CHAPTER SIXTEEN
An Early Arrival
December 12, 1877
Victoria strode to where Jarrod stood. She pointed at Heath. "You're so full of energy tonight," she said, her eyes flashing, "you can go get Dr. Merar."
"Yes'm." Heath hurried into his room.
"I'll get Silas," Jarrod stated.
Margaret stepped back into the hallway. "Silas needs his rest," she said quietly, buttoning her robe. "What needs to be done?"
"We need some water boiled—a large pan and a smaller pan to sterilize the knife," Victoria answered. "Jarrod, you can get that-and bring a sharp knife up with you when you come back."
Jarrod nodded.
"And when you get that done, go up to the attic and get the cradle and the chest with the baby things in it. And the scale. The baby scale."
"Okay." Jarrod ran down the hallway to the backstairs.
Victoria looked at Margaret. "Get dressed, and I'll meet you back here. You can help me with the linens."
Margaret disappeared into her room just as Heath came out fully dressed, carrying his boots and running down the hall. "I'll be right back," he yelled as he took the stairs three at a time.
Margaret and Victoria both dressed in record time and met at the linen closet. Victoria loaded Margaret's arms with towels, washcloths, and extra sheets.
Nick's bedroom door remained open.
Margaret and Victoria placed some of the towels and extra sheets over the bed while Nick walked with Isabella.
"I want you to stay with me," Isabella said.
"Of course I'll stay with you." Nick eyed her worriedly.
"I mean through it all. I want to hold your hand the whole time."
Nick stopped walking. "I don't think that's legal."
Isabella chuckled, then hunched over again. Nick offered his hand, and she took it and squeezed. Hard.
He'd always been surprised by how strong she was, but now he wondered how many bones in his hands were broken. But he supposed it was only fair that he share some of her pain.
"Your bed is ready whenever you want it," Victoria said. "Is there anything I can get you? Some ice chips?"
"Not right now. Thanks."
Margaret moved to the corner of the room, her eyes wide, not sure if she should stay or leave.
Finally, Isabella hunched through a particularly long pain, then looked at Nick. "Help me to the bed."
Nick picked her up and placed her gently on the stacked towels. He fluffed a pillow and put it under her head.
"Pull that chair over here," Isabella said.
Nick grabbed the desk chair and moved it next to the bed.
"Now, you sit right there and hold my hand," she stated.
Nick looked at his mother. "Shouldn't I be downstairs waiting for someone to come and get me?"
"If your wife wants you here, then you stay here."
Nick looked at Isabella. "You don't really want me here, do you?"
"Of course I do," she said sweetly, then grunted. "Here comes another one." She reached out for his hand.
Nick bravely relinquished his hand for her to squeeze.
"Help me to breathe," she said. "Breathe in . . . . hold it . . . . breathe out," she instructed.
Nick breathed with her.
"Your turn." Isabella puffed a few short breaths.
"Breathe in," Nick said, breathing with her while she took a deep breath. "Hold it." He tried to figure out how long to hold it, but he figured when he needed to release, she did as well. "Breathe out."
Isabella squeezed his hand and puffed again.
Nick watched in amazement while her stomach stretched first in one direction and then in another.
"Breathe!" Isabella yelled.
"Breathe in," Nick said calmly, and this time continued the process until she stopped grunting.
Victoria handed a damp washcloth to Nick. "Wipe her face."
Nick accepted the cloth and gently patted Isabella's face with it.
Isabella's labor progressed quickly. Nick stayed by her side, helping her to breathe, continuing to allow her to squeeze his bruised hands, both thrilled and petrified to be a part of this amazing process.
It seemed like Isabella had been in labor for hours, but it had only been two hours.
"I gotta push," Isabella said suddenly.
Victoria took a look under Isabella's gown, then quickly scanned the room. "Margaret, I need you right next to me. Have a towel open and ready to wrap around the baby."
Isabella raised her lower back off the bed. Her face turned redder, darker, as she bore down as she pushed.
"Good," Victoria said. "I can see the head."
Isabella rested for a minute, then took a deep breath and again bore down.
"You're doing great," Victoria said. "You're just fine. Doing great."
Now it was Nick's turn to squeeze Isabella's hand. As soon as she again took a quick rest, Nick wiped her brow and kissed her forehead.
"Okay," Isabella said, and again pushed. She'd been mostly quiet throughout the labor, but now she grunted and growled. Her tiny hand wrapped around Nick's fingers.
He leaned over her, willing her to get through this.
"The head is crowning," Victoria reported. "Try not to push so much."
"Ea-sy . . . for you . . . to say," Isabella said between breaths.
Victoria smiled. "I know, dear, I know. But you also know that it's best to slow down a bit now."
"Where is that doctor?" Nick asked.
"He'll get here when he gets here," Victoria said calmly. "And Isabella is doing great. He couldn't do anything we're not doing."
Nick again stared at the contortions of his wife's stomach. He couldn't imagine what that must feel like.
"Baby's coming," Victoria announced. She took the towel Margaret handed her and gently supported the baby's head. "Cord's free," she announced to Isabella, letting her know it was okay to continue pushing. Another push, and the shoulders emerged, and then the rest slid out.
"Good job," Victoria said. She wrapped the towel around the baby, and, almost immediately, the infant boy wailed. Victoria smiled. "Good lungs. He sounds just like his daddy." She placed the wrapped baby on Isabella's chest, making sure the umbilical cord wasn't overstretched.
Tears rolled down Isabella's cheeks. "He's beautiful," she whispered.
