“I have to feel the baby’s head,” Dr. Carson said to Sarah, but her eyes were closed. He gently pushed his hand up into the birth canal. “I think the position of the crown is wrong. It’s facing the wrong way. The contractions must be thrusting the largest part of the head into the base of the spine instead of the birth canal.”
“Can you turn it?” I asked.
“I’m going to try,” Dr. Carson said. “She’ll have to stay as still as possible. It will be very painful.”
“Sarah, listen to me,” I said, shaking her awake. “We know how to get the baby to come out. This is going to hurt, but you need to try not to move while we shift the baby’s position.” I spoke directly into her ear. “Do you understand me?”
Her eyes were blank, lost in a sea of pain, but she squeezed my hand and nodded faintly.
We didn’t need the precautions. I knew how painful it must be for Sarah, but she had lost so much of her strength that she didn’t fight us. Dr. Carson’s fingers gripped as much of the baby as he could and applied pressure, rotating the head and shoulders. I caught Dr. Carson’s eye and smiled. He had changed the position.
“Now, Sarah, get ready to push on the next contraction,” he said.
But then, Sarah’s stomach rippled again, and Dr. Carson shook his head at me. It wasn’t a contraction. The baby had flipped back to its original position. I looked at Sarah. Her eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness, and her hands lay limp on the bed. I couldn’t just sit there and watch this lovely young woman and her baby die. The only thing we could do was to try again. With precious time running out, I stepped forward.
“Let me try,” I said. “My hands are smaller than yours, and I might get a better grip on the baby.”
Dr. Carson shrugged, but pointed to the washbasin set on a small chair between two of the bunks in one corner of the room. As I washed my hands and forearms thoroughly as he had taught me, I tried to visualize Dr. Boyd’s actions during the birth of the foal. It had been such an emotional experience for me; I had a very clear memory.
I moved towards the end of the bed and took a deep breath, then pushed my hands into the birth canal, feeling for the baby’s head. With all ten fingers, I gripped it as strongly as I dared and rotated clockwise. Again, there was movement, but the timing was perfect. A strong contraction immediately followed, and Sarah’s body took over, as if relieved to be able to do what it needed to.
“I see the head!” I cried. “Push, Sarah, push!”
Sarah was suddenly awake, her eyes wide and focused, pushing with all her might. Dr. Carson came to my side and within seconds, the baby emerged, slippery and wet, and we caught it in our hands. Its little lungs filled with air and it let out a life-claiming cry.
“It’s a boy!” I said. “Sarah, you did it.”
Dr. Carson worked furiously to cut the umbilical cord and clean out the baby’s mouth and nose before presenting him to Sarah. “Well done! Here is your son.”
Sarah held her baby to her bare chest and ran her hand over his limbs, counting his toes and fingers. “He’s perfect.”
“Of course he is,” I said. “And look at that hair.”
She smiled, smoothing his matted dark curls and kissing him on the forehead.
I went to the door and let in Florence, Emma, and Alice, who rushed to Sarah’s side with water, towels, and a little food. They congratulated Sarah and admired the new baby, giggling at his angry, indignant cries. A new peace settled over the room. I stood watching the scene, stunned at what had just transpired.
Dr. Carson turned to me, tired relief in his eyes. “You saved a mother and baby today. You should be proud.”
I wiped my eyes, which had grown wet again with fresh tears. “I am.”
Chapter Twenty
When I returned to the cabin, I was beaming ear to ear.
“I didn’t know you enjoyed knitting so much,” Harriet commented and I instantly sobered.
“I think I’m just tired. Too much squinting at the yarn.”
I was grateful when she suggested we both order a supper tray and stay in for the evening. If the Burks were at dinner, I was sure they would make disparaging comments about unwed emigrant mothers, and I was in no mood to suffer their nonsense.
The next morning, I woke early to the sounds of the ship springing to life, the drumbeat of many scurrying feet, the call and response of orders echoing throughout the vessel. The thick ropes whipped through cleats, and then came the hard snap of sails stretched tight by the wind. The ship was once again under full sail. But my first thought was for Sarah, and I rose, dressing quickly, and scurried out of my cabin, taking the servants’ route to the lowest deck. As I passed through the kitchen, the clatter of large metal cooking pots accompanied the cook’s cussing.
“Porridge will be ready when I say it’s bloody ready,” he shouted to the crew. “Leave me alone and stop pestering me, you nackle-ass buggers.”
I kept moving towards Sarah’s cabin. At my gentle knock, she beckoned me in. Sarah was sitting up with her baby and she smiled at me as I entered. Her face no longer was a mask of pain.
“Have you had anything to eat yet?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The others just left to cook breakfast. It’ll take awhile.”
