Fools Rush in(40)

The woman was lying on her beach blanket. There was a dark stain of fluid underneath her, but it was not blood.

“Okay, folks, let’s give her some room,” Sam called out, gesturing the crowd back.

“Hi, I’m Millie,” I panted, kneeling by the woman’s side and squeezing her shoulder gently. “I’m a doctor. How are you doing?”

“I think I’m having the baby,” she gasped, her eyes wide, her hands clutching fistfuls of sand.

“Your first?” I asked, opening my bag and pulling on latex gloves.

“It’s my second,” the woman answered. I glanced up. There was a little boy about two years old holding on to the towel-waver’s leg.

Sam knelt next to me. “What can I do?”

“Keep those people back, okay?” I murmured. “I’ll need you in a second.”

As in so many emergency situations, there were about twelve things going on at once. Sam pushed back the quickly swelling crowd. I heard him talking on the radio to the ambulance. Music was playing nearby. The woman gave a low moan, and her husband came up and clutched her hand. I felt her abdomen. It was rigid with the strength of her contraction.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Heidi,” she panted.

“The ambulance is on the way, Heidi,” I said. “I’m going to check you and see where we are, okay? Do you have a clean towel?” I asked the dad. He grabbed one out of their beach bag and thrust it at me, and I slid it beneath her bottom.

“Will she be okay? Is the baby coming?” he asked.

Using the bandage scissors from my bag, I cut through the woman’s bathing suit.

The top of the baby’s head was clearly visible. “Your baby wants to see the ocean,” I said, smiling at Heidi. Her brown eyes grew even wider and she looked at her husband.

“Is your son okay?” I asked. The little boy looked terrified, eyes popping, chin trembling.

“Mark, watch him,” panted the mom, extricating her hand from her husband’s grip. “Can I push? I want to push. I think I need to push.”

“That’s fine, Heidi. Wait for the next contraction. Sam!” I called. “Give me a hand!” The crowd murmured collectively, and Sam was at my side in a flash. He took Heidi’s hand and slipped his arm under her shoulders to prop her up a little.

“I’m Sam,” he said kindly. “Looks like you’re a pro at this.”

“The baby’s not due for three more weeks!” she cried.

“Don’t worry, Heidi,” I said, giving her a quick smile. “Your body knows what to do.”

“It’s not a show, people!” Ethel barked in her rusty, crackling voice. “Back up!”

“Okay,” I said, feeling her abdomen begin to tighten again. “Here comes the next contraction, so give us a big push. One, two, three…”

She pushed, her face scrunching with effort. The baby’s head emerged a few centimeters more. Heidi gave a high, keening cry, and the crowd gasped.

“You’re doing great,” I said, easing a finger next to the baby’s wet, dark head. An ambulance siren wailed. “We’re almost there.” Her abdomen tightened again. “The head is the hard part, remember? Okay, here’s another contraction. Push, Heidi, a really big push now…”

She pushed again, and the baby’s head slid out, covered in blood and vernix and black hair. “Got a brunette here, just like you,” I said. “Now don’t push, okay? Hold on one second and just pant.”

I slipped my gloved finger into the baby’s mouth and slicked out a wad of mucus. Gently turning the head skyward, I could see that the baby’s face was blue.

“Oh, God,” said the father, dropping to one knee and clutching his son against him. “Oh, Jesus, please.”

“What’s wrong?” Heidi sobbed.

“Got a tight nuchal here,” I muttered. Sam nodded. The umbilical cord was wrapped once around the baby’s neck.

“Hang on, Heidi,” he said. “You’re doing great. Just give Millie a minute, okay?”

I worked my finger under the cord and carefully, carefully eased it up over the baby’s head.

“Please, God,” the husband choked.

“Is everything okay?” Heidi asked breathlessly.

“Everything is fine. One more second…okay. One more push, Heidi. Nice and easy.”

She pushed and the baby slid into my hands. I scooped out the baby’s mouth again. The infant gagged and another wad of mucus and liquid came up, and then, that most wonderful of all sounds, the first cries of a new life. “It’s a girl!” I announced, and the crowd gave a mighty cheer and began to applaud. Even as I rubbed the infant with a clean Scooby-Doo beach towel, her face began to turn pink. Leaving the umbilical cord for the paramedics to deal with, I placed the baby on her mother’s chest. The crowd cheered again as Heidi sobbed happily.

“Trevor! Come see your sister!” she wept. The father and little boy knelt by her side, and Sam eased away.

“Need me to do anything, Millie?” he asked as I placed another towel over the mother’s belly.

“I think I’m all set,” I said, smiling up at him. At that moment, the paramedics arrived with a stretcher. One of them came up to Sam.