“That’s right!” Nora cheered. “When the occipital bone is in front of the mother.” Nora picked up the small skull she’d placed on the table and stroked the shapely bone that rested just above the neck on the back of the head. “We name the position by the child first, orienting using his occipital bone. Then we name where it is facing.Anteriormeansforward. So occiput anterior means his occipital bone is pointing the same direction as the mother’s navel.”
Excitement heated her cheeks, but Ruth’s expression… No excitement there.
“You’re understanding it just fine,” Nora half laughed. “You’re only annoyed with me.”
“It seems a waste of breath,” Ruth confirmed. “But go on, try another one.”
They went through posterior, transverse, breech, until Ruth couldn’t be tricked.
“Just think,” Nora said, stretching out a kink in her lower back, “when you attend my lectures and some doctor boastsover his occiput posterior birth, you can ask if it was a right or left presentation and leave them all gawping.”
A light glinted in Ruth’s eye. “I do like the sound of that.”
Nora laughed. She’d make a medical marvel out of this midwife. At least, she would if she had enough time. Now that the entire household knew about her pregnancy, she found herself scrutinized at every turn, three doctors and two women piling on so many opinions that it nearly buried her.
But Ruth knew about women and childbirth, more than Julia or Mrs. Phipps. In her own way, more even than Nora or Horace or Daniel. She might be the best source of advice. But suppose she agreed with them? Nora couldn’t afford to leave her work yet.
“Have you seen cholera in any of the places you’ve visited?” Nora asked, composing her words carefully.
Ruth’s eyes widened. “Not seen any of that in years,” she answered. “Has it come?”
“No,” Nora reassured her. “There was one family that went down with an illness resembling it, but there’s no other cases.”
The way Horace described it, rapidly transmitting infection was a hallmark of the disease. So it was still possible that these cases were something else. Nora licked her lips. “I just don’t know how cholera would affect a pregnant woman.”
“I hope you don’t have to find out.” Ruth began tidying away their lesson materials, packing the cloth baby into a wooden box. Her calm expression and large, expressive eyes rested on Nora, inviting confidences.
Easy to see why other women came to her time after time.
Nora sighed, preparing to nudge some especially weightywords across the table. “Have you ever seen a woman four weeks late who wasn’t pregnant?”
“I see pregnant women who haven’t had a season in years. And some who spotted so much they didn’t know they were with child—rather like our Mrs. Roland, if you recall. Haven’t you seen the same?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Or are we talking about yourself?”
“My courses have been fairly regular,” Nora admitted. “But I’m four weeks late now.”
Ruth was too acclimated to true surprises to fluster or hop about with such news. Her eyes sharpened as they surveyed Nora from top to toe. “How’s your appetite?”
“Less?” Nora still didn’t know if she was imagining it.
“Vomiting?” Ruth marched on.
“No.”
“At least you’re spared that so far.” Ruth shifted her weight and pressed her fingers onto the stone tabletop. “There was an older woman—over thirty—pregnant for the first time. I cared for her until a doctor took over her case. He didn’t worry over her extreme sickness because he thought women were designed to be sick when expecting. She passed away at month six. Her husband never went right after that.”
Nora slid her hands along the limp linen of her skirt, hiding them in her deep pockets. Magdalena had never mentioned morning sickness killing her patients, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen it. Nora must write and ask. “Dr. Croft said my nose looked swollen.”
Ruth tilted her head and pinched her lips in assessment. “I don’t see any difference.”
“And he said my urine smells different.”
Ruth’s forehead folded into perplexed wrinkles. “You had him smell your urine?”
“Not intentionally,” Nora hastened. “He used the water closet after me. He’s particularly”—there were many words to choose from, but the one she wanted didn’t exist—“olfactious.”
A scrunched nose revealed Nora’s explanation hadn’t helped at all.
“He’s sensitive to smells.”
