by Diana Ballew
“I don't feel the baby moving. I'm so frightened,” Lucy whimpered. “Isaac will be heartbroken if the baby's...”
Eden brushed by Ann and knelt at Lucy’s bedside. “I'm going to exam you. Now, calm yourself, dear. Let’s see what's going on here.”
“Oh, must you, now—with me in here?” Ann blurted. “I'm leaving. Holler if you need any—”
“For pity's sake! Stop being a ninny. I may need your help,” Eden snapped back. “You stay right there.”
Ann sank into the chair, her shoulders wilting against the fabric.
Eden examined Lucy. While it was still a few weeks earlier than expected, Lucy’s water had indeed broken.
Lucy held her breath, her fingertips digging into the sheets. “Are you almost done? Is my baby all right?”
A chill traveled the length of Eden’s spine. Oh, Lord...poor Lucy. This was going to be a problem. “Hang on, Lucy, just a few more moments...”
Lucy squirmed uncomfortably as Eden felt her way around as gently as possible.
An icy chill slithered up Eden’s spine. The baby lay in a breech position—a complicated breech position—lying crosswise, which not only put the life of the baby in peril, but Lucy’s life, too.
Hetty and Sarah returned with the supplies and stood silently in the room’s shadows.
After finishing the exam, Eden sat on the bed next to Lucy and held her hand.
“I just don't feel anything.” Lucy squeezed Eden's hand, her eyes growing moist. “Why don't I feel my baby? Tell me—is something wrong?”
Eden turned away from her sister-in-law’s pleading eyes. She needed a full picture of the situation before she told her the distressing news. “I’m going to listen to the baby’s heartbeat.”
She opened her bag and retrieved the stethoscope. While her hands searched, she fingered around for the other instruments—the awful tools often needed for a complex, difficult, and sometimes heartbreaking delivery. There they are—the forceps and the hook. She hoped to God she would not be forced to use either instrument, but sometimes they were required.
She had delivered a baby with forceps only twice, and her mind raced as she tried to recall everything her father had taught her. For years, she wished she could forget the times she had watched her father use the horrible iron hook after stillborn babies died, or during undeliverable breech positions where the poor mother’s life hung by a thread.
The instrument of death.
She pulled out the stethoscope, leaving the forceps and hook in the bag and out of view from the others.
Not all doctors had stethoscopes and a midwife, almost never. Thankfully, her father had the latest medical instruments at the time of his death.
Eden closed her eyes and listened closely. “I hear the baby's healthy heartbeat.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at Lucy.
Lucy put her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank you, Lord.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
Eden looked evenly into Lucy’s eyes. “There’s one issue, honey. I don’t want to alarm you, but I—”
“Oh, my heavens—what?” Despite her large belly, Lucy scrambled to a sitting position. “What is it?”
There was no way to say it other than to just spit the words out. “The baby’s in a difficult position for birth—a very complicated breech position—”
“What the devil is breech?” Ann asked. “Will she and the baby be all right?”
Eden glared at Ann, silently instructing her to shut her mouth.
“I’m frightened,” Lucy said in a tiny voice. “What does this mean?”
Eden sighed. “Typically, it means a much longer and more difficult labor. Lucy, we cannot leave the baby positioned the way he or she is right now. The baby would not be able to come out.”
Lucy’s eyes grew so wide, they looked like they could pop out of her head. She swallowed hard. “What can be done—anything?”
“I need to turn the baby into a better position—”
“Oh, my heavens!” Ann blotted her neck with a handkerchief. “I think I feel a case of the vapors coming on. I need to sit down.”
“You are sitting down,” Eden sneered over her shoulder. She turned back to Lucy and forced a smile. “Honey, we don’t have a choice.”
Lucy slumped into Eden’s arms and cried. “Oh, how I wish Isaac were here. I just can’t believe this is happening. I’m paying for my sins, aren’t I?” She sniffed and pulled away at arm’s length, searching Eden’s face. “Please tell me you can do this.”
“Yes, we can do this.” She smoothed Lucy’s hair. “We must do this.”
