The Birthing
Adam paced while his father sat on the couch, drinking coffee. Adam's cup sat untouched.
Last night Adam had awoken and Zoe wasn't in bed. Adam looked around the room but she wasn't there. The room was still and the door to the hall shut. He climbed out of bed and pulled on his robe. He tied the sash as he took to the stairs and when he arrived at the bottom, he stopped and listened but all was silent. The room was dark. "Zoe? Zoe?" He considered that she might be in the kitchen but even though he saw no light, he looked in. She wasn't there and now he began to panic. "Zoe?" He called, fear crawling up his spine. Then he caught motion from the side of his eye and looked through the French doors to the porch. Zoe, in her gown and robe, was rocking in one of the chairs and looking out in the distance.
Adam opened one set of doors to the porch but Zoe didn't turn; she continued to rock and he heard her heavy breathing. He knew then that she was in labor because he had seen enough mares drop foals and cows birth calves; there was always the labored breathing and the fear in the eyes and the focus—the intense turning inward.
Adam dropped to his knees beside her chair. "Zoe, come in the house. It's chilly out here. You'll catch cold."
"It's almost time, Adam. It hurts more than I thought it would." Zoe stopped and her face contorted with pain and she held her abdomen with both hands. Then she began to breath heavily again.
"Zoe, come to bed. I'll go for Mrs. Shaughnessy. Please just come to bed." Zoe nodded and Adam helped her out of the chair and up the stairs. At the top, she doubled over again and stopped breathing until the pain passed. Then she began to pant.
Zoe turned her large eyes to Adam and he saw how very frightened she was. "Would you hurry, Adam?"
"Yes, as soon as you get into bed." He managed to get her into the bed and tucked the covers around her; he didn't know what else to do that was comforting. The sweat beaded on her forehead. "Zoe, stay here in bed. Please." Adam quickly dressed and kept glancing at Zoe but she seemed unaware of him or anything else. He told her that he was leaving but she didn't acknowledge she even heard him.
At a gallop, Adam rode to the Shaughnessy's. Mr. Shaughnessy had died years earlier but Mrs. Shaughnessy was quite a woman, having raised five children to adulthood after her husband passed. And now her three sons helped on the property and her daughters visited often. Shaughnessy was the midwife, nurse to the doctor when he needed one out that way, child-rearing consultant and all-around help when needed. Her only opposition was Hop Sing; he knew what was best for his family, he told her once when she came to help nurse Joe through bronchitis.
Adam pounded on the Shaughnessy's door non-stop until one of her sons answered.
As soon as he saw it was Adam and the look on his face, he said, "Is it her time?"
"Yes. It's bad. Can your mother…" but that was all Adam had to say for Mrs. Shaughnessy came to the door.
"You get home, Adam. Boil a big pot of water and gather towels—lots of them. Then sit with her until I get there. Mose will drive me over. Ty, go wake Mose and tell him to hurry and hitch up the buggy. Then go tell Mr. Cartwright his first grandchild is on the way, understand?"
"Yeah, Ma." Ty took off and Adam stared helplessly. "Now go do what I said, Adam. And you might as well make a big pot of coffee too. Now go. I have to dress and get my things."
Now Adam had direction; he had something to do so he rode home as quickly as he dared in the dark and threw open his front door and ran up the stairs calling, "Zoe? Zoe?" He rushed into their bedroom and Zoe was walking back and forth across the room.
"Zoe, get into bed. Please, Zoe." He held onto her arms and tried to guide her.
"I can't Adam, I can't. It hurts too much and I'll scream if I have to lie there. It feels like I can't breathe, like I'll die. Please." Her eyes were wide with fear and she was shaking. "I have to walk. I have to keep moving."
"All right." Adam stroked her face; he had seen fear before like this and he was seeing it again. "I have to put on water and coffee. Shaughnessy is coming. She'll be here soon. As soon as I'm finished, I'll come up and we'll walk together."
Adam hurriedly did what Shaughnessy had told him. He then gathered all the towels and blankets he could and took them upstairs. Zoe was leaning on the dresser, one hand propping her up, the other clutching her belly. Adam slipped his arm around her and supporting her, he walked with her up and down the room, pacing together. He tried to talk to her, thinking maybe simple conversation would soothe her but she asked him to please be quiet—not to talk. So he remained silent as she endured the pain.
"I'm here!" Adam heard Mrs. Shaughnessy's voice from downstairs and was relieved. He was afraid that he would have to deliver his own child and was afraid that he wouldn't be able to help Zoe, that he would hurt her and the child or worse, kill them with his clumsy attempts at helping. Animals had instincts but humans? If he was supposed to instinctually know what to do as his primal ancestors did, then he was far more advanced than anyone else, he sarcastically considered.
Mrs. Shaughnessy seemed to have a soothing effect on Zoe and together, she and Adam convinced Zoe to lie in bed. Then Mrs. Shaughnessy asked Adam to leave.
"But isn't there anything I can do? I need to do something—I can't just stand here helpless."
"If I need anything, I'll call for you," she said and shooed Adam out. Then he heard his father's deep voice calling to him.
"Adam? Adam, I'm here."
