The Amish Midwife by Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould Read Free Book Online Page B

was much fuller than when I saw her last, more than a month ago, and her belly stuck straight up in the middle of the bed.
    “Good,” I answered. “How are you?”
    She shook her head. “You have to tell me about you first. You were off work for three weeks. I was terrified I might have to go through this without you.”
    “My father passed.” Unwanted tears sprang into my eyes.
    “Oh, Lexie.” She reached out her hand. “I’m sorry.”
    I was glad that her husband, an up-and-coming executive, wasn’t there to witness my being so unprofessional. “It’s okay,” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze and then withdrawing it. “It was expected.”
    “But still…”
    I nodded and then forced myself to smile. “Have you had your epidural?”
    “Just.”
    “And where’s the hubby?”
    “In the cafeteria.” She laughed. “Lucky him.”
    Food was another one of the differences between a home birth and a hospital birth. At home the mom could eat yogurt and fruit and soup to keep up her strength. In the hospital, with one in three births ending in a C-section, food was withheld because a full stomach could be a sick stomach in surgery.
    The monitor beeped, and Jane and I both looked at it. She was having a contraction—a good strong one. She held up her arms and waved her hands. “I hardly feel a thing,” she said. “Just some pressure.”
    Some people have a memory for faces. I have one for births. Even though Jane’s first baby was 235 births ago, I remembered his arrival perfectly. She had arrived at the hospital too late to have an epidural. That was her top priority this time.
    “Who’s with Jackson tonight?” I asked.
    “Grandma. My mom. She’ll bring him up in the morning.”
    Jane and I chatted a little longer, and then I headed back across the hall to check on Tonya.
    She was on the bed now, sitting cross-legged.
    “Do you want a drink of water?” Tammy asked.
    The girl frowned and shook her head.
    “How’s it going?” My voice was subdued.
    “Fine,” Tonya growled, stretching out one leg and then the other. The monitor showed a contraction coming on. I waited to see what she would do. It didn’t take her long to climb off the bed with her mom’s help. Her face contorted, and she took a deep breath. Tammy stepped behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. I expected the girl to push her mother away, but she didn’t. She groaned a little as the contraction ended.
    “Let’s check you.” I helped her back onto the bed.
    She was at ten centimeters, ready to push. She was a trooper, not what I’d expected at all.
    “I’m almost there?” she asked.
    “We’ll soon see. It’s different for every—” I almost said
mom
, but because she might be relinquishing the baby, I said, “—one. Sometimes a woman pushes for quite some time.” Up to three hours. “But other times the babydelivers after just a few pushes.” I didn’t add that was usually the case for second and third babies. I took off my gloves, dropped them into the garbage, and then decided to stay with Tonya for the next few contractions to see how quickly things went. It would be hours before Jane delivered.
    Every once in a while I offered a word of encouragement while Tammy bustled around, dimming the lights, offering Tonya water, and timing each contraction. Even though she had the urge to push, it wasn’t strong yet, not the way it would be soon. She leaned back against the pillows on the bed, her painted nails resting atop her belly, between contractions.
    “Here comes another one,” Tammy said, switching her gaze from the monitor to the clock. Tonya pressed her hands down on her knees and pulled forward. I stepped to the side of the bed and held one of her legs. She scrunched up her face and then started to grimace.
    “Eighty-five seconds,” her mother announced.
    “You’re doing great,” I said.
    “It hurts.” She collapsed back against the pillows.
    “It’s supposed to,” her mother said,