Naomi pulled off Carolyn’s temple garment bottoms, though Carolyn reached for them and folded them under one arm. I wasn’t sure why she thought she should keep them close to her. Did she think that would somehow protect her? Some Mormons cling to the idea that garments offered physical protection against harm, not just spiritual protection. In this case, I had no interest in taking any comfort away from Carolyn. She deserved everything she could hold onto.
Naomi opened the black bag that must have been Stephen’s and set out a tray by the bed, including a scalpel, a pair of medical scissors to cut the umbilical cord, and a clamp for the stump. She’d been away at school for years now—how long had it been since she had done a live delivery with her father?
I stayed beside Carolyn, trying to focus her on her breathing.
“The children?” she whispered hoarsely, when another contraction was over.
“They’re still asleep for now,” Naomi said, “but I woke up Esther to come over and help as soon as she could dress. She should be here before anyone wakes.”
And as she spoke, I heard the doors open downstairs and the sound of footsteps going into the kitchen beneath us.
Then there was another contraction to draw my attention back. It was a long one and Carolyn held my hand the whole time, pressing it to the point that it was almost all pins and needles. Good. If that helped her, it didn’t matter what it did to me.
“I feel like I’m almost ready to push,” Carolyn said, when she was done.
I helped move her hair out of her face, which was wet with sweat, and wiped her forehead with a towel by the side of the bed.
“I need to see how far you’re dilated,” Naomi said, and moved around to the bottom of the bed. “I’m putting my hand inside of you. I hope it’s not too cold. Just relax,” she said, trying to talk the other woman through each step.
She would be a good OB/GYN, I thought. I always appreciated the ones who talked me through what they were doing, instead of the ones who just took it for granted that I knew what was going on—or that I didn’t want to know.
“The baby’s things—are—in—nursery—one door down—left,” Carolyn gasped out, reaching for me. “Will you go get them?”
I glanced at Naomi, whose bleak eyes held mine for a moment, and then she nodded. I knew then that she had already diagnosed a stillbirth was coming. I had felt it in my heart before, and now I had confirmation in my mind. That was how the scriptures said you knew the truth, if it was in heart and mind.
I somehow managed to get to my feet. It wasn’t a graceful walk, but I made it down the hall, my heart pinched in my chest every step of the way.
The nursery was recently vacated, it seemed to me as I looked around, the crib bottom still down to its lowest notch, to keep a toddler contained, rather than up to make it easier to reach an immobile newborn.
I let out a little sob, away from Carolyn’s hearing, and then stuffed my feelings back inside. I grabbed the tiny sleeper, red with white trim, and the pack of diapers that were on the top of the baby dresser.
Then I heard a long, pained groan in the next room, and rushed out, holding the baby items to my chest.
“Go ahead and push, Carolyn,” Naomi was saying when I got back. “You’re fully dilated.”
Urgently, Naomi motioned me back to the bed and I put the things down on the floor next to us.
“Behind her,” said Naomi. “Help her with pressure to her lower back. She needs someone to help support her with each push. It takes a lot of strength to deliver a baby.”
Kurt had taken that position behind me during the births of our sons. With Georgia, too. His strong hands and the whisper of his voice in my ear came back to me. I missed him so much.
“Now, Linda,” said Naomi.
So I maneuvered myself into position and put my hands on Carolyn’s back. She groaned and pushed.
“Good. Rest for a moment,” Naomi said when the contraction was over. She brushed back her own hair impatiently.
The tears began to flow then and I didn’t even try to stop them anymore. There was no hope of that. I wept and I did what Naomi asked. I felt as if I were flickering back and forth between my own past and into Carolyn’s present.
Kurt behind me, weeping, the smell of his clean sweat as his body was pushed to its limits along with mine. And then the moment when Georgia came into the world, the moment that changed both of us forever. Sometimes I wondered if any problems I had, with Kurt, with the church, were really all related to that one moment when I had become broken, when our whole family had become broken.
Carolyn was delivered of a stillborn son three minutes later. He was tiny, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. It was not a pretty sight.