Taking slow, even breaths, he reached beneath the sheet and slid his hand along her thigh. It was slick with blood and other fluids. He massaged her leg tenderly, covering his hand in the slippery concoction. There would be need of lubrication if he were going to be able to do what was necessary.
“Try to relax, love, I’m going to try to do this quickly.” He located her opening with the tips of his fingers. Her body was prepared for this. There was just barely enough room for his hand to slide inward.
At first, she jerked and cried out, but he had his other arm around her, and he pulled her up against him. “This one needs a little help, that’s all, love.”
As did he.
He closed his eyes and prayed.
There it was, he could feel the back of the infant. At least if felt like the infant’s back. And, yes, the little bum. Hugh needed to turn the tiny body so that it could enter the birthing canal.
Penelope’s head had fallen back. A tremor ran through her.
He nudged, with his fingers at first, and then attempted to pull downward on a shoulder. “Come on little one, a little more. There you go now, just like that.” The baby was moving. The shoulders turned slightly and then he knew the head had turned also.
Hugh removed his hand. Penelope’s body must do the rest now.
She lay perfectly still but for the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest. She needed revived of the lethargy she’d fallen into. “Don’t leave me, love. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Hugh moved behind her then, wrapped his hands around her from behind, and lifted her to a sitting, almost squatting position. “Help me, love, I need you to help me, now. Our baby needs everything you’ve got.”
He turned to Rose. “Pull back the curtains and open the window!”
She’d been looking on in a paralyzed sort of awe. At his command, still clasping the other child to her, she moved into action.
Penelope moaned, but he could feel her efforts now. “Hugh? I can’t.”
Penelope was covered in sweat, but her body was contracting again.
Using one hand, he whipped Penelope’s gown over her head and allowed the cool air to hit her. “Now, Penelope, now is the time.You must push.”
The air did exactly as he wanted. Penelope was awake now. And she was pushing.
He supported her from behind, his muscles cramping in the awkward position. But he paid no heed to them as Penelope pushed until they could see the baby’s head begin to appear between her legs.
Rose lay the other infant down and rushed to the bed. The child emerging was moving.
And then, Abigail came running in, took one look at Penelope, naked with Hugh behind her, a live child between her legs, and rushed to action.
The head was out.
And then the shoulders. And then, amazingly, a shrill cry broke into the room as this child announced his arrival loudly.
Penelope slumped back against him. She went completely limp with relief and utter exhaustion. But she was breathing. When her eyes fluttered open, he knew he would never forget this moment. His wife glowed. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. And he’d never felt such joy.
Abigail had draped Penelope’s lower half with one of the few clean sheets left in the room and was efficiently working with the afterbirth. Rose was attending the second baby. Hugh climbed off the bed so that they could attend to his dear wife. When he did so, his attention was caught by the other child.
His.
Theirs.
Lifeless.
Was it possible to feel intense happiness and yet the worst sort of sadness all within the space of a single moment?
It was.
He lifted the unmoving babe into his arms. His own shirt unbuttoned, he pressed the naked baby against his skin, over his heart. He rubbed the child. He kissed its head. He had not even looked to see if it was a boy or a girl, but it was his. The child was his own flesh and blood.
