AN: Here's the second part to this one. There's another piece to come.
I do hope that you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
And Happy New Year!
111
Seth wasn't foolish enough to think that Jessica was staying put in any one place for now, and he also wasn't foolish enough to argue with her.
Seth had delivered so many babies in his life that, honestly, he'd lost count of how many he'd brought into the world over the years.
He had delivered many of the babies born in Cabot Cove since his arrival there as a doctor. This was especially true of the winter babies, since the weather could be unpredictable, at best, and there were plenty of times when a mother couldn't make it to the hospital, but Seth would find a way to make it to her.
Seth had delivered babies in beds, in bathtubs, in cars, in hospitals and, every now and again, even in public places when the little one wasn't going to wait for any other arrangement.
Thankfully, most of the births that Seth had assisted in had gone smoothly—or relatively so. Many that had seemed to take a turn, here or there, he'd been able to turn back around. Unfortunately, though, he had experienced the things that most doctors faced, at one time or another, though they never wanted to do so.
Losing even one was too many.
Seth had seen too many mothers draw their last breath—practically trading their own life for their child's life. He had seen too many mothers that never saw their little one or, in seeing them, closed their eyes for the final time with the vision of their little one as the last they held. He had faced too many husbands with apology on his lips, and the acknowledgement that life wasn't fair and, often, was as cruel as it was wonderful.
Seth had brought too many babies into the world that had never drawn a breath, no matter how hard he'd worked to make it so. He'd held too many lifeless bodies and mourned the fact that they would never know the wonders of this world—good or bad. He had handed too many bundles to already-grieving mothers, and delivered the news that no parent ever wanted to hear.
The sound of a mother's cries, in that moment of truly profound grief, was a horrifying sound all its own.
Birth and death were awe-inspiring, and they were, too often, too closely intertwined like the gnarled roots of some trees—the tree of life, perhaps.
Seth didn't consider himself a particularly religious man, but he was given to praying in certain moments—and, admittedly, he was given to praying hardest in moments of birth and death.
Seth had delivered many babies. He had tended many women in their hour of need, as they brought new life into the world.
And not a single one had ever mattered to him quite like this one.
Seth boiled every tool that he might possibly need, in order to sanitize them, and he placed them on the clean cloth that he'd put across a baking sheet. He listened to the sounds of Jessica moving around upstairs, and he laughed to himself. She wasn't going to hold still—not until she was good and ready to do so, if that moment even came. He wasn't going to fight with her about it, though.
Seth had delivered many babies, and he had some beliefs that, perhaps, not a lot of the doctors his age shared, but he'd always been a bit radical in his views about birth.
Birth was a perfectly natural thing, and every animal did it—the human kind included. There was no need to approach it as anything less than something that was absolutely hard-wired into humans, just as it was hard-wired into other animals that must do it in order to procreate.
A woman, he figured, had a right to labor any damn way she pleased, as long as there was nothing that must be immediately attended to for the good of mother or child. He also knew that, if that were the case, most mothers were more than happy to indulge anything their doctor needed.
Since the dawn of time, Seth figured, women had been laboring as they wanted. Women in times gone-by had given birth in fields, even. They had given birth standing, sitting, squatting, and lying down—however they most felt inclined to do so.
Far be it for Seth, as a person who would never give birth, to tell a woman how she must labor and deliver, if it was possible to accommodate her without causing threat or harm to either of his patients.
And for all the doctors that would disagree with him for one reason or another, attempting to practically tie women to the birthing bed, Seth knew that each and every one of them would, if they were entirely honest, have to admit that there was some fallacy in their practices.
Throughout pregnancy, Seth encouraged his patients to move their bodies. Maybe they ought not overdo it, and maybe their activities ought to be somewhat carefully chosen, but the fact remained that the women he treated who tended to have the easiest pregnancies and births were those who were most able to keep up with their physical health. Strength was a good thing, as were flexibility and stamina.
If a woman wasn't starting labor when she ought to, Seth encouraged movement. It got things going, most of the time, pretty effectively. If a woman's labor wasn't advancing, Seth encouraged movement. Gravity, after all, often worked just as one might think it would. If a baby got stuck, as sometimes they did, a little movement could help to shift things without the need for harsher intervention.
Seth would not tie Jessica down. His only request, while he readied things downstairs, was that she stay away from the staircase, for his own peace of mind, but he gladly gave her freedom to choose how else she occupied her time.
Through several trips, Seth gathered what he needed. He brought everything to the bedroom, where he imagined they would end up, even if they didn't spend the entire time there. Then, satisfied that he'd done all that he could do, as nothing more than a mere mortal, to prepare for what lie ahead of them—something that would happen only as nature intended it to happen—he set about finding his wife, who had wandered off to the nursery again, to prepare with her for the miracle that lie ahead of both of them.
He only took a moment, as he stopped in the doorway of their bedroom, to pray that there would be nothing but celebration for them both.
111
As the hours passed, Jessica's labor progressed exactly as Seth hoped it would, if not a little more quickly than he expected. He observed her, as he often did with his patients, for the first part of her labor—when her instinct was kicking in and she was in communication, deep inside herself, with the most primal part of her that existed.
Every woman he'd ever helped deliver had been different, but many had things in common.
Jessica was a busy laborer. She had wandered around the nursery—because that's what it appeared like she was doing to Seth—and she had moved things around. She had made little stacks of things for the baby, torn those stacks down, and made new stacks. She had touched, by his calculations, everything intended for their daughter at least three times.
