the table. She gave Elsie a hug. “I’m glad ye’re here.”
“Nothing could keep me away. How are ye doing?”
“I’m fine, so far. I’ve been trying to breathe like ye showed me to. I think it helps. A little at least.”
Her mother nodded her agreement. “I wouldn’t have thought it, but so far it does seem to make things easier.”
“Good. Jessie, can I examine ye quickly before the next contraction comes?”
Jessie nodded. “Come with me into the bedroom.” When both her mother and Morag started to follow, Jessie said, “Oh Mama, ye and Morag take a bit of a rest. We’ll just be a minute.”
Morag nodded knowingly and linked her arm in Sorcha’s. “It’ll be a long night, taking a moment to rest is a good idea.”
Elizabeth suspected there was something Jessie wished to tell her, privately and clearly Morag did to. It didn’t take long to find out what it was. As soon as they were in the little bedroom, Jessie turned to her and gripping her by the arms whispered, “I’m afraid Elsie. I don’t want mama and Morag to know. But I don’t think I can do this. The last time…well, I can’t live through that again.”
Elizabeth put her arms around the other woman. “I know ye’re frightened, but ye must remember, every birth is different and the first one is usually the most difficult.”
“But, Elsie—”
Elizabeth guided her to the bed. “Nay. We are not going to borrow trouble. Ye’re doing very well. Lie down so I can check ye and perhaps we can put a few of those fears to rest.”
Based on the pattern of Jessie’s labor so far, Elizabeth suspected she was in the latter stages of active labor and this was confirmed with her physical assessment. Jessie’s cervix was dilated to about seven centimeters and the amniotic sac was bulging.
Jessie moaned just as Elizabeth finished her exam. “Another one is coming.”
“Hold my hand and I’ll breathe through it with ye.”
Jessie squeezed her fingers so hard, Elizabeth feared they’d break. Note to self, grip thumbs next time. The contraction was strong and Elizabeth estimated that it lasted a little less than a minute.
When it was over, and Jessie had taken a deep cleansing breath, Elizabeth smiled. “Well done. Ye’ll be happy to know, the baby is in the perfect position and things seem to be moving along very nicely. I don’t think it will be much longer.”
“Really?”
“Really. Yer womb is opening and yer contractions are strong and getting closer together.”
“Should I stay lying down?”
“Not unless ye’re more comfortable this way.”
“Truthfully, I’m not.”
“Then let me help ye up and we can go into the other room if ye wish.”
“Aye, Mama will worry if we don’t.”
When they returned to the front room, it was to find that two more women had joined them. Sorcha introduced them. “Elsie, this is John’s mother, Mary, and this is Stephan’s wife, Kat. They’ve come to help.
“It’s nice to meet ye both.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure how much help they needed, but Jessie appeared very pleased to see them. Then again, when Elizabeth stopped to think about it, there were always lots of people attending a modern birth—the obstetrician, nurses, sometimes an anesthesiologist and maybe even a neonatologist. Most of these people were strangers to the parents but their goal was to help the mother and newborn. These women were here for the same reason. They all cared deeply about Jessie and wanted to support her and do whatever they could.
After years of practicing as an obstetrician, for the first time in her life, Elizabeth joined in the ancient ritual of waiting for a child to enter the world instead of just swooping in at the end.
For the next couple hours, things continued on has they had, strong contractions came every five minutes or so and lasted close to a minute. Between contractions the women kept Jessie distracted. Elizabeth learned that Morag had delivered Jessie, John, Kat and all of their siblings. Elizabeth wondered what it would be like to know a woman from the day she was born to the day she delivered her children and perhaps their children.
During contractions, they breathed with Jessie as Elizabeth had suggested, rubbed her back, and offered quiet encouragement. Jessie still found it easier to stand when she was in the grips of pain, but she was becoming weary and often sat to wait f
or the next one.
Finally, her water broke. Sorcha and Kat helped her clean up and change into a dry shift. Then the contractions were more frequent, stronger, and lasted longer. After several of these, she cried, “Mama, I’m tired, I can’t do this.”
