The Midwife's Choice

by Delia Parr

  The infant gradually began to quiet. “There, there, sweet one,” Martha crooned. She used the tips of her fingers to smooth the mass of dark ringlets capping the baby’s head. After swaddling the babe in a soft blanket, Martha handed her to her anxious mama.

  Genevieve Harper, who was seated on her husband’s lap with the birthing stool supporting them both, put the newborn into the crook of her arm. “Oh, look, Devon! She has your chin. See? There’s a little dimple, just like yours.”

  To Martha’s right, Carrie stood, gazing at the new family. At twenty-nine, she was a wife and mother who had a particular gift for helping other women give birth and assisted Martha frequently, much like Martha had done at that same age for Grandmother Poore. Carrie was unusually tall for a woman, nearly six feet, and she had the stamina, as well as the will, to one day make an exceptional midwife. Since Victoria would not be following family tradition by becoming a midwife, which Martha now accepted, she could think of no finer replacement, when the time came, than Carrie North.

  Martha noted the subtle change in Carrie’s expression, heard Genevieve whimper, and got up from resting on her haunches to kneel up straight.

  Carrie took Genevieve’s free hand. “Hold on to them now,” she urged the new father.

  “It’s just the afterbirth. It won’t be as painful. Just take a deep breath and ride out the pain,” Martha prompted.

  Genevieve yelped and began panting the moment the pain ended. “Something’s . . . something’s wrong. It hurts. It really hurts,” she cried as she arched back and pressed her head against her husband’s chest as another pain wracked her body.

  “Try to relax. You’re only adding to the pain. It’s almost over,” Martha promised. The most exciting births, from her standpoint, were the ones where a couple welcomed their first child into the world. That’s why little Peter Clifford’s passing had been extra hard to accept.

  Women delivering their first child, however, were often frightened and bewildered, even prone to panic, since giving birth compared to nothing they had ever experienced. Martha’s role then became more of teacher than anything else and required great patience.

  Carrie looked down at Martha and nodded. “Here comes another pain. This should do it, don’t you think?”

  “Very likely.” She slipped her hands beneath Genevieve’s nightdress and placed them at the entrance to the birth canal. “Push this time, Genevieve, and you’ll be done. Now push!”

  Genevieve screamed.

  Devon looked frightened.

  Carrie held her hand tight.

  Martha felt a warm gush of fluid, then something solid began to emerge. Her heart began to thump against the wall of her chest. Fearing a tumor or mass of some sort, she edged closer. “Lift up her nightdress,” she requested, trying to keep her voice from shaking or frightening her patient.

  Using her free hand, Carrie scrunched up a section of Genevieve’s nightdress and tugged it up to the woman’s knees. With the opportunity to see what was happening now, Martha looked, blinked hard, and looked again. Both stunned and alarmed, she had no time to waste. “Push, Genevieve. Push hard!”

  “I . . . I can’t,” she wailed.

  “You can and you will. Right now. Push. Push!” Carrie ordered.

  After one push, Genevieve collapsed against her husband. Martha felt the mass slide free. Her hands trembled as she turned in place and brought the silent treasure to her lap, out of the direct view of her parents.

  With her heart racing, Martha snipped the umbilical cord, cleared the silent, tiny baby girl’s airways, and massaged her little chest. “Come on, angel. Take a breath. Please,” she whispered, dismayed by the blue tinge of the baby’s lips.

  Nothing. No sound. No movement.

  Then Martha saw a twitch, ever so slight, in the baby’s neck. She massaged harder, but was careful not to do any damage to the fragile bones beneath the cool flesh. She closed her eyes briefly and offered a prayer, begging for this baby’s life. Several heartbeats later, the baby began to cough and sputter. “That’s right. Fight, little one. Your big sister would be so lonely without you.”