There was no choice. Attempting to let the baby come without intervention would undoubtedly kill them both. Lucy was a slight female with a small pelvis structure. Even if she managed to turn the baby, she worried her sister-in-law might not have the strength and endurance for such a fight.
“I’m going to get you relaxed and then attempt to move the baby into a better position.”
Lucy closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek, dripping silently upon the quilt. “I trust you. Do what you must.”
“All right, then.” Eden scrambled into action. “Hetty, fetch the laudanum and make some raspberry tea. Her pains haven’t started yet, and this will help her muscles relax, making it easier when the time comes.”
The day had grown hot and muggy, and Eden tossed the curtains aside and opened the windows wide. Trinidad delivered sweet tea, kept chilled in the dark cellar throughout the day, and Hetty and Sarah cooled the women with large peacock feather fans.
Lucy was drifting in and out of sleep. After three long hours, four cups of tea, and a hefty dosage of laudanum, Eden determined the time had come to attempt the tricky procedure and move the baby presenting horizontally into a vertical position. The little hand she had felt at the birth canal earlier would need to be pushed back first.
Eden placed a wet cloth on Lucy's forehead. “It’s time, honey. Are you ready?”
Through half-closed lids, Lucy searched for Eden’s hand and squeezed. “We’ll do this...together,” she whispered.
Doctors often tied a woman’s arms down for the risky procedure, but Eden refused to go so far. She retrieved the smooth, rounded wood block from her bag. If she could perform the maneuver swiftly, the biting block, along with as much support as possible, would get Lucy through the torturous pain. God, how she wished she had chloroform!
She bent close to Lucy’s face. “I won’t lie to you; this is going to hurt.” She handed her the wooden bite block. “Use this.”
Lucy’s eyes paled with resignation as she took hold of the thin block.
Hetty and Ann stood next to Lucy near the headboard. Eden went to the foot of the bed. “You’re going to feel my hand now.”
Eden moved in slowly, gently, until she reached the tiny hand presenting itself in the birth canal. When she made contact, the baby’s little fingers moved. God give me strength. “There’s going to be more pressure now.”
“Use the block now, Mrs. Blair,” Hetty insisted.
Lucy did as told, and Hetty and Ann each took one of her hands.
Eden used more force, pushing her way inside, and Lucy cried out. “Bite down hard, Lucy—squeeze their hands—hold tight,” she commanded.
She moved the baby’s small fist back inside the womb. Once she grasped the little elbow, she moved her fingers higher up to the baby’s shoulder.
Lucy arched her back and began huffing and wailing in between biting down on the block of wood. “Oh, Lord!”
Eden glanced at Lucy, who appeared close to passing out. “Hold on tight—almost there.” She pushed upward, turning the little shoulder. Slowly, the baby’s head began moving up, slipping into a vertical position with the feet nearing the birth canal.
“Eden, look—Lucy!” Ann yelled. “Oh, God in heaven, is she dead?”
Lucy’s eyes rolled up in her head, and her body went limp. The block of wood rolled down the side of her cheek, landing quietly on the
bed.
“No, but she’s passed out from the pain. Hold her hands— I’m almost done.”
She had to finish this fast, or she would lose them both.
With Lucy passed out cold, Eden placed one hand above her belly and the other inside. Ever so gently, she maneuvered the baby into a deliverable position. She could do no more without damaging Lucy’s delicate tissues, making things worse.
Just as she removed her hand, a stream of amniotic fluid gushed forth, and Lucy woke to a hard contraction. “Oh, Eden...I’m going to die!” she screamed.
Eden swiftly moved around to her bedside and turned Lucy’s chin toward her. “You’re not going to die—do you hear me? Look at me, Lucy. I won’t let you die!”
Ann coughed. “I just don’t know why we women have to go through such pain—”
“Ann, hush up!” Eden whispered between pursed lips. She turned back to Lucy.
Another fifteen minutes ticked by and the pains had clearly gotten worse.
“How much longer?” Lucy asked breathlessly. “I don't know how much vigor I have in me.” She smiled weakly and groaned. “Why does this have to hurt so much?”