Sorcha put her arms around her daughter. “Of course ye’re tired sweetling, but ye can do this. Come sit with me and rest.” Sorcha led her gently towards the bedroom. She sat on the bed, with her back against the wall and helped Jessie sit in front of her, between her legs. Wrapped in her mother’s arms, Jessie’s back rested against her mother’s chest. Sorcha crooned a soft song that sounded like a lullaby. Mary moved to sit beside the bed, holding Jessie’s hand.
Elizabeth watched from the doorway as these two women who loved Jessie, helped her through the next several contractions with calm, quiet strength.
Morag sat in her chair near the hearth, taking a brief rest herself. “I expect it’s nearly time.”
Elizabeth turned to her. “Aye, it likely is.”
“I’ll get things ready,” said Kat, who busied herself collecting linen toweling, positioning the birthing chair and hanging a pot of water to warm over the fire. She also put a large wooden basin, a spool of thread and knife on the table.
Elizabeth reckoned that the thread was to tie off the cord and the knife for cutting it. “Morag, I know I have mentioned how important it is to keep things very clean. I’ve found it to be helpful to wash the knife well and pour boiling water over it before using it to cut the cord.”
“Have ye? I can’t imagine what it would do, but I see no harm in it. Kat, lass, can ye do that?”
“Aye, of course, Morag.”
When the water was boiling, Elizabeth poured some into the basin and when it had cooled, she washed her hands meticulously. At Kat’s questioning look, Elizabeth explained. “As I said, I’ve also found if ye keep anything that comes into contact with the mother or the baby very clean, they both stay healthier and are less likely to take a fever.”
Kat shrugged and washed her hands too, as did Morag.
Jessie was no longer able to keep from crying out during contractions and after another long, keening wail, Elizabeth went into the bedroom.
“Elsie, the pressure is terrible. I need to push.”
“Let me check to see if yer womb is fully open.” She examined Jessie quickly and smiled. “Aye, ye’re ready. Ye can push with the next contraction.
“Do ye want to stay here or sit in the chair?” her mother asked.
“The chair,” said Jessie.
She had barely made it to the chair when she was gripped by another strong contraction.
“All right, Jessie, push while I count to ten,” said Elizabeth. When she reached ten, she said, “Take a deep breath and push again.” They repeated this one more time until the contraction left. “Now take a deep breath and let it go.”
Jessie pushed in this manner for about twenty minutes before the baby started crowning, a little more of its head appearing each time.
After several more contractions, Elizabeth said, “We’re almost there. This next one should do it.”
Sure enough, the baby’s head was out with the next push. “Stop pushing now for a moment.” Elizabeth slipped a finger to the baby’s neck to be sure the cord wasn’t around it.
Morag handed her one of the clean linen towels. “All right, one more push, lass and we’ve a new MacKenzie.”
Within moments a newborn’s cry rent the air. Elizabeth wrapped the babe in a towel and smiling broadly, placed him in Jessie’s arms. “Ye have a wee son.”
Jessie laughed and cried, as did the other women in the room.
Elizabeth did not cut the umbilical cord immediately. Although it was the common practice in western medicine, it only began in the eighteenth century. She had read several articles recently suggesting that there was no harm in waiting a few minutes, so she elected not to shock her medieval friends by cutting the cord too soon. She waited until after she had delivered the placenta before tying off the cord and cutting it.
The other women took over caring for the baby and Jessie. Soon she was clean and tucked into bed with her newborn son suckling at her breast. Elizabeth and Morag tidied up all evidence of the birthing. When things were finally put to rights, Morag said. “Well done, Elsie.”
Elizabeth smiled at her. “Was this another test?”
Morag chuckled quietly. “Aye, of course it was, and it’s perfectly clear, ye may look like a bairn yerself, but ye’re a skilled and capable midwife.”
“Thank ye, Morag.” Elizabeth hugged her. She had come to respect and admire the old woman immensely over the last two weeks. Now that she had received it, Elizabeth realized that gaining Morag’s approval had been as important to her as passing her medical board exams had been.
Now, lass, “Let’s go tell John, he has a son and ye can walk me home. Things are well in hand here.”
