Michelle and Olivia Chapter 1 from An Accident of Birth SuEllen Hamkins and Cindy L. Parrish Olivia loved this path along the stream, littered with pine needles and framed with ferns, soft enough for bare feet. Hardly anyone came this way to the waterfall. Olivia thought of it as her waterfall. Michelle, eight months pregnant with her first child, walked slowly behind her, stiff-hipped from belly weight. Her straw blonde hair was damp near her temples, Irish cream skin beading with tiny drops of perspiration. She was obviously feeling hotter than Olivia owing to that abdomen, rounding out low and huge before her like some great hope. Olivia appreciated her own relative lightness. But as she ducked under a low branch, her arms felt suddenly awkward. Empty. She held up the branch for Michelle to pass under. “We’re almost there.” Olivia said, glancing back at Michelle. “Good,” Michelle said, disentangling her sundress from an overeager briar bush. “Now what’s supposed to happen when we get there? Nothing too weird, right? I’ll never forget that time you went out walking at midnight with a pack of dogs.” “And lived to tell about it.” “The telling was your favorite part,” said Michelle. Olivia considered for a few steps, the pine needles making a very soft crunch crunch crunch under her feet. When they were girls, Olivia had taken their ordinary lives and their dreams and rubbed them together into stories of their future like she was making a fire to light the way, and Michelle had fanned the flames. Olivia smiled down at the path beneath her feet. It was so satisfying to be with someone who knew her when. “I was practicing,” she told Michelle, wiggling her fingers as though casting a spell towards the sky. Olivia hadn’t seen Michelle for ten years, the years of college and graduate school, but both had just gotten jobs in the Pioneer Valley of western Massachusetts, north of where they’d grown up together. Michelle was an obstetrician, Olivia a professor of African folklore and professional storyteller. They had been getting to know each other again, discovering what kind of a friendship they might have, given all their differences. Now, a few months after reconnecting, Olivia had proposed a “sort of ritual thing” at her waterfall in honor of Michelle’s pregnancy. She was pleased when Michelle was quick to say yes. It was an hour’s walk into the woods to get there, but Michelle thought it would be all right. “My point exactly,” Michelle said, grunting as they went up a slight incline. “Quit worrying, girl. We’re just going swimming.”
Volume 13, Number 1
SPRING 2001
phoebe
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Michelle and Olivia “Okay. Good. I could use that.” “And -if it seems right–we’ll say a few words and, um…“ Olivia struggled to find a way to explain the honey part of the ritual without scaring Michelle. “And give away something sweet.” “Oh. Like an offering?” “Yeah, like that.” Olivia easily picked her way through a series of tree roots. She turned to give Michelle a hand over the barriers in the dirt path. “Thanks.” Olivia couldn’t resist comparing herself to Michelle. Not that she wanted to be an obstetrician. It would be a bit much to spend your entire workday staring at women’s genitals, although she supposed that Michelle was so familiar with intense body contact that by now it just felt normal to her. No, it was that Michelle also had a warm man in her bed and a baby in her belly, while Olivia had neither. She felt a stab of envy, followed by a blue wash of guilt when Michelle breathed, “I’ve missed you, Olivia.” “Me, too.” Olivia said and stopped so abruptly she felt the balloon of Michelle’s belly bump into her back. “We’re here,” she said gesturing wide. They stood before a pool framed by pale cliffs. Above them, water spilled wantonly over a twenty-foot drop, sluicing over smoothed stone faces into the waiting pool. Waves of reflected light shimmered on the rocks behind them. And all around the two women sang the relentless rush of the falls accompanied by hundreds of small rivulets murmuring and trickling over stones. “Welcome to my… cathedral,” Olivia said softly. “Oh,” said Michelle, touching her belly as if in response. They stood there for a long while like that. “Well, let’s get naked.” Olivia spoke into her shirt as she peeled it off over her head. “Hey. I said no funny stuff.” Michelle put her hands on her hips and looked – except for the stomach -- a lot like the first time Olivia met Michelle, when they were both only eleven. Olivia raised her eyebrows invitingly at Michelle. “Everyone who comes here swims in the nude, Michelle. And we’re so early in the season, no one’s coming out here anyway. I promise.” Michelle looked at Olivia baring herself so carelessly: her dark russet brown skin lightening abruptly just above her breasts. There, where the sun rarely touched her, she was the color of steeped raspberry tea. Michelle sighed, unbuttoned her blue sundress and dropped it onto the ground. Her milky white body was a bright contrast to Olivia’s: all firm roundness, breasts, belly, buttocks burgeoning, her whole body ripe in the early morning light. Olivia felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her eyes beheld that belly. Her ear was suddenly tickled, and she looked up into Michelle grinning broadly at her. “I always loved your ears, that extra little spiral. It’s genetic, you know.”