Eden had always wondered that herself. Why were so many animals able to deliver without so much as a whimper? As a child, she had watched countless animals give birth: pet cats and dogs, horses and pigs and more, and there had always been a clear difference in pain level between a human female and an animal.
She looked into her sweet sister-in-law’s eyes and smiled. “I think it's painful so we know how important this moment is for a woman.”
Lucy’s face suddenly twisted and turned bright red. “I think I need to push. Yes, I definitely need to push.”
Eden smiled. “I think it’s time, honey. Let me check you first. Try not to push until I say so.”
Eden did a quick assessment. Considering the pain, Lucy had handled herself with impressive poise. The baby was coming feet first, but this breech position was nothing compared to the earlier presentation.
“Ayyyyyy!” Lucy yowled.
“You’re doing wonderful, honey. Keep squeezing Ann's hand. It helps cut the pain.”
“Ha!” Ann squealed. “Cuts whose pain? My lil’ ol’ hands are bruised.”
Ann’s comment brought a much-needed smile to Lucy's face. Hetty placed a fresh, cool cloth on Lucy's forehead.
“Ohhhhh, here comes another pain...a big one!” Lucy scrunched her eyes shut. “This is a big one—please say I can push—I have to push!”
“You’re ready, Lucy. Push away.”
Eden, Hetty, and Ann all encouraged Lucy as she yelled and cried in pain. The baby’s tiny feet came first, followed by the legs and hips, but the umbilical cord had suddenly become wedged up high.
“I can’t!” Lucy thrashed her head against the pillows. I can’t...”
Oh, Lord above, NO! Eden reached inside her bag. Just then, Lucy gave a massive push, and within seconds, she had skillfully delivered a healthy baby girl. After cutting the cord, Hetty sponge washed and swaddled the tiny baby and placed her in Lucy's arms.
Eden gazed at Lucy, who looked as beautiful as the Madonna herself, as she lay smiling at her new baby daughter swaddled within her arms. The little girl’s blue eyes searched her mother’s face and wrapped her perfect tiny hand around Lucy’s finger.
“Isaac and I already have names picked out,” Lucy whispered, smiling softly. “Please meet little Rebecca Blair.”
Eden's chin quivered, her eyes welling with tears. To name the baby after her mother made her heart soar with pride.
Later, with everyone having left the room except for Eden, Lucy snuggled close to her baby and spoke openly. “At night, I close my eyes as tight as I can, and I send good thoughts directly to Isaac’s mind. And you know what, Eden? I think sometimes he does that to me, too. I know it must sound silly, but I can feel him thinking of me and the baby right now, and I'm so comforted.”
Eden felt a twinge of envy pierce her heart. Lucy and Isaac had a wonderful connection, everything she had dreamed of for herself, and what she thought she had possessed with Patrick. Clearly, her life with him had been nothing but a lie.
In the distance, the sounds of steady gunfire echoed across the river. Eden scrambled up and pressed her fingertips to the window. Gray ribbons of smoke weaved through the treetops.
“Oh, how I despise that awful sound,” Lucy said. “I wonder where Isaac is now. I wish he were here—with us.”
“I do, too,” Eden said, watching for movement matching the frightening outlying sounds. “I do, too.”
“You know, Daniel told me not to worry too much because it won't help. He said he used to worry about Rayce all the time, but just when he'd worry himself silly, the major would show up no worse for the wear.”
“Is that right?” Eden muttered, searching the horizon.
“Yes, he said he stopped fretting about him because Trinidad worries enough for the two of them, anyway.”
Trinidad again. What power did the mysterious and beautiful Trinidad have over Rayce? In front of others, the formal pretense of master and servant was obvious, but when she spied them alone, they appeared far too comfortable with one another.
Lucy gasped. “Oh, I almost forgot. I received a letter from Aunt Martha earlier today. She’s in a terrible way with the Yankees closing in toward Richmond. She said Eliza’s by her side and taking good care of her, but her friends had left and headed down south when we evacuated Yorktown. She also mentioned she spotted Rayce walking into the Spotswood Hotel. But, of course, the letter had been written a while ago, and I don’t know if anyone’s heard from him since.”