  The babe opened her little mouth, filled her lungs with air, and emptied them with a fit of crying that told Martha all would be well. Trembling with happiness and gratitude, Martha bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, quickly wrapped the baby to keep her warm, and handed her to Carrie, whose eyes were as big as melons. “It seems you’re twice blessed today,” Martha told the parents, who had been shocked into total silence. “You were right about those pains. Much too hard for the afterbirth. You have a second daughter! She’s a mite, compared to her big sister, but she’ll catch up in no time.”

  “Twins? We have twins?” Devon Harper turned paler than his wife, who wept openly, unable to speak.

  “You do!” Carrie crowed. “I’ve never seen the birth of twins. This is amazing!” She placed the second newborn into Genevieve’s other arm and put a hand under the infants to help their mother support them.

  Genevieve looked thoroughly exhausted. Poor Devon looked a bit worse for wear himself. “We still have the afterbirth to contend with, but we’ll get you to bed as soon as we can,” Martha promised. “You need to get as much sleep now as possible. I have a feeling you’re going to need it. Do you have names for these little girls?” she asked to distract Genevieve during the last part of the birth process.

  Genevieve sighed. “We were both sure we were having a boy.”

  Martha chuckled to herself. Twin girls. What a surprise for everyone, including herself. And what a perfect ending to the day!

  To welcome two angels into this world together was a rare privilege indeed. She had not helped to deliver twins since the Matthews’ girls, also future members of the sisterhood of all women, had been born some three years ago.

  Thinking of that sisterhood, she wondered what was happening back at the confectionery. Had they all decided on a plan to help Nancy escape? If so, where would they send her and how? Martha suspected Fern and Ivy would probably help finance Nancy’s escape, but Martha did have some funds set aside she could offer. She also had the key to Thomas’s cabin, in case they needed a place for Nancy to hide temporarily, although the cabin was so far from town it might prove to be very dangerous should Russell discover the hideout.

  Samuel’s cabin, now empty, would be a more logical hideout. It was so close they could easily watch over Nancy. Most folks did not think twice about the recluse, especially now that he had gone. Even if they did, they would not venture near his cabin for fear he might return. Russell Clifford, a newcomer, would probably have no idea the cabin even existed.

  Anxious to get back to the confectionery to offer her suggestions to the others, Martha helped Carrie get Genevieve into bed with her twin daughters and finished the rest of her duties. There would not be a groaning party this time, since no one else had been summoned due to the weather, but there was going to be one very special prayer offered in a few moments to express their gratitude for these two baby girls.

  Just past midnight, Martha joined Carrie at the kitchen table to share a pot of tea. “She’s resting now,” she explained in response to the unspoken question in Carrie’s gaze.

  “Is this common in twin births?” she asked, clearly curious and as anxious to learn as always.

  Martha added honey to her tea and stirred the mixture. “Having twins is uncommon enough that I’m not really sure, but unusually heavy bleeding after delivery is always cause for concern. The lady’s-mantle should help, though.”

  Carrie let out a sigh. “I wish I could stay longer, but I really do have to go home in the morning. There’s been such a rush of babes lately, I’ve barely seen my own.”

  After swallowing a long sip of tea, Martha nodded.

  “I remember feeling the same way when Oliver and Victoria were little.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Seymour will be able to come. She lives right on the edge of town, so it wouldn’t be as difficult for her to
get here in this weather as it would be for someone living above the falls.”

  Martha shook her head. “I’m afraid she won’t be able to come. She has a . . . guest,” she responded. Unsure whether Aunt Hilda still wanted to keep her husband’s arrival home a surprise for next Sunday’s meeting, Martha decided to err on the side of caution.

  As a first-time mother, especially with twins, Genevieve very definitely needed an afternurse. Martha needed to get home, what with all that was happening, assuming she could get Genevieve’s bleeding under control.

  Carrie’s face lit. “What about Lucy?”

  “She’s attending Miriam.”

  “Oh.” Carrie’s expression filled with disappointment.