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Michelle and Olivia “Mm. I know. Genes from Grandmama Pearlie,” said Olivia, touching the unusual whorl of her ear. “Where all the family stories come from too. And my freckles.” Pearlie had those exact sprinklings across her broad nose. The freckles had skipped over Olivia’s mother’s face, but fell, like the dust of the African faerie, the Tokolosh, onto Olivia’s nose and cheeks. Olivia hoped to one day pass them onto her own daughter. Well. First, she’d have to have a daughter. Olivia shed her shorts and held her brown arms out, palms toward Michelle. “Aren’t we the pair?” she said. Michelle turned a shy face towards the waterfall. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. Livvy,” she said, using her old nickname for Olivia. “I feel like an acolyte or something. Like I should have brought something to give.” “You have. It is yourself.” Michelle’s face warmed with understanding. She tentatively stepped forward towards the water. “Go on in,” said Olivia, holding Michelle around what used to be her waist. Michelle waded in. When her pale fingertips touched the water, a new delicate pattern appeared on the flowing surface. The water surged around Michelle’s thighs as if exclaiming. Softening every muscle, she let herself fall forward into the cool water. Here I am, she thought a bit uncertainly as the round edge of the water rolled up her legs, abdomen, chest, face, and scalp, drawing her into the cool wet. Was there some kind of a prayer she should say? The ligaments supporting her big belly sighed and relaxed. No weight anywhere. She ducked her head to dive deeper as a practice contraction squeezed firmly across her uterus like hello. How comforting to feel like her graceful self again instead of that irritable, ungainly creature she’d become. The baby rolled inside her as she rolled in the pool. She broke the surface to smile at Olivia standing knee deep in the stream. “This is great! Aren’t you coming in?” “Absolutely,” Olivia dove across the surface of the water, looking more like an otter than the great manatee Michelle knew herself to be. Olivia emerged with wavering lines of light reflected on her brown face. “Let me show you the best part.” With a few strong strokes, Olivia neared the foaming, crashing curtain of water. She turned, treading water hard to yell above the roar, “Do you want to try it? Behind the falls, it’s… you have to see it!” “I’m not at my best stamina nowadays! I’m carrying a load here!” “Pregnant women have the strength of ten men! So I’ve heard! You can do it!” shouted Olivia. “That strength is being used up for parthenogenesis! And yelling at David!” “Well, he’s not here! So you can swim under a waterfall,” Olivia exhorted. “Okay.” Michelle was feeling relatively energetic; she had all morning, despite frequent practice contractions. Olivia flipped under the pounding wall and 15
Michelle and Olivia was gone. Another practice contraction squeezed across Michelle’s uterus, and she breathed with rapid, shallow breaths. Interestingly strong, she thought. When the contraction passed, Michelle stroked as hard as she could up to the edge of the falls, her heart pounding. She took an admirably deep breath, and went under. The falls crushed down on her from above. And just as her breath gave out, Olivia grabbed her arm and towed her through the falls to the cleft of quiet water behind. Michelle opened her eyes and gasped. Smooth, curved rock walls rose up around them and the heavy white curtain of water thundered down behind, spraying droplets into this narrow, holy place. She thought she heard Olivia’s voice. Here prayer is unnecessary. Was that Olivia? Or was it the voice of the pounding water? Here you are the prayer. “Turn around, there’s a toehold,” Olivia shouted above the roar. “Stand there.” Michelle was glad for the footing that raised her a little out of the water, her arms and nose pressed up against the innermost curve of the rock, and there she surrendered her mouth to the smooth, cool wetness. Another practice contraction took hold of Michelle’s womb, so firmly that she felt breathlessly pinned to the face of the rock, as if great thighs were squeezing down on her. Suddenly, she felt a soft pop in her lower belly and a gush of hot fluid at her own thighs. “Olivia!” she shouted over the pounding falls. “I think my waters just broke.” “What? Are you sure? How can you tell?” Michelle answered by releasing herself. She was sucked swiftly out through the falls and ejected into the pool. She swam to the shallow edge and stood up. Suddenly she was heavy and awkward again, unsure of herself on the slippery rocks. “If I broke my waters, we need to go,” said Michelle, drying off as Olivia joined her on the bank. Michelle put the towel to her nose, but it just smelled like damp river water. The baby moved inside her reassuringly. “Hold on,” she said feeling professionally around inside the opening of her vagina to be sure the umbilical cord wasn’t prolapsing. Sometimes the cord slipped out, and became compressed between the baby’s head and the woman’s pelvis, a life-threatening condition. Nothing. Maybe her waters hadn’t broken after all. “Are you all right, andY everything?” Olivia’s face was eager and a little frightened. “Thank the goddess you’re an obstetrician.” “Yeah. But the doctor who treats herself has a fool for a patient and a fool for a doctor.” Not a very reassuring declaration, apparently; Olivia’s face creased with worry. “Well, I’m not a doctor, I just play one on t.v.” Olivia said, trying to smile. Michelle squatted for her dress. “Don’t worry, Olivia, I feel fine. Probably my waters haven’t broken.”
