by Lorin Grace
Sarah paled at her sister’s distraught face. It was all the confirmation Tim needed to know today was going to be much more eventful than it already had been.
John turned with the full warming pan. His face also fell.
Lucy spoke first. “Doctor, we would be obliged if you could stay for a while. This little one is not going to wait another three weeks, and, to be honest, something doesn’t feel quite right.”
Clang! The warming pan fell to the floor, scattering the coals. John wavered as if he might faint.
Sarah stood, the water in the basin at her feet sloshing about.
Samuel helped Lucy to the other rocker and took control. “John, the baby won’t be here for several hours yet. Get those coals back in the pan before you burn down my house. Sarah sit back down. We are going to need you, so you’d better get those feet defrosted now.”
To Tim’s amazement, John and Sarah complied immediately. He turned to Lucy. After eight children, she would have a good idea of when this one would arrive. He didn’t need to ask.
“I think two to three hours. Samuel, if you can take the little ones to Maryanna, Louisa can help Sarah and the doctor. John, unless you feel you need to be at your mother’s side, you may as well go home. I would like to have Lettie here. When the boys get back from town, they can do the chores. In fact, John, it would be better if you would take the children to Maryanna’s.” Lucy stopped as a contraction moved over her.
Tim suppressed a smile. Lucy was one of those women who took charge during a birthing. So much easier than the ones who whimpered in fear.
John crossed his arms. “You know Samuel is no good with childbirth.”
“No, but he will be good with Emma. Now get the warming pan in where it needs to be. Timmy, check Sarah. I need her help, but not until her feet are out of danger.” Tim didn’t laugh at the use of his childhood nickname. A birthing mother could call him anything she pleased.
Sarah didn’t balk when Tim lifted one foot out of the water. Her eyebrows and lips pinched together as he tested her cold flesh. “Does that hurt?”
“Of course it does,” said Sarah through gritted teeth.
Tim tested the other foot with better results. He added more hot water to the tub. “They are thawing out nicely. There is no reason why Sarah won’t be ready to assist in the delivery.” He did not add that although most of her foot seemed to be recovering, the smallest two toes on her left foot were not. He prayed he was wrong, but an amputation could wait until another doctor could perform it.
Twenty-two
When Lucy started pacing back and forth, Sarah knew it wouldn’t be long. Tim had given her permission to get out of the water as long as she kept her feet warm. Lucy had produced three sets of stockings. Emma’s condition had neither markedly improved in the past two hours nor deteriorated. After some debate, they carried Emma to the narrow bed from what had once been Sarah’s room, having moved the table so the bed could be placed near the fire. Sarah changed the linens and prepared Lucy and Samuel’s room for the arrival of her newest niece or nephew, then offered her arm to Lucy and began to pace the room with her. With the exception of Maryanna, Sarah had helped with the delivery of all Lucy’s children, even if it had only been entertaining the children.
As they made the turn, her sister’s grip tightened unbearably. Lucy breathed heavily. After a minute, Lucy whispered one word.
“Bed.”
Sarah could only remember Lucy trying a birthing stool once and declaring she did not like that position. Sarah helped her sister remove her over robe and climb into her bed, then went through the mental checklist Emma had taught her to go through.
Tim knocked on the door. “May I come in?”
Sarah nodded. Talking about what happened during a birthing with a man, even the father of the baby, was embarrassing, but discussing it with Tim? Much worse. How could Lucy not be mortified? Tim walked over to Lucy, bent over her, and spoke quietly with her.
He stood and turned toward Sarah as the next contraction took Lucy’s body. “She is close, but she is worried. She has agreed to let me examine her. Hold the lantern, please.”
“The cord should not be there.” Tim’s eyes met Sarah’s. “Your hands are smaller than mine. Did Emma ever teach you how to move it?”
Sarah couldn’t speak, so she nodded and rolled up her sleeves.
Tim spoke to Lucy in a calm, low voice. Sarah faced the difficult choice of which way to move the cord. The wrong way could strangle the baby. As soon as the next contraction passed, Sarah worked as fast as she could. Emma’s voice echoed in her head as she labored against nature to move the baby back and release the cord. The next contraction came while her fingers were still around the side of the baby’s head. How could such a small baby survive such squeezing? As soon as it ended, Sarah completed her job.
Tim slipped Lucy’s hands around the rope tied to the headboard. “Try not to push until I say.” He changed places with Sarah and took a wicked-looking instrument from his bag. He shook his head at Sarah.
Sarah kept her mouth closed. Forceps. She had only ever heard of them. She couldn’t watch, even if it would be the fastest way to get the baby out.
Tim gave her no such option. “Hold your sister’s leg. That little one needs to come out now. We don’t know if the cord is wrapped around—” He left the sentence hanging as the next contraction built. “Push now!”
Lucy’s scream filled the air. Sarah struggled to keep herself from joining in as Tim clamped the instrument around the babe’s head and pulled.