  Martha went through a mental list of women who usually served as afternurses, but as far as she knew, they were already on duty elsewhere. “I can’t think of anyone,” she admitted. “That’s what happens when you young people settle so far from home and family. If Genevieve’s mother lived nearby—”

  Carrie slapped the table. “That’s it! That’s who we can ask.”

  Martha eyed her skeptically. “Surely not Genevieve’s mother. She lives in Maine! By the time she got here, little Martha and Carrie would be crawling,” she argued. It still sounded strange to refer to the twins, who were now their namesakes, by their actual names.

  “Not Genevieve’s mother. Mine!”

  “Elaine? As far as I know, she’s never been interested in being an afternurse.”

  “But she has lots of experience,” Carrie argued. “She’s stayed with me after my babes were born, and she stayed with Anna and Rose, too. Now that Papa’s gone and Mama’s living with David and Anna, I think Mama would like to get away from time to time.”

  Martha chuckled in spite of herself. David and Anna’s four boys were famous, at least locally, for being the most rambunctious brood ever born and bred in Trinity. Elaine might very well want to take a breather. “She’d be perfect. Do you think she’ll come out in this weather?”

  Carrie’s grin widened. “With everyone there stuck inside? She’d probably crawl here if she had to. I’ll have Mr. Harper stop at David’s after he takes me home in the morning. David’s place isn’t that much farther up Falls Road.”

  “I’d better wait to leave until after she gets here,” Martha suggested, “just in case she’s not able to come for some reason. I don’t want to leave Genevieve alone, even if the bleeding’s slowed.”

  “She’ll come,” Carrie insisted.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” Martha said sincerely. “You’ll be a fine midwife on your own one day. Nothing would make me prouder than to have you take over when I’m no longer able to continue.”

  A flush started at the base of Carrie’s neck, spread up her throat, and stained her cheeks. A fine line of perspiration dotted her upper lip. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. . . .” Her eyes misted. “We had a letter last week from Joseph’s parents. His father isn’t well and . . . we’re moving to New Hampshire as soon as the weather permits. Joseph is going to take over his father’s mercantile business. He’s an only son. He has no other choice,” she murmured.

  Disappointed to the very depths of her spirit, Martha was also shocked beyond measure. She had become very fond of Carrie, and she would miss her immensely. In her mind’s eye, she saw Carrie and Joseph, along with their three children, joining the exodus leaving Trinity, and her heart trembled with sadness.

  “Of course he has a choice,” Martha countered, hoping to ease the younger woman’s obvious distress, “but he’s choosing well. He wouldn’t be the man I’ve come to respect since he arrived if he turned his back on his parents when they’ve asked for his help. I’ll miss you. All our patients will miss you, too.”

  Carrie sighed and wrapped her hands around her cup of tea. “I’m so torn. I never thought I’d move from Trinity. My entire family is here. My friends are here.”

  “It won’t be easy, but you’ll be fine. You’ll make new friends, I’m sure. You’ll come home for visits, won’t you?”

  “Joseph promised I could.”

  “We’ll see each other then, and we’ll write, too. In the meantime, let’s not waste a moment we have left. Tell me all about this mercantile store.”

  Three days later, Elaine finally arrived.

  By then, Genevieve was well on her way back to full health, although it would be months before she got a complete night’s rest. Twins Martha and Carrie were getting cuter by the hour, and the proud new father had a good start on building a second cradle.

  With the promise of a substantial reward after harvest next fall, Martha finally headed home. By now, whatever contribution she might have made toward planning Nancy’s future was no doubt moot.

  Nevertheless, she urged Grace to carry her home as quickly as possible, if only to still the worries in her heart that Russell Clifford might have caused trouble while she had been gone.

  30

  Loaded down with her bag of simples and her birthing stool, Martha trudged through the knee-high snow covering East Main Street as best she could and wished she had a place to stable Grace closer to the confectionery on the other side of the street.