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Michelle and Olivia “Oh, good. Then we can still do this.” Olivia pulled a quart of wildflower honey out of her bag and held it up. “I learned this Yoruba blessing when I was in Nigeria. It’s really beautiful. I’ll sing a ritual song and then pour this whole jar of honey over you and the baby. Alright?” As if in answer, a contraction spread through Michelle and a gush of clear fluid washed down her thighs. “Shit.” She touched the slippery stuff and brought her fingers to her nose. The yeasty smell of amniotic fluid was undeniable. “Okay, my waters broke. We need to go.” Michelle threw on her dress. Olivia pressed her lips together and reluctantly lowered the arm holding the honey jar. “What do we do? We walk out, right? Right,” she answered herself. She put the honey back in her bag and whipped on her own clothes. She had to run to catch up with Michelle, the tote bag banging against her hip. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the hurry? You’ll just tire yourself out. You’ve got plenty of time.” “Maybe I don’t,” Michelle said rather grimly and continued her long, ungainly strides. Olivia had to jog to keep up. “Do you want me to run ahead and take the car for help?” Michelle frowned. “No, I would rather that you stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.” Michelle walked like her life depended on it. Hail Mary, full of grace, she prayed silently, the Lord is with thee. It was a prayer she’d said thousands of times as a girl, because she had to. Before she rejected the dictates of Catholicism. But in rare moments of desperation she still called on it, like when she was an intern treating a dying two-year-old. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. Walk, walk, walk, walk. Thank god the head is well engaged. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us, now and at the hour of our death, amen. Today the prayer felt like a useless call to empty space, but at least a familiar one. Shit, another contraction. A real one. A stop-everything-and-lean-on-a tree-and just-breathe contraction. Not painful, just powerful. More amniotic fluid gushed out, leaving dark spots on the front of her light blue maternity sundress. She was in the woods with a lunatic. No, she was with Olivia. It was okay. What the fuck was the timing? Wasn’t this going awfully fast? “Olivia, do you have a watch?” “Yes, in my bag.” “Get it out and tell me what time it is.” “I know it’s around 7:30 a.m.” “Get out your goddamn watch and tell me exactly what time it is!” Michelle began her race-walking again. She could take awfully long strides compared with Olivia. Olivia fumbled through her bag while jogging alongside. “7:28.” Hail Mary, full of grace, prayed Michelle silently. 17
Michelle and Olivia In the teeth of the Goddess, thought Olivia. She was thinking through her repertoire of ways to help Michelle calm down. Clearly Michelle was panicked and had lost touch with her own professional knowledge. Olivia slowed her jog and lagged a little. AIt’s okay, Michelle. You’re going to be fine,” she said soothingly. “I’ll be right here with you.” “When,” panted Michelle, “did we leave the car?” “I picked you up at 6:00, so it must have been around 6:15.” Michelle leaned up against a tall maple as another contraction wrapped around her belly. Tears dropped onto the dry leaves below like tiny drumbeats. “What time is it?” Michelle looked at Olivia for the first time since they’d left the waterfall. Olivia was rummaging in her bag again. “Put your watch on,” Michelle commanded her. “7:34,” said Olivia, still trying to be soothing. And Michelle was off again. “Olivia, I need you now to help me and not be mad at me. No matter what,” panted Michelle. “We need to go as fast as we can.” “Is there something wrong with the baby?” “No.” “Is there something wrong with you?” “No.” “Then what’s the problem?” “I have the feeling it’s going to be a fast labor.” “Oh. How do you know?” Michelle tripped on a tree root and recovered her footing without falling. “My mother’s labors were very short. Less than an hour by the time she had me.” “Yeah, but you were number four.” “That’s right.” Michelle turned to look at Olivia without slowing her charge forward. “And when her waters broke with me, I was born ten short minutes later. Comprende?” Olivia nodded. Michelle went on. “At my last OB visit, the cervix wasn’t dilated, but it was almost completely thinned out. So it will dilate really fast once I’m in active labor. Which is now. I’m active. It’s active. Let’s go.” Olivia grabbed hold of Michelle’s hand and held it tight. She stopped jogging and joined Michelle’s race walk. “Okay,” was all she could say. Michelle stopped and leaned forward against a tree. This time the contraction spread into her thighs as well. Olivia put a hand on her back, gently stroking her. Michelle gasped, “Time?” “7:40.” “Remember the intervals.” Michelle took a few deep breaths, then was off again. “Sorry for being so curt.” Olivia smiled crookedly. “You’re kinda like PMS on cocaine, lady. But you’re allowed. Six minutes since the last one.” 18