As much as Eden hated to admit it, at that very moment, she would have liked to have Rayce nearby. Yes, the man was conceited and high-minded, but his masculine presence made her feel safe and secure. She remembered how warm and alive she had felt in his arms.
God help me, I miss his touch.
Lucy’s brows knitted together. “You look tired, dear. Perhaps you should get some rest. Do a little something for yourself, honey, you deserve it.”
It had been a long day, and Eden felt the unsteady wave of weariness settling in her muscles. “I’ll send Hetty up to keep an eye on you and tend to the baby. You rest yourself, Lucy. I’ll be back soon.”
Eden headed down the portico steps and slowly walked the grounds. She gazed across the sprawling, overgrown lawn; vividly green against the amber sunset. In the distance, field hands, looking like dark dots baking in the heat of the setting sun, busied themselves, tending the crops embarking on their season's journey. She inhaled the rancid aroma of stale gunpowder. Against the charming hues of blooming orchards, the gray clouds of smoke billowed defiantly against the horizon.
Daniel came into view and called out, “We got Yankees a coming, Miss Eden. Yankees be coming up the entry.”
“What?” Eden narrowed her gaze, trying to make out the blue uniforms of the men riding up the long path. “Just what we need right now.”
“Holy Moses, Miss Eden, what we gonna do?” Daniel asked, breathlessly.
Eden grabbed his shirttail. “Come with me. We’re going to stand our ground—that’s what we’re going to do.”
The two stood waiting on the portico as four disheveled Yankee soldiers rode up on horses that looked like they had seen better days. After what felt like an eternity, a tall sergeant, chewing on a sprig of wheat, dismounted from his horse and took a long drink from his canteen. Finally, he trudged up the portico steps, while the other soldiers hung back.
Eden glared at the filthy Yank, reeking of whiskey, without saying a word.
He removed his cap. “Me and my fellers here are tired and hungry. We’d like some food. Likely a chicken or two, and something from your smokehouse will do.”
“You Yanks have been here before and taken what you wanted each time.” She narrowed her eyes to slits. ”I have nothing more for you. I think it’s best you leave.”
The man took a step
forward. Daniel inhaled sharply, about to do the same, but she gestured for him to stay put.
The sergeant surveyed her from head to boot tip and licked his lips. “That a fact?” He took another step toward her. “What I'm saying, pretty lady, is I'm not really asking ya, I'm telling ya. Me and my boys are gonna camp on these grounds tonight, and we're taking what we need.”
Eden’s gaze darted between him and the three mounted Yankees hanging back.
He thrust a grubby thumb over his shoulder. “One of these boys here ain’t feeling so good.” He spit the wheat sprig on the porch. “So, don't be trying any funny business neither.”
He started back to his men and turned over his shoulder, looking directly at Eden. “You all play your cards right, we’ll be outta here at daybreak. Have a great night, now.” He snickered.
“Oh, if Lucy wasn't upstairs with a new baby, I’d shoot that vile man myself!”
Daniel nodded in agreement. “So, what we gonna do, Miss Eden?”
Her pulse quickened and she bolted into action. The ruffians can‘t take what they can‘t find.
“Daniel, hide what you can while they're setting themselves up. Run to the smokehouse. Gather any chickens and hogs from the pens and run them down to the creek. Hide whatever you can, as fast as you can.” She grabbed his sleeve and looked into his dark face. “And don't get caught. These filthy Yanks mean business.”
Daniel grinned. “Oh, no. Don’t you worry none. I won't get caught. I can be slippery when I need to be.” He quickly wobbled away toward the outbuildings.
The swift knock at the door woke Eden abruptly. She sat up, clutching the coverlet to her chest. “Yes?” she called.
“’Tis me, Miss Blair. I must speak with you.”
“Lord above.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, trying to make out the time on the clock above the mantle. “Come in, Trinidad.”
The servant entered and paused at the doorway. “There be trouble with the Yankee men.”
She sat up straight. “What kind of trouble?”
Trinidad, whose emotions were always hard to interpret, appeared anxious, making Eden’s stomach instantly curdle.
“A Yankee man smelling of whiskey came to the door, and he hold a gun to Daniel's head and told him to fetch a doctor.”