Adam wanted to stay outside his wife's door. "I'm up here, Pa."
Ben saw Adam, pale and frightened standing in the hall. Ben put his arm around Adam's shoulders. "C'mon, son. No one knows how long it will be; babies come when they're ready. When I came in I smelled coffee. If you've made some, why don't we go have some?" So with a backward glance to the closed door, Adam went down the stairs to the parlor and tried to sit and drink coffee with his father, but like his wife, he couldn't sit still.
After two hours, Shaughnessy came halfway down the stairs. She looked haggard. "Adam, we don't have enough time to get the doctor so I need you to help me deliver this child."
Adam looked up at her. Then he started up the stairs and Ben followed. But Adam practically gasped when he saw Zoe. Her hair was soaked with sweat and her gown was wet and stuck to her. She clutched the sheets in her fists and twisted them as she made low, keening, guttural sounds. Her heels were digging in the mattress with her knees partially drawn back—she had obviously been pushing hard and was exhausted.
"What do I do?" Adam asked Mrs. Shaughnessy.
"Okay, Adam. Listen to me. We need to get that child out now. I've been listening to its heart beat and it's not good. I need you to push down on her belly, to physically move the child out, understand?"
"Not really, but I'll try." He started to place his hands on Zoe's abdomen but stopped. "What if I make it worse?"
Shaughnessy stared at him. "It can't get worse." So Adam knew. He nodded and placed his hands on both sides of Zoe's belly and began to push. He was amazed that he could actually feel the child's body, the rounded buttocks, and began to push the child down and hopefully out but the angle was awkward.
"Wait, Shaughnessy," Adam said. "Let me get behind her."
"Adam," Zoe said between her groans of pain and gasping for breath, "what are you doing?"
"Trust me," he said. "Please trust me." Adam crawled on the bed, positioning Zoe so that her back was against his chest as he sat against the headboard.
Shaughnessy's eyes opened in recognition of what Adam had in mind. "Now I should have thought of that. Let me know, Adam, when you're ready." And Shaughnessy positioned herself at Zoe's raised knees.
"Reach back and put your hands around my neck; hold on to me," Adam instructed his wife. Zoe reached up and back and Adam placed his hands, palms flat against her abdomen. "Now," he said to Shaughnessy.
Shaughnessy urged a weary, defeated Zoe to push and Adam did as well. He whispered to her, "I'm here, Zoe. I'm pushing too. C'mon, girl, screw up all that stubbornness you own and use it to push out this child. I'll help you. Now let's push together... "
And Zoe gritted her teeth and with a heavy push and with the help of the pressure of Adam's hand, there was a sound of fluid bursting forth and Shaughnessy delivered a boy, a blue-skinned, still and silent boy. Adam stared, barely breathing himself.
"My baby," Zoe said, letting go of Adam and reaching out for the child. "My baby, I want my baby."
"Wait, Zoe, wait," Adam said, reaching out and taking her hands in his. He made soothing noises to comfort her.
Mrs. Shaughnessy held the child by his feet and gave the soles a sharp smack. Fluid ran out of the child's mouth and Shaughnessy gave the soles of the tiny feet another smack and the child cried and shook. Shaughnessy wrapped the infant in a towel, cut and tied off the cord and rubbed it vigorously. The child howled and slowly the blue tinge left its lips and skin and the more it howled, the rosier it became.
Adam laughed in relief. "Oh, Zoe, he has quite a set of lungs on him." Zoe reached back and held Adam's neck with one hand.
"Yes, he does." She took her hand away and reached out with both her arms. "My son. Please, I want my son."
Shaughnessy took the infant from the towel and wrapped it in a small blanket that had been a gift and handed the still-whimpering infant to Zoe. Adam still sat behind Zoe and with the child in Zoe's arms, he held his world.
"Look, Adam," she said, "he's so beautiful." She leaned down and kissed the infant's forehead. Then she moved part of the blanket back and held one it's tiny fists. Adam, with his arms around them both, kissed Zoe's damp hair. He didn't know what he felt; relief, love, adoration, hope, and fear were all mingled together. Here was a human being for whom he was now responsible and Adam felt the mantle of fatherhood heavy on his shoulders.
Shaughnessy started cleaning up and Zoe fell asleep in Adam's arms, still holding the baby. Without waking Zoe, Adam disentangled himself and climbed off the bed.
"Thank you, Mrs. Shaughnessy, for all you did. I don't know how to repay you."
"Paugh! I do this 'cause you're neighbors and friends and there's a need. I delivered all my children by myself and I should've learned something from that. But I tell you, Adam, I don't think that child would've been born alive it if hadn't been for you." And Shaughnessy patted Adam on the arm. "Now you go down and have a cup of coffee with your Pa. Once I have the place cleaned up, you can bring him up here to see the child. Have you thought of a name?"
"Yes. Micah. His name is Micah."
"Micah. Micah Cartwright." Mrs. Shaughnessy said the name to herself one more time. "A nice name—a strong name. Now get out and let me finish."
Adam smiled; he felt wrung out and weak but he went downstairs to tell his father that Micah Stoddard Cartwright had been born and was thriving in the arms of his mother.
TBC