She had straightened their bedroom. She had rummaged through the linen closet and offered Seth so many towels and sheets that, despite the fact that he was certain that they would need quite a few before everything was done, he couldn't imagine what he would do with all that she'd given him. She had made a list—verbal and scratched on a pad, in penmanship he was sure she couldn't read later, thanks to the fact that several contractions had come in the time that she'd insisted on spending on her list—of all the new linens they would need, because theirs were old and, clearly, they needed to freshen things up a bit. Seth might have pointed out that this was of absolutely no importance at the moment, but it was Jessica who was doing the real work of bringing their daughter into the world, so he decided that she could focus on what made her happy.
She took an unnecessary amount of time straightening the guest room that Grady used when he visited—even though it had already been made ready for him—and made sure that everything was in place. She left linens for him, too, so that they were ready for his first shower and such. Seth didn't point out that Grady may not want to stay with them while they were tending a newborn.
Instead, he simply followed Jessica around—keeping mostly quiet, as she seemed to prefer—while she did whatever task kept her happy and occupied.
When the contractions came, Seth noticed that Jessica seemed to go into herself. Some women did, and she was certainly one of them. He didn't know where she went, so deep inside her own mind, and he didn't ask. It wasn't for him to know, if she didn't offer to share.
When she asked him to do so—and several times she asked—he held her. In those moments, quiet with her, listening to the sounds that she did make—noises much like different variations of humming—Seth closed his eyes and focused on the sanctity of the moment and the truly profound love that he had for the woman in his arms. He wasn't often a poetic man, by his own admission, but he recognized the miracle that was taking place—the transformation that was in progress for all of them.
Every Hazlitt in their home was in the process of "becoming."
Seth treasured the moments when Jessica wanted him to hold her. He did his best to hold her just the way he hoped that she was dreaming he might.
If she was dissatisfied, she never said so, and it didn't lead her to ask him to stop holding her—at least, not until some need inside of her required her to move once more. Seth didn't take those urges personally, either.
After a very long while, Seth lured Jessica into the bathtub. He lit candles for her, because he knew that she enjoyed that. He rubbed her feet, massaged her hands, and rubbed her belly when she asked him to do so. He refreshed the warm water without her asking, and he respected the silence that she seemed to need. Their bathroom was filled only with the sounds of water moving as Jessica moved, when her body required it of her, the sounds of her breathing, and the sounds of the humming that seemed to be her vocal response to her laboring.
It was peaceful enough that Seth relaxed against the edge of the tub, dozing a little, his hand loosely holding hers as she'd requested—there for her to squeeze when she desired.
He was aware that this bathroom had been a place where Jessica had delivered before—though under very different circumstances—and he was happy to bring some peace to the space that had never quite been there before. At the moment, with Jessica laboring well, he thought that he could sense something almost like the very air around them becoming lighter.
When Jessica indicated that she was ready to leave the tub, Seth already knew—by instinct alone—that her time to deliver was near. He helped her out, urging her not to even worry about clothing at all. He dried her, himself, so that the air wouldn't make her cold, and he led her into the bedroom.
Jessica placed herself on the bed, accepting only pillows and refusing Seth's offer of a blanket or sheet. The contractions came faster, harder, and they clearly lasted longer. There was nothing that Seth could do for her, really, except what he'd been doing. He stayed with her and offered her whatever support she wanted—holding her hand, running his fingers gently up and down the inside of her arm to help distract her and draw her attention away from the pain and, finally, he began to quietly offer her support—as long as she didn't ask him to stop talking—by whispering encouragement to her about how wonderful she was doing, how very close they were to meeting their daughter, and what a wonderful mother she was, already, and would soon be.
The change in Jessica was obvious.
Seth saw when she went, in his personal opinion, a bit wild in the eyes, as some women did.
He didn't scold her when she lost the quiet control that she'd kept over everything and began to insist that she wasn't going to be able to do this. She wasn't capable. She couldn't do what was required of her.
He simply reminded her that she was already doing it, and that the way that she felt was entirely normal and expected.
He barely had to encourage her, really. He did it only to make her feel better, and to feel supported. She was already doing what she needed to do. When it was time for Seth to focus, because it was truly the time when he needed to be most hands-on with the whole situation, Jessica was naturally quite focused on her part of the task at-hand.
Seth didn't have to encourage Jessica to push as much as he had to encourage her to slow her pushing, and let things happen a bit more gently so that her body could do things at its more natural pace. He couldn't take any of it from her. The only thing that he could do was offer her words of comfort and encouragement, promising her that, very soon, she would see the very literal fruits of her labor. Seth helped as much as he could, easing their daughter's passage into this world as carefully as he ever had before—more so, perhaps, because mother and daughter were precious to him beyond compare and beyond all of humankind.
And when the baby girl came fully into his arms, he took her in for one brief second—whole and, at a glance, healthy. He breathed a sigh of relief as he helped her draw her first breath. Without taking time to examine her, because there would be time for that when he'd finish making sure that her mother was as healthy as he believed her to be, Seth halfway wrapped the baby in the closest blanket that he could reach, to keep her from being too cold, and placed her in Jessica's arms, so that she could hold the baby while he attended to her needs.
Jessica was still getting her breath. She'd closed her eyes tightly, perhaps out of fear. She relaxed, a little, when the baby screamed out in response to her first breath of air.
She was still panting, slightly, when Seth placed the bundle in her arms—a bundle that weighed a little less than he'd expected, but still weighed enough that he didn't fear for the baby's health.
"Is she OK? Is she OK?" Jessica repeated, almost like a mantra.
She was in shock, to some degree, and would need time and care, like any brand-new mother. They had plenty of time, and Seth was looking forward to caring for both of the ladies in his life.
"You did good, Jess," Seth said softly. "You did real good, Woman. I've got to clean you up, but…not to worry. It's safe, Jess. It's all over. Open your eyes. Look at our baby girl."
