She lifted her head and glanced at Melissa. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Yep. Are you okay?” Melissa whispered back.
“Yeah.” They looked at each other for a minute, then Ophelia put her head back on her pillow. Melissa couldn’t help it—she reached out and stroked her niece’s—daughter’s—hair.
“Thanks for buying me,” Ophelia whispered. She took a shaky breath, and Melissa knew she was crying, and hugged her close.
“I can feel the baby,” Ophelia said after a minute.
“She can feel you, too,” Melissa answered.
“Is it a girl, then?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think so.”
The wind blew against the window. “A little sister. That’d be nice.”
A few hot tears slid out of Melissa’s eyes, but this time, they didn’t feel like those uncontrollable pregnancy tears. This time, they felt good. Like they were sealing the deal.
CHAPTER 32
Lillie
March was soggy and gray, but the wind carried the scents of spring like a promise. The wind still howled, but the smells of dirt and rain were in the air.
I went to the hospital one Tuesday to catch a baby—seriously, I almost missed it, because the mother dilated eight centimeters in two hours and only needed one push to birth her child into the world. After we got the mama settled and the baby tucked in against her, and I’d taken a hundred or so pictures for them, I went to fill out the necessary reports.
“Hey,” said Tonya, the admin. “Got a little news for you. Dr. Schneider’s taking early retirement.”
My head jerked up from the keyboard. “Say again now?”
Tonya lowered her voice. “Patient complaint. One of yours. You didn’t see it? Hang on a sec. You were cc’d. And there’s a viral video!”
She printed out two sheets of paper and handed them to me.
During my labor, I was calmly breathing through my contractions in the birthing pool when certified nurse-midwife Lillie Silva stepped out to get some food for my husband and me. For no reason we could determine, Dr. Carline Schneider interrupted without knocking. Without even examining me, she decided I wasn’t giving birth fast enough, was not progressing well, informed me that I was giving “poor maternal effort,” needed medical intervention and that I was endangering my baby’s life.
Fortunately, Nurse Silva intervened and escorted her from the room even as Dr. Schneider told me I would need an emergency cesarean.
She was wrong. A couple hours later, I joyfully gave birth to a very healthy baby, thanks to my midwife, who encouraged and helped me during this natural process. I could not have wished for a better birth experience except for the rudeness and inaccurate, outdated information from Dr. Schneider.
It was from Elizabeth and Tom.
“There’s a video, too,” Tonya said. “Elizabeth holding her baby, telling her birth story. Some of the big pregnancy blogs picked it up and are using it as an example of things not to say to a woman in labor and how outdated some OBs are.”
“Whoa,” I said. I blinked a few times. Tonya handed me an iPad, and I watched as Elizabeth, looking utterly gorgeous holding her little sweetheart, told it like it was.
“Everyone on the floor has watched it,” Tonya whispered. “We’re not exactly heartbroken that the old shrew is leaving.” She glanced over my shoulder. “So yeah, definitely Taco Heaven over Sam Diego’s,” she said loudly. “Can’t beat their guacamole.”
I turned. Carline Schneider, in the flesh.
“Well, if it isn’t Nurse Jenny Lee,” she said to me. “God forbid we actually use modern medicine to ensure the health of a mother and child as long as they can post their birth stories online. I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m so happy, Carline,” I said. “For one, Call the Midwife is my favorite show.” Tonya snickered. “For two, I did everything I was supposed to do as a midwife. You interrupted a perfectly beautiful labor, tried to intimidate my patient and misinformed her about the threat to the baby. And then you threw me under the bus, attacked my reputation, accused me of assault and got me suspended. So yes, I’m glad you’re leaving.” I put the complaint down. “Now. I have a new mama to see.”
Sometimes, you get those moments. Sometimes, the perfect words just roll off your tongue. Sometimes, you get to be right and have the last word. Not often, but sometimes.
* * *
Winter, in one last gasp to show who was boss, dumped six inches of snow on the Outer Cape, followed by freezing rain that made the snow impossible to walk on. The Heartbreak Storm, I always called it, because just when spring had finally arrived and the little crocuses and snowdrops were poking out of the ground, Mother Nature got that look in her eye. Every year. Zeus and I slipped and slid on the hard ice, barely able to make it to the beach so he could run. Tonight, it was supposed to be ten degrees out. Ten degrees! Bitter cold, and with a wind out of the north. I hoped my little daffodil buds would survive the cold. I’d planted hundreds over the years, and every spring, it was such a glorious surprise to see them pop, little balls of sunshine on stems.