Leaving Enchantment

THE SPACIOUS ROOM FELT tranquil and homey—with dim lighting, soothing classical music and the scent of lavender in the air. Steve Davidson rubbed massage oil through the back opening of his wife’s favorite flannel nightgown, while Mary crouched on her hands and knees panting softly.

She was ten centimeters dilated.

Lydia Kane, midwife and founder of The Birth Place, observed the young woman thoughtfully. Six years ago, Mary’s first delivery had been relatively quick. Lydia had predicted that this second one would be even faster. And yet the baby still hadn’t dropped into position in the birth canal.

Across the room, where she was folding the damp towels Mary had used to towel off from a soak in the whirlpool tub earlier, Gina Vaughn, the assisting midwife, was biting her bottom lip. Lydia caught her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile.

Gina was doing wonderfully. Newly certified, a mother of two herself, Gina’s passion for the calling reminded Lydia of herself decades ago. Oh, she’d been terribly idealistic at that age. A part of her, she knew, still was.

Even after all these years, every birth Lydia attended gave her the same deep sense of wonder and satisfaction. The belief that she was helping mothers savor the full meaning of their childbirth experience had motivated her to establish The Birth Place in the fairly isolated town of Enchantment, New Mexico, and to keep it running—sometimes overcoming incredible hurdles—for over forty years.

“Excuse me.” Steve approached, his eyes creased with concern. “How much longer, do you think? She’s really in a lot of pain.”

“Let’s see how she’s doing.” Lydia performed a quick examination. The baby hadn’t descended into the pelvis yet. Come on, little guy, she urged silently. She checked Mary’s temperature while Gina assessed the fetal heart rate with a handheld Doppler. Steve and Mary both seemed to relax slightly when they heard the steady rhythm.

“It’s 145 to 150 beats per minute,” Gina said.

Lydia nodded. “Temperature is normal.” She turned back to Steve. “It shouldn’t be much longer. Let’s wait for a few more contractions. Mary, do you want to try squatting at the side of the bed?”

Maybe a change in position would help bring the baby down.

Lydia knew the Davidson’s daughter, Sammy, hoped for a sister. But Lydia suspected Mary was carrying a boy, at least one pound heavier than Sammy had been.

“You’re doing beautifully,” she told Mary, stroking the petite woman’s back, containing her own growing unease.

“That last contraction was a killer.” Mary crawled awkwardly from the bed, leaning heavily on Steve for support. She grabbed one of the strong wooden posts, then squatted, pulling hard on the bed as another contraction swept over her.

“Oh, I need to push!” Mary cried.

Lydia understood the other woman’s overwhelming urge to bear down. In second-stage labor, Mary’s entire body was focused on expelling the child from her womb.

“Good work, Mary,” she encouraged.

Gina adjusted Mary’s gown so she could get yet another Doppler reading. Again, the sound of a strong heartbeat filled the room. Mary and Steve’s baby appeared to be coping well.

And yet…

Reserving judgment for a few more minutes, Lydia considered Steve’s worried face. These days, almost all of Lydia’s client’s husbands or partners chose to be present during the birthing experience—sometimes with siblings and other family members, too. Six years ago, Steve had been one of those keen father-to-be’s. But in the last, difficult hour of Sammy’s delivery, when Mary had been alternately crying and whimpering, he had left the room.

Lydia knew he’d been disappointed later, and so had Mary. This time Steve was determined to stick it out—for Mary and for himself. But he already appeared a little woozy.

“This is it!” Mary reached for Lydia’s hand as her body surged in one more powerful contraction. “Oh my God, the baby’s coming!”

But twenty minutes later, the baby still hadn’t descended very much. Lydia checked the time. Almost seven in the evening. More than five hours had passed since the Davidsons had arrived with Mary already in established labor. Lydia didn’t know what was wrong. Mary’s contractions certainly palpitated strong enough. Baby’s heart rate was stable. There was no apparent reason to be concerned and yet Lydia’s sixth sense warned that all was not well.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” she said quietly to Gina.

“Taking a little longer than we expected.”

Yes. But why? Lydia looked at the tiny woman who was now back on the bed, exhausted, disheartened. The disparity in size between Mary and her large-framed husband had caused Lydia concern when she’d first met the couple six years ago. But Mary had a proven pelvis. Sammy had weighed in at just over eight pounds.

However, this second child was bigger than the first. Perhaps even bigger than Lydia had estimated.

She made up her mind. “I’m moving them to the hospital.”

After a second Gina nodded. “Maybe that’s wise.”

“I’ve got the air mattress in the back of my van. Drive it right up to the back door, would you? My keys are in the top drawer of my desk. I’ll talk to the Davidsons.”

“Is there a problem?” Steve had noticed the two midwives conferring quietly.

“Probably not.” Lydia smiled at him, then his wife. “You’re doing wonderfully, Mary, and your baby is a real champ, too. But this delivery is taking longer than I expected, and I always play it safe in situations like this. I want to move you to the hospital.”

Arroyo County Hospital was just minutes away. Nevertheless, delivery in a bright, modern, bustling hospital was not what the Davidsons had wanted. It wasn’t what Lydia wanted for them, either, but she could not take any chances.

“I don’t want— Ohhh…” Another contraction hit Mary, sweeping away her objection. Lydia calmly coached her through the pain. When it was over, Lydia performed a quick reexamination to see if the baby’s head had dropped. Unfortunately, no progress had been made.

“I’m sorry, Mary, but we have to move you. I know it’s going to be uncomfortable, but Gina will ride with you in the back of my van. Steve, do you want to sit up front with me?”

“I’ll drive my own vehicle,” he decided, his voice taut with anxiety.

“Fine. We’ll meet you there. And don’t worry. Dr. Ochoa is on duty tonight. He’ll take good care of Mary.”

DR. OCHOA, AN OBSTETRICIAN at the Arroyo County Hospital, met them in the delivery room. Lydia referred all her high-risk patients to Dr. Ochoa and had unfaltering admiration for the man. His reciprocal respect explained their professional association for over twenty years.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, snapping on a new pair of gloves.

Already positioned on the delivery table, pale, exhausted Mary had no energy to speak. Steve, as well, was quiet and tense. Lydia hoped he wasn’t going to faint. Gina obviously had the same concern. She was at his side, watching him carefully.

Quickly Lydia filled the doctor in on the patient’s case history. “Mary’s been at ten centimeters for almost two hours now. The baby still hasn’t descended.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, let’s take a look. Maybe something happened on the drive over.” He ambled to the delivery bed. “Hello, Mary, Steve. I’m Dr. Ochoa. How are you doing?”

After a quick examination he noted that the baby was now in position. “But—” he gave Lydia a smile of approval “—I’m glad you brought her in. It’s always better to err on the side of caution.” He turned back to the anxious parents-to-be. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

Lydia noticed Steve’s shoulders relax a fraction. Did he feel better now that a real doctor was in charge? Mary, however, seemed stressed. Lydia took her hand.

Mary’s anxious gaze sought hers. “Will you stay until my baby’s born?”

“I will.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“No.” She patted Mary’s shoulder then glanced at the doctor, who nodded in acceptance.

“And my baby’s still okay?”

A nurse had hooked Mary up to an external fetal monitor now and had started an IV, as well. Lydia had only to glance at the machine to see the same fetal heart rate they’d tracked on the Doppler at The Birth Place.