See? Retirement. Microcephaly was a birth defect in which the baby’s head was too small, causing a wide range of health issues. And Carline said these things right in front of them! I gave her an evil look. “Elizabeth is full term, and the ultrasounds were perfect. Right this way, guys.”
We got to the birthing suite, which consisted of a birthing tub, obstetrical bed that could be broken down in the middle so the mama could squat or sit, stirrups if she wanted to labor on her back, handles to adjust herself, and a birthing bar she could grab or lean against. The bathroom had an absolutely lovely shower with room enough for the partner, if that’s what mama wanted.
There was the ultrasound and fetal monitoring equipment, suction, infant resuscitation table （discreetly tucked in a closet）， oxygen, nitrous oxide for pain control, couch, recliner, rocking chair, labor ball, state-of-the-art music system and adjustable lighting. Even flameless candles. Give me a kitchen, and I could live here quite happily.
I scrubbed my hands, put on gloves and waited till Elizabeth was ready for me to check her cervix. “One and a half centimeters,” I said, and she groaned. “Don’t worry. You can dilate really fast in some cases. In the meantime, do you want to put on your music? Have Tom rub your back?” She nodded, and her husband got to work.
Birthing plans were great, if fragile. They helped the mama feel more in control of a situation that could be overwhelming. For most women, this meant deciding on their support people, knowing who’d watch their other kids if need be, making a playlist, figuring out how to pass the time if labor was slow to progress. Elizabeth and Tom had been practicing hypnobirthing, which would help her relax and give her positive affirmations and visualizations, combined with deep breathing. Tom would massage her lower back for relief during a contraction. She wanted to walk the hall while she could, sit on the labor ball and maybe try to relax in the birthing pool, but she didn’t want a water birth. She’d try different positions while pushing to find the one that suited this delivery the best. After her son was born, she wanted to delay cord clamping for sixty seconds and wait a bit before he got the hep B vaccine, vitamin K to prevent clotting and eye ointment to prevent bacterial infection.
While Elizabeth wanted a medication-free labor, she was open to nitrous oxide and Demerol before she’d try an epidural. A C-section only if her life or the baby’s was in danger.
A perfect plan, in my opinion. She knew how intense labor was from her first go-round, and she wasn’t fixated on any one method. Well-rounded and well-thought-out. As Tom and Liz murmured to each other, I texted Ben and asked him to feed Zeus and, if possible, take him for a walk.
You got it, he texted back.
Seven hours later, Elizabeth still hadn’t progressed much . . . she was at four centimeters but handling the pain well, breathing through the contractions, which were strong and steady at five minutes apart. She was currently in the birthing pool. I checked the water temperature and occasionally put a cold facecloth on her forehead or neck, but tried not to intrude, either. They were doing great . . . Tom murmuring the phrases from the hypnobirthing meditation. It was a lot like yoga—breathing deeply, consciously relaxing your muscles, picturing lovely things, telling yourself your body was strong and capable.
Elizabeth seemed completely in the zone, eyes closed, breathing fine.
“I’m going to step out a minute,” I whispered to Tom. “Can I bring you something to eat from the cafeteria?”
“That’d be great,” he whispered back. “A sandwich?”
“You got it. I’ll only be ten minutes, and Nurse Jane is right outside if you need anything.”
I filled Jane in and waved to another midwife who had her own patient in labor. Women in labor didn’t usually want to eat, and in the olden days, they weren’t allowed to, on the off chance that they’d need a C-section under general anesthesia. But statistics showed that the chances of aspiration were minuscule, and a lot of us in the business actually wanted our mamas to eat a little snack to boost their energy. In the cafeteria, I waved to Isabel, one of my favorite OBs.
“How’s your mama doing?” she asked.
“Doing great. Beautiful labor so far. Are you on duty?” I hoped so, because the thought of having Carline interfere made my jaw clench.
“Afraid not. My wife and I are having dinner. It’s our third anniversary. I just needed a snack. It was a long night.”
“Congratulations! Have a great time.” I put two slices of bread in the toaster, then spread on some strawberry jam. Some carbs and a little sugar to give Elizabeth some energy. For Tom, I got an egg and cheese sandwich with sprouts on whole wheat bread and an apple. For myself, just a smoothie.