They stepped outside together and when she saw the worried men, Morag’s face split into a broad grin. “Good news, Jessie is well and ye have a braw new son.” John looked profoundly relieved. His father and father-in-law slapped him on the shoulders, offering him their congratulations.
“Ye can go in and see her now lad.”
“Thank ye, Morag. Thank ye, Elsie. For everything.” John hurried into his little cottage without another word and after thanking the women themselves, William and Lars followed.
Elsie walked Morag back to her cottage and then went alone the rest of the way to the keep. As she walked, she thought back to her last night on call, before Gertrude had given her the pocket watch. She remembered feeling exhausted that morning but now she realized it was more than that. She had felt numb. She had delivered six babies that night and couldn’t remember a single detail about any of the women, the course of their labor or the infants she brought into the world. The miracle of birth had become mundane for her.
Now, as she trudged wearily through the cold, dark, pre-dawn hours she was just as tired as she had been that morning. But this morning she was not numb—far from it. Every detail of the birth was brilliantly sharp, colored with the array of emotions she had witnessed and experienced. She had not only brought a new soul into the world, she had been a part of a sisterhood, the women who, throughout time supported, encouraged, and loved a woman through one of the most painful, frightening and yet awe-inspiring moments of her life.
Elizabeth knew that this birth, out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, she had attended, was different. It was exactly as she had imagined everyday of her life as an obstetrician would be. It was what she had wanted. Gertrude’s words came back to her yet again, “There was a time when doctors, healers and midwives experienced exactly what ye say ye want.”
When she reached the keep, Stephan was one of the men on watch. “How is she?” he asked, his tone as rife with worry as it had been hours ago.
She smiled broadly, thrilled to be able to deliver wonderful news. “Everything went well. She’s fine and the babe is a strong, healthy boy.”
“Oh, thank God.” Relief flooded his expression.
“Yer parents and Kat were still with her when I left.”
“Aye, I expect they were, I’ll stop by when the next watch comes on. Thank ye, Elsie.”
She nodded. “Ye’re welcome.”
“Now, ye should find yer bed, ye look weary.”
“I will. Good night, Stephan.”
She slipped into the keep as quietly as possible. Most of the people bedded down in the great hall still slept, but a few roused as she passed and asked about Jessie.
The news, “She had a son and all’s well,” was always met with joy and prayers of thanksgiving.
When she reached her chamber, she didn’t bother starting a fire in the brazier. She removed her outer garment and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her. She sighed, satisfied with her night’s work, and gave into sleep.
Chapter 16
Elizabeth was jarred awake sudd
enly by the sound of metal crashing into metal and an intense pain in the back of her head. She sat up in bed, confused for a moment. She had been dreaming about being in the cab when the accident happened. She blinked several times in early morning light, taking in the room around her. Right. The pocket watch. Thirteenth century Scotland.
Not ready to venture beyond the warmth of her bed, she lay back down, snuggling under the covers. She tried to remember the dream. The cabbie had been asking her about music. He’d asked her what kind of music she liked, but he didn’t want to listen to country-western. He asked her about Christian rock, salsa, gangsta rap and…something obscure. Why did she think it had something to do with video games?
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to relax. Maybe she could remember the whole conversation. After he shot down country-western he had asked if there was anything she didn’t like.
“I don’t think so.”
“Christian Rock?”
“That’s fine.”
“Salsa?”
“Whatever.”
“Gangsta rap?”
“I guess I don’t really care for gangsta rap.”
“How about Nintendocore?”
Nintendocore. That was it. That was the last word she’d said. She hadn’t heard of it before and remembered thinking it might have something to do with video games but the accident happened before she could ask the cabbie.
Nintendocore was the return word. She just needed to tell Gertrude and she could go back to the twenty-first century. For some reason, this thought made her sad.
She had been in the thirteenth century for nearly four weeks. From the moment she’d arrived, she’d struggled every day to remember the word. Now that she had, why did her heart feel so heavy?
Because the truth is you haven’t struggled every day to remember the word. You stopped thinking about it after the first few days.
The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 14
