Two EMTs wheeled in a gurney that held a woman—I’d be tempted to call her a girl—of slight build with a mass of long, dark hair damply stuck to her forehead. She was screaming with the pain of a contraction.
And I meanscreaming.
The first EMT, Ted Logan, was the guy I went to prom with. As soon as I saw him, I began to breathe easier. He and his twin brother Irwin worked together, and they were known by the entire ER as the Dynamic Duo. Great guys, fun to work with, and they made their own wine, which made for great stories and occasional free bottles. But today, no time for small talk.
“Hey, Ani,” he said, launching straight into his spiel. “Sixteen-year-old primip at term with contractions every three minutes. Water broke in the car fifteen minutes ago, and she’s crowning. She gave her name as Jennie Jones, but she’s got no ID to confirm.” He dropped his voice. “That’s probably not her real name. She started to say her name was Chris or something before she realized it. She says she’s been to the free clinic a couple of times.”
“She’s going to go fast,” Irwin, who was also a premed student, said.
Everyone bustled around, transferring the patient to the laboring bed, BethAnn helping her put her feet in the stirrups for delivery. “Someone’s with her?” I asked. Someone this young couldn’t possibly be alone at a time like this, right?
Irwin shook his head. “She was attempting to drive herself to the hospital when her water broke.”
Alone, registered in my mind. Barely more than a child herself. Drivingherselfto the hospital in labor?
BethAnn did her vitals, placed a fetal heart rate monitor on her abdomen, and started to set up for an IV.
The baby’s heart was strong and fast. I blew out a tiny breath of relief. Mom and baby were okay—so far so good.
I walked to the head of the bed. “Hi, Jennie. I’m Dr. Green,” I said. “Do you want us to call anyone?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were big and brown and full of terror.
I rested my hand lightly on her forearm. “We’re going to help you through this. I’ll be here until the obstetrics doctor arriv?—”
Another wail of pain, loud and raw, accompanied by writhing. Beth had stopped even considering trying to start an IV and was now holding Jennie’s hand and coaching her through.
Ivy had taken down the bottom of the bed, preparing for delivery. One look and oh my god—there was the baby’s head, covered with a mass of matted black hair, a wondrous and frightening sight. There was no turning back now. And there was no chance that the OB doc was going to get here in time.
More screams, terrifying ones. Words of comfort from BethAnn. Internal screams from me too, but outwardly, just pursed lips and lots of deep breathing.
“Jennie,” I said. At first, she didn’t look. I had to say it one more time before she faced me.
Sixteen years old, alone, no ID…definitely a fake name.
“The baby is almost here,” I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. “On the next contraction, breathe like this. Shallow. Pants. I’ll tell you when to push, okay?”
She nodded.
“Okay, girlfriend, you can do this,” BethAnn said.
I gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great.”
“It hurts, it hurts,” the girl cried. And then the final contraction was upon her. She tried to breathe shallowly, but it was impossible to stop the inevitable tidal wave of force about to propel this baby into the world.
I barely had time to put on gloves and get into position when the baby’s entire head delivered, loads of jet black, hair, a bit matted and not camera-ready yet, but so far so good. I made the football sign Adam had made half in jest, spreading my fingers wide, supporting the head as the shoulders cleared the mom’s body and the rest of the baby propelled out into life.
The baby rotated to face up on the way out. After a quick check—“It’s a girl,” I said, my voice quivering. Because…it was a sweet baby girl. A miracle. A brand new…person. Her eyes were shut, little fists clenched tight to her chest. She was a rump-roast size, perfectly formed, a mass of black hair, rosebud lips. A beautiful thing. Reddish-purple, coated with some slippery stuff—hey, not an Insta moment…yet.
I curled my hand around her shoulder, the other under her neck and basically just caught her as she came up and out, keeping my grasp firm.
Like riding a bike. I’d remembered how to do it. Yay, me.
As BethAnn suctioned her nose with a bulb syringe, she took her first breath and exhaled with a zesty cry.
Another yay.Thanks, God.
The tiny little thing gave another big wail. And then another, each gasp making her pink up as her lungs filled with air and her heart carried the oxygenated blood through her body for the first time.