  Only four days after the snowstorm hit, the business side of town had undergone quite a transformation. Wagon traffic, including the mail wagon that normally arrived each Tuesday, had packed down the snow in the center of West Main Street so the roadway was now passable. The planked sidewalk had been cleared, creating a mountain range of snow lining the roadway below. Folks were gathered in small groups, either enjoying a break from their errands or simply a chance to see neighbors and friends after being stuck inside their homes for days.

  The covered bridge was only a few yards away from her now and offered not only a respite from the wind, but surer footing. She had scarcely stepped inside when she heard footsteps thumping behind her.

  “Widow Cade! Wait! I’ll walk with you.”

  Martha turned toward the familiar voice and waited for Dr. McMillan to catch up to her.

  “Mrs. Andrews isn’t feeling very well, so I offered to go to the confectionery to purchase the bread today so she could rest a bit,” he explained as he got closer. “It’s nothing serious,” he added when Martha lifted a brow. He took her birthing stool. “Here. Let me help you. I take it you’re just returning from a call?”

  She smiled. “Genevieve Harper. Twin girls! Beautiful babes,” she responded and shifted her hold on her bag before they started off together.

  “All are well?” he asked.

  “The new mother is a little overwhelmed, but Widow Snyder is staying with her. The babes are doing very cleverly, although one is notably smaller than her sister,” she responded.

  “That’s fairly common, I believe,” he suggested.

  Martha shrugged her shoulders. “After all these years, I’ve learned not to judge anything as common. As soon as I do, I’m proven wrong.” As much as she might enjoy discussing the birth of twins with him, she was more anxious to speak to him about what Russell Clifford had been doing since she ordered him out of his wife’s room. She also remembered the doctor asking to speak to her about a personal matter, but she had been called out to the Harpers and had never had a chance to talk with him.

  When they reached the confectionery, the young doctor followed her into the foyer. The rooms on either side both held several patrons and offered no privacy. “You mentioned the other day you had something to discuss. I have time now; then perhaps you can tell me what’s been happening with Mr. Clifford while I’ve been gone. We can use the sitting room upstairs,” she suggested, careful to keep her voice low.

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Follow me.” She opened the door to the front staircase that led up to the sitting room. Once upstairs, she left him in the sitting room while she took her things to her room and stored away her cape as well. With all the bedroom doors closed, she could not tell if anyone else was upstairs, b
ut all was quiet and she assumed they were alone.

  When she returned to the sitting room, she found him standing with his coat still on and his hat in his hands. “This must be a short discussion you’ve got planned.” When his brows knitted together, she pointed to his coat.

  “Oh. Actually, I . . . I didn’t think it would take very long at all, but . . .” He let out a sigh. “This is harder than I thought it would be. You’re right. Maybe I should take this off.”

  After he removed his gloves and coat, he handed everything to Martha. She laid them on a chair. “Shall we sit down?”

  He nodded and took a seat across from the settee, where she sat down and waited for him to begin, with no small measure of anticipation pounding in her heart.

  He sat very stiffly with his hands gripping the chair’s arms and took a deep breath. “As you’ll recall, we didn’t start off on a very positive note when we first met.”

  “True,” she admitted. At their very first meeting, the night she returned from searching in vain for Victoria, she and the doctor had both been summoned to the same delivery—one Martha ultimately handled. “You were quite arrogant, as I remember,” she teased.

  His chubby cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “Yes, well, I recall a certain level of disdain on your part as well.”

  She chuckled. He was being kind. They had squared off as bitter combatants, each vying for the same patient, each a symbolic representative of outspoken proponents who took sides, either for doctors or midwives, in the raging debate over who better served a teeming woman. “You recall correctly.”

  “Since then, we’ve seemed to reach some sort of . . . truce. I’m indebted to you for your help, especially with the sketches and essays you’ve prepared.”

  She cocked a brow. “I was under the impression we had developed a friendship, as well as mutual respect,” she ventured.