The cord was wrapped under the child’s arm and across its chest. Sarah gasped. She had moved the cord in the wrong direction! In one motion, Tim cut it, freeing its strangle hold, and told Lucy she could push with the next contraction. As soon as the baby was out, he worked quickly, rubbing the child’s back until it mewed a tiny sound. “There you go, little one. Get some more air in you.”
He turned the baby over, and the quietest cry escaped.
Lucy reached for Sarah. “Is he—?”
“She,” corrected Tim as a lusty cry filled the room.
Sarah released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The forceps had saved her niece. If they had waited for Lucy to push the baby out naturally, the cord could have strangled her, all because Sarah had guessed wrong when she’d moved the cord.
Tim turned to her. “This little angel isn’t as big as I would like. I need you to keep her warm while we finish. We can wash her later.”
Lucy reached for the baby, but Tim shook his head. “Not yet. You can’t keep her warm enough while you finish.”
Sarah walked to the place where the sun came through the window. Not that it was much warmer there, but holding the baby tightly wrapped in soft flannel seemed to work. The baby hiccupped.
A knock came at the door. Sarah opened it to Samuel’s pale face.
She scooted him out. “Sit before you faint.”
Samuel crumpled into a chair. “Ma’s gone.”
Lucy breathed in sharply, then looked down at the little bundle in her arms.
Samuel held out his hands.
“I haven’t washed her yet.”
“I don’t care.”
“There is blood.”
“I don’t care.”
Sarah transferred the baby to Samuel’s arms. “Keep her warm. She is too small.”
Samuel nodded, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped the baby inside. He looked at Sarah, his gaze steady but his voice wavering. “Ma said this works with mothers. Maybe it works with fathers, too.”
Sarah studied him for a moment. He appeared steady enough. He wasn’t as excited as he had been when the other children were born, but with Emma … She sighed. Nothing would change that. It was better to focus on the baby and L
ucy. “Do you feel faint?”
Samuel shook his head, his eyes on the tiny child on his chest.
“I’ll let Tim—I mean Dr. Dawes—know.” Sarah returned to the bedroom but stopped in the doorway.
Tim held another bundle in his arms. “Another girl. Go put her with her sister.”
The baby whimpered as they transferred her. “She is smaller, isn’t she?”
Tim nodded. “Hurry back.”
Sarah was out the door before she realized she hadn’t shared the news of Emma’s passing.
Samuel rocked slowly in the rocker, whispering to the baby on his chest. He looked up when Sarah approached. He blinked, and his eyes grew wide.
“Do you have room for another one? Ti—Dr. Dawes said to put them together.”
Samuel uncovered the first little girl, who seemed to be sleeping. “Twins? Help me set her here.”
Sarah partially unwrapped the tiny baby and positioned her next to her sister. The older one moved her arm as if trying to draw her younger sister to her. Samuel scooted them closer, then covered them with the flannel. “Can you get me a warmed blanket from the chair by the fire?”
Sarah chose the smallest one from the pile, but it was almost half as big as the new father. Sarah checked once again to be sure the blood was not bothering her brother-in-law. “I need to go back in. Will you be all right until I can come back and wash them?”
Samuel nodded.
Sarah hurried back to her sister’s bedside. Tim was rinsing his hands in the wash basin. “I assume Emma taught you the massage techniques?”
Sarah nodded, then whispered, “Emma passed a few minutes ago.”
A curt nod indicated he’d heard her. “I’m sorry, Sarah. If you can take care of your sister, I will go look at those baby girls.”
“I didn’t wash them.” Sarah pointed to the pitcher, large wooden bowl, and toweling she’d set up on the dressing table near the window.
“I’ll take care of that. Come get me if there is anything amiss. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Tim grabbed the toweling and empty bowl along with his bag and left the room.
Sarah sat next to Lucy. “Another set of twins.”
Lucy gave her a weak smile. “For a moment I thought I saw Emma standing in here helping with the second baby, but … she passed, didn’t she?”
Sarah nodded.
“Then maybe she was here.”
“How are they breathing?” Tim gently pulled back the blanket to look at the babies.
“It may sound odd, but the older one is breathing better since her sister joined her.”
“Then they aren’t going to like me separating them to wash them.”
Samuel looked up. “I thought you asked Sarah to do that.”
“She is helping Lucy. Your mother taught her well. It is too bad she was not accepted as a midwife due to being unwed. She knew exactly what to do when the first one tried to come a bit too fast.”
Samuel traced a semicircular bruise on the first daughter’s head. “You used forceps.” There was no question in his voice.
“I felt it was best given the difficulty.” Tim didn’t know what Samuel had learned years ago when he’d studied to become a doctor, and he didn’t want to overwhelm the new father with details he didn’t need to know.
“I am glad you were here, then. Hand me a cloth, and I will clean them as much as I can, then you can count all their fingers and toes and we can take them in to my wife. I am surprised she is not calling for them.”
The men worked in silence for several minutes. Sarah came out of the bedroom and crossed to the fireplace. “Lucy is shivering.”
“May I go in?” Samuel asked Sarah rather than the doctor.
“There is still blood. I have not finished cleaning.”
Samuel handed the babies to the doctor. “I don’t think it will bother me today.”