Nick could only stare. He didn't know babies were so red and so wet and so bloody and so wrinkled and so scrunched up when they came out. He pushed Isabella's hair out of her face. "I love you, my beautiful wife," he whispered, his voice faltering.
"Doctor's here!" Jarrod yelled as Dr. Merar ran up the stairs.
Dr. Merar stopped in the doorway. "Looks like I'm too late."
"She had a quick labor," Victoria stated. "And she did great. But I'm happy to let you take over now."
"Let me wash my hands and I'll be right there."
Victoria smiled at Margaret. "You did a great job, too."
Margaret shrugged. "I didn't do anything."
"You did exactly what I needed you to do." Victoria smiled at the timid woman. "Why don't you go downstairs with Heath?"
Margaret nodded. "I'll come back and help you clean up. Just call for me when you're ready," she said as she hurried out the door.
When the doctor returned, Victoria excused herself to go wash up.
"Let's take a look at that young'un." Dr. Merar took the baby from Isabella. He unwrapped him. "Everything looks fine. He's breathing well and he has good color. He's a bit small—I'm going to guess around five pounds—but I suppose we should expect that when he's a month early." He winked at Nick.
Nick wasn't sure if he should punch the doctor or just be grateful for his healthy newborn. He glanced at Isabella's stomach. It was still large and it was still moving. "Is that normal?" he asked, pointing at her stomach.
"I'm still having contractions," Isabella answered. "I haven't dispelled the afterbirth yet." She moved uncomfortably, then made a face. "But those contractions aren't getting much easier."
Dr. Merar cut the umbilical cord and clamped it. He put a clean towel in the warm water and gently washed the baby.
Victoria returned and set out a diaper, baby gown, and receiving blanket. When Dr. Merar was finished, he handed the baby to Victoria.
Nick stood, ready to take care of the baby, but Isabella grabbed his hand and squeezed. He swung around and looked at her crimson face. "What's wrong?" He dropped into the chair.
"Just a bad contraction."
"Probably the placenta," Dr. Merar stated. "Let me take a look." He lifted the sheet. "Oh, my."
"What?" Nick jumped up, but didn't pull away from Isabella.
"It doesn't look like the placenta," the doc said without looking away.
"What does it look like?" Nick demanded.
"It looks like another baby."
"What!"
Dr. Merar calmly looked at Nick from where he stood at the bottom of the bed. "That would explain why she was so much larger than expected."
Nick stared at him, but before he could say anything, Isabella grunted. "Help me," she growled at Nick.
"Keep pushing," Dr. Merar stated. "The baby is crowning already."
Nick held her hand and spoke soothingly to her. "You're doing fine, sweetie. There's another baby."
Isabella released the push and rested for several seconds. Then she took a deep breath and pushed again.
"He's coming," Dr. Merar said.
"He?" Nick asked.
"Keep going," Dr. Merar coached.
Isabella bore down until she had nothing left to give. She finally dropped her head back on the pillow.
Nick grabbed the washcloth he'd used earlier and wiped her face. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
Isabella didn't answer. "I don't know if I can—"
"Yes, you can," Nick stated. "Just rest a minute."
"I need another long, hard push," Dr. Merar insisted.
"C'mon." Nick lifted her head, tossed the pillow, and moved a long leg around her. He scooted down behind her until she rested against his chest, and then he wrapped his arms around her.
Dr. Merar lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Let's push together," Nick said. "Take a deep breath . . . ." He took a deep breath and she did as well. "Now, let's push." He grunted and held her tight.
Isabella bore down, pushing with what little energy she had left.
"C'mon, sweetie," Nick said softly. "Keep going. Push."
After a long minute, Dr. Merar said, "I have his head. Rest for a minute, and then we'll get the rest of him out."
Isabella collapsed against Nick.
"Honey, are you okay?" he asked.
"Tired."
"You're almost done, sweetie. You're almost done."
"He's ready," Dr. Merar said.
Twins. Nick couldn't react. Not now. There would be time for that later. Right now, he just needed to get Isabella through this. He dabbed the washcloth over her forehead. He wished he could change places with her. That he could take her pain. Nick kissed the top of her head. "We're gonna have twins," he whispered. "We just got to get Number Two out."
She nodded weakly.
"I know you can do it. One more big push, and then you can rest. Okay?"
Without preamble, Isabella leaned forward, took a breath, and bore down.
"Good, good," Dr. Merar said. "The shoulders are out. And, there we go." He held the baby.
Isabella fell back against Nick.
"Nick, you need to move so Isabella can feed Number One," the doctor stated.
Nick kissed Isabella's head. "You did good, sweetie. You did great." He awkwardly circled his leg over her and slid out from under her. Then he grabbed the discarded pillow, added his to it, fluffed them, and put them under her head.
Victoria carried Number One to Isabella.
Isabella smiled weakly and took the baby.
"Victoria, I need some help here," Dr. Merar stated.
Nick looked up. Dr. Merar held the newest born. Instead of red, loud, and fighting like the first, this one was gray, silent, and still.
Victoria rounded the bed, pulling the sheet over Isabella's lower half as she did.
"Put a towel down." Dr. Merar nodded toward the bed.
Victoria did so.
Dr. Merar laid the infant on the towel and immediately put his finger in the baby's mouth, removing excess fluid. "Grab that bulb syringe out of my bag."
Victoria looked through the doctor's bag and found the device. She handed it to the doctor.
He suctioned more mucus and fluid out of the baby's nose and mouth. Still, the newborn lay motionless, silent, his skin a deathly gray.
Nick watched in horror, his knees weak. He wanted to do something—he needed to do something—but there was nothing he could do.
There was nothing anyone could do.
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