With the baby in my arms, I hesitated. It had been so long since I delivered a child with a doctor present, I’d forgotten the protocol. I always gave the baby straight to its mother, to allow it to be comforted by her smell, her touch, but from memory, doctors liked to examine the baby first.
“Give her to her mother,” Patrick said. “She wants to meet her parents before she sees my ugly mug. And there’s obviously nothing wrong with her lungs.”
I didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that Patrick was disproving so many of my preconceptions about doctors.
We moved Gillian to the bed, and I placed the baby, still covered in vernix and blood, on her mother’s stomach. Neva stood at Gillian’s side, rubbing the baby with a warm towel. I watched the scene, holding my breath. Gillian lifted the towel from the baby’s face to look at her daughter. I thought about saying something, but decided against it. They needed time.
“Oh!” Gillian said eventually, in a half sob. She tried to swallow, blinked back tears. “Her face.”
I nodded to Neva to come and take my place at the end of the bed. The placenta was still to come, but I had to be with Gillian. I joined her at the head of the bed and gazed down at the newborn squirming on her mother’s breast.
“Oh, Gillian.” My hand flew to my mouth. The baby’s top lip rose to meet the base of the left nostril, leaving a gaping black hole in the center of her face. The rest of her face was fine—perfect, in fact. I peeled the towel back farther, revealing ten perfect fingers and toes, and a big round belly. She squinted up at us crossly. My heart exploded. “She’s … beautiful.”
I couldn’t keep the beam off my face. Neva was smiling too, but she wasn’t looking at the baby. She was looking at me.
“She is beautiful,” Gillian said, as if seeing her for the first time. “Look, David. Look at her little hands and feet.”
I smiled as the new parents marveled at their new daughter. Had it really been twenty-nine years since I’d done this myself? Just like then, these parents had fallen hopelessly in love with their child in an instant. Everything was as it should be.
“Okay if I take a look at her?” I stood back as Patrick approached.
Gillian closed her arms around her daughter. “Do you have to take her?” A look of fierce protectiveness covered her face.
“Maybe just another few minutes, Patrick?” I asked.
Patrick smiled. “I’m not taking her anywhere. I can examine her right where she is, if that’s okay. It’s the best place for her, right next to Mom.”
Gillian loosened her grip slightly. She nodded. “Yes. That’s okay.”
“Good. Now, let me see.” Patrick opened the towel. “Hello, beautiful.”
Neva was watching Patrick. Her expression was soft and unguarded.
“Does she have a name?” he asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“Okay, well, I’m just going to have to call you ‘little one.’”
Without removing the baby from her mother, he did a once-over, listened to her lungs, checked her reflexes. “Good. Very good.”
Patrick smiled throughout the examination and when he was finished, he rewrapped her towel. “I’m sure you’re anxious about the lip, so let’s talk about that first. The good news is that we can do a lot with surgery. The operation is very common, and very successful. The palate is a little more complicated, but the prognosis is good.…”
Patrick continued, patiently answering the parents’ questions in layman’s terms, not a trace of the arrogant brush I liked to paint doctors with. He was so likable. I sidled up to Neva, who was inspecting the placenta in a kidney dish. “So—?”
Neva didn’t even look up. “No. He’s not the father. And I’m not interested.”
“All right. All right.” I held up my hands. “Keep your hair on—”
“Anyway, he’s not the type to settle down with one woman. Why would you, when you can have them all? For God’s sake, you’re already in love with him! Can you imagine how it is around the hospital?”
I nodded slowly.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…”
“Spit it out, Grace.”
“Well, he did drive an awful long way, in the middle of the night, to help you out, Neva. And you were very comfortable asking him to do that. Maybe there’s more going on than you—”
“Grace?” Patrick approached from behind, and Neva studiously returned her attention to the placenta. “I’m going to arrange for a transfer to the local hospital,” he said. “I want the baby to be looked at sooner rather than later.”
“Already?” I said.
“We can’t!” Neva said. “Gillian has a tear that needs stitching.”
“Well,” Patrick said. “I could always take David and the baby—”
“No.” Gillian crossed her arms over her baby. “If she’s going to the hospital, I’m going too.”
I smiled. The mother’s instinct was primal, even after just a few minutes. “Okay,” I said. “We can tend to the stitch at the hospital. Let me just clean you and get you some fresh pads and we can go. Where’s your other daughter? Is there someone you’d like me to call?”
“She’s with a neighbor,” David said. “I’ll go get her once we know everything is okay here.”
Neva had already got some pads down from the cupboard and was filling a dish with warm water. “I’ll stay, Grace,” she said. “I know all the birth details, I can write the notes and clean up here. You go with Gillian. I’ll call the hospital and let them know you’re coming.”
A few minutes later, we loaded Gillian, David, and the baby into my car. Patrick started up his own vehicle, ready to follow us there. Neva held my car door open for me. “Good luck.”
I gave her a chaste kiss, and she caught my waist and pulled me into a quick hug. “You did good today, Grace,” she said into my ear. “And you were right. It was magic.”
Before I could gather my thoughts enough to speak, she was striding back toward the house.