“Then I have no objection. Dr. Dawes?” Sarah asked.
Tim nodded. Samuel grabbed another warmed blanket and followed Sarah into the room.
Tim needed to check on Lucy, but he was holding both infants.
“I’ll hold them.” Louisa said from the rocker her father had just vacated. Tim had forgotten she was here.
“Keep them warm and close together.” Tim checked the infants’ breathing before hurrying into the bedroom.
Samuel sat at the head of the bed, whispering to his wife and brushing her hair. Tim felt like an intruder as he checked Lucy’s pulse. Sarah cleared the afterbirth and cleaned up most of the blood. Lucy’s shivering diminished, and her color remained good. When they finished, Sarah brought the babies in, and she and Tim left the new parents alone.
Louisa ran upstairs holding her handkerchief to her mouth as soon as Sarah and Tim exited the room.
A lamp sat in the center of the table. Tim lit it. “I’ve never seen a husband brush his wife’s hair.”
“Samuel’s father used to brush Emma’s hair. It’s one of the things I do––did—to calm her at night. What am I going to do without her?” Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes before Tim could follow through on his instincts to do it himself. “I love her so much. She has been—”
This time a sob racked Sarah’s body. Tim pulled her into his arms and let her cry. A hundred thoughts crossed his mind about what he could say. Most of them would be less than helpful—pointing out that if Mrs. Wilson had lived, she would not ever be the same or that he would most likely have had to amputate frozen fingers and feet. So he just held her until the tears subsided.
Tim’s relief at not needing to perform an amputation on Emma brought a new worry to his mind. “How are your feet?”
Sarah shifted her weight but didn’t answer.
He stepped back, holding Sarah by the shoulders. “Sit down and let me look at them.”
For a moment he thought she would argue. But like him, she must be too tired to protest.
He set the lamp next to him on the bench. “Are they still painful?”
“Mostly my toes and left ankle. I am glad you insisted I change my stockings earlier or I fear they would be worse. I was angry we weren’t searching instead, but it wouldn’t have mattered, would it?”
“I am glad you listened. I spoke harshly this morning. And, no, finding her even a half hour earlier most likely would not have saved her.”
“Was it only this morning?”
Tim wasn’t sure. He had been on his way home to sleep when Sarah had asked for help. A wave of tiredness washed over him. He released her left foot and picked up the other one. “Your toes are going to blister. Keep them wrapped, and see if you can borrow some bigger shoes.”
“That shouldn’t be hard. Everyone has bigger shoes than I do.”
“Not so. Just yesterday I set the leg of a seven-year-old boy, and I am almost positive his feet were smaller than yours.”
“I think I am too tired to care that you are teasing me about my size.”
Tim brought her foot up so he could inspect the bottom.
“Will you need to amputate my toe?”
Tim shook his head. “I don’t know yet. Only time will tell. It may only be partially bruised. I can’t say.”
“Emma did step on my foot last night.”
“Step or stomp?”
Sarah pulled her foot back. “Does it matter?”
Tim turned to give her some privacy as she put her stockings back on, then walked over to the bed where Emma’s body lay. Samuel had covered his mother’s head with the blanket. Tim realized he had never confirmed the death. He lifted the blanket, then replaced it. Going to where his bag still sat on the table, he reached in and took out his book and pencil. “The girls were born at 5:47 and 6:08. Do you know when Emma died?”
“Samuel knocked
on the door not long after the first baby came.”
“I am going to write that Emma passed at the same time, then.”
Samuel exited the bedroom. “They are all sleeping.”
A frown crinkled Tim’s brow. “Sarah, will you bring the babies in here? I am afraid they will be too cold, even with Lucy.”
Sarah took two flannel squares warming on the back of a chair with her.
Lucy stirred as Sarah lifted the larger girl from her arms first. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I am going to put them near the fire. They are so tiny they need to be extra warm.”
Lucy nodded. Sarah wrapped the second baby and returned to the great room, where Tim and Samuel sat at the table and Louisa ladled stew into bowls.
“Should I give some to Mama?” Louisa’s eyes were rimmed with red.
Samuel took the offered bowl. “If she wants it. If not, try to get her to drink some of the peppermint tea or cider, if there is any left from the fall.”
“I think it is all gone, but I can make apple-peel tea.” Louisa opened the cupboard and pulled down a crock.
Sarah turned to the men. “Doctor, did you still need to look at the babies?”
“No, I am just worried about their size. Let me help you get them into the cradle.” Tim took one baby and partially unwrapped her before laying her in the cradle, causing her to protest. He did the same with the other, placing her as close to her sister as possible. Both infants calmed, and he covered them.
Samuel watched in awe. “Benjamin and Bessie never did that.”
“Do you know if John and Joe did?” asked Sarah.
Samuel shook his head. “I don’t remember. I could ask—” He looked at the bed at Emma’s still form. For a moment Sarah thought he might break down, but he squared his shoulders. “I guess I can’t. I think we need a plan.”
The front door opened, and Lettie came in. She looked at the cradle and then to the bed where her grandmother lay and burst into tears. Samuel went to her and wrapped his daughter in his arms.