*
Every hour, Dr. Jones returned to review Jane’s progress. When Jane’s report on the frequency of the bearing pains made her brow furrow, the doctor asked her to lie down on her left side upon the room’s narrow bed. Humming a little, Dr. Jones turned to the table and opened a small pot of oil, which she lavished on her hands. “This will be uncomfortable.”
She was entirely correct.
After longer than Jane liked, Dr. Jones pulled back and wiped her hand upon one of the linens. “The baby is breach.”
Jane felt the blood drain out of her face. Nkiruka said a word in Igbo that Jane suspected was a curse.
Only Vincent looked at a loss, his brows drawn up in worried confusion. “What does that mean?”
“It means that the baby is presenting feet first, so the birth will be more difficult. I am very sorry. It is sometimes a complication of bed rest, that the infant does not turn head down.” Dr. Jones folded the towel and blew out her breath in a huff. “I am going to visit my other patient and instruct the midwife that she will need to finish with her. When I return, things will be unpleasant, but we should be able to deliver the baby safely.”
“Should?” Vincent took a step closer to Jane.
“Yes. It is fortunate that the baby is early, since it will be small.” With that encouraging sentiment, Dr. Jones set the towel down and took her leave.
*
As Dr. Jones promised, the next several hours were not pleasant.
*
Jane sat on the birth stool with Dr. Jones on a low seat in front of her. Vincent sat on a taller chair at her back, bracing her with his hands on her sides as she strained with the bearing pain. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she waited for it to pass.
Panting, she ground out, “Are my eyes crossed?”
“What?”
“Do my eyes cross during bearing pains?”
“Um.” He leaned forward around the edge of the chair. “No.”
“Ha!” Jane glanced at Nkiruka, who stood at her side with a cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow.
The older woman chuckled. “Now you turning purple in the face.”
Dr. Jones cleared her throat. “That much is true.”
“Lovely— Ah!” Jane had wanted to get through the birth without crying out, but that proved to be impossible.
*
Well past noon, sweat-soaked and panting as if she had been working glamour for days, Jane leaned her head back against Vincent during one of the respites between her bearing pains. Those had become fewer and shorter. The glamour in the ceiling had shifted with the sun to become a cerulean sky with downy clouds drifting across it. Jane watched one of the clouds simply because it was moving.
Vincent’s arms around her had been a constant comfort during this ordeal, for which Jane was grateful. “I think every man should be required to sit with his wife during labour.”
“If that were the case, there would be a significant number of only children.” He kissed her cheek. “No man who loves his wife could possibly want to make her endure this.”
She patted his hand. “Next time will be easier. Or so I have been told.”
Nkiruka nodded. “Dat’s true. My last baby dropped out after only two hours. I almost didn’t have time to know I was labouring.”
“Speaking of…” Jane closed her eyes and braced again as the next pain came.
*
There then passed a period of time in which Jane said many unutterable things.
*
The afternoon sunlight had flooded the room. Dr. Jones looked up from her stool and gave them a smile. “Ten toes and healthy colour.”
“What?” Vincent leaned forward as if he could see past Jane’s bulk to her nethers.
“The feet are out.” She looked down and moved her hand. “And when I touch them the toes curl, so everything is going well.”
Jane began weeping with relief. She was too tired to be annoyed by her tears. With the sweat covering her, she doubted anyone would notice the addition.
“But this means that I need you to push in earnest now.” Dr. Jones had sweat upon her forehead as well. “When the next pain comes, you must bear down. I will guide the baby.”
Guide was a gentle word. What followed was not. Jane strained to push with her entire body. She clenched her fists, and her face, and everything, trying to push this child out of her. She gasped for air, pushing, and pushing, and pushing.
By her ear, Vincent murmured, “There, there…”
“Do not ‘there, there’ me!” She fairly snarled. “And do not even think of kissing me to make it better.”
He pulled back a little. Jane could not see his face, but it must have had some alarm on it, because Nkiruka chuckled. “She doing good. Na bite you yet.”
“Yet.” Jane drew in another breath with which to push. “Give me time.”
Dr. Jones said, “You are doing well … just keep pushing.”
“I am pushing.”