Michelle and Olivia “How much farther is it to the car?” “We’re about… a quarter of the way there.” “That’s not the right answer.” Olivia glanced sideways at Michelle to see if she was kidding. “So how much time do you think we have?” “A couple of hours.” “It took us fifty-five minutes to get out here, and you were walking much slower then. We’ll be all right,” Olivia said to convince them both. But they made little headway as she kept calling out the time: “7:45”, “7:50”, “7:54”, “halfway there now,” “7:58”, “8:02”, “8:06”, “8:09.” Oh holy mother, thought Michelle. Labor felt like riding bareback on a horse. For each contraction, she had to will her abdomen, back, thighs, and mouth to relax, because only if she kept her muscles soft was the pain tolerable, only then could she stay on the back of the horse. Balance was everything. Michelle had been planning to imagine her cervix opening like a flower when she was in labor. A sunflower. That’s what she told her patients. But now she wanted hers to stay as closed as the fist of a miser. When the next contraction gripped her in its tightening clench, Michelle couldn’t help moaning, loud moans that broke around them. No. She willed herself into silence. She had to stay strong. But she couldn’t help asking, “Why aren’t we there yet? We should be there by now.” Olivia kissed Michelle’s shoulder. “Baby, you are the fastest race-walker-while-in-labor alive, but hard as it is to believe, the contractions do slow you up. Unless you want to walk through them.” “I would if I could. Oh, God, here comes another one already.” Michelle leaned against a tree for support. “What can I ---“ “Quiet!” Michelle needed all her concentration to make her body relax, to breathe and stay astride that galloping mare and not fall off under the steely hooves. Then her legs gave way. “I can’t stand up.” “I’ve got you.” Olivia grasped her own arms around Michelle’s back and set her legs like a capital A, letting the waves of moans break against her. When the contraction passed, Michelle was laughing mirthlessly. “I’ve written the best fucking birth plan imaginable, with David there to support me, and Grace, a hot shower, the best midwife in the world, fresh squeezed juice in the fridge, music, the works!” Olivia patted her cheek. Michelle was crying now. “I was going to do it right, but No-o-o. I have to run around after a pristine nature experience because I am a complete spiritual wasteland, and so I walk an hour into the woods, and now I’m going to drop the kid alone in the dirt like a dog without even a clean towel to lay on!” Olivia stroked Michelle’s hair. “We do have a clean towel. Two, in fact. And you’re not alone.” 19
Michelle and Olivia Michelle sighed, and let the tears wash down her face. “It’s going to happen right here, Olivia. And there’s no one to hold me when it does.” “I’ll be holding you,” said Olivia. Wasn’t she holding her right now? “Sorry, but you’ll be catching the baby.” Lord have mercy. Catch it? Up to now Olivia had been confident in the knowledge that Michelle was an obstetrician, an absolute expert, and she just needed to be supportive, distracting her until they got to the car. Adrenaline surged through Olivia. She couldn’t let Michelle know how scared she was. Take charge, speak with confidence, she thought. Never let the truth stand in the way of a good story. “I can do that. Shall we find the best place now, or try to make it a little farther?” “I can’t go any farther.” Another contraction came. After it passed, Olivia eased Michelle down to hands and knees. She knew that the greatest danger was emotional, even as precarious as things were physically. If Michelle panicked, Olivia would have no idea what to do. First, find the right spot. “What do we need for a birthing chair, so to speak?” “Backrest at forty-five degrees. No mud.” Olivia found a heavy tree, tipped midway off 90 degree, but solid, and -she glanced skyward -- alive. A big maple, with roots just right for Michelle’s hands and feet. Olivia grabbed armfuls of dry leaves and mounded them in front of the tree, then patted one of the clean towels around the mound. Michelle rocked on her hands and knees, moaning again, ending each moan with a little grunt. Olivia gathered all their things near the tree, then knelt by Michelle and silently stroked her back until the contraction subsided. “Your birthing bed awaits.” Michelle got heavily to her feet, and with one arm around Olivia’s shoulders, she walked over to it. “Satisfactory,” she said, and sat down, taking care to keep her feet off of the towel. “The leaves are a little prickly.” Olivia took off her shirt and tucked it under Michelle’s hips. “Better?” Michelle nodded. “Water.” Olivia opened the water bottle and handed it to her. Michelle took a long drink and handed it back, then snatched it again, placing the bottle between two roots where she could easily reach it. She spoke with her eyes closed, in the voice of a clinician: “You sit there between my legs. Not on the towel. The point is to help the head come out as slowly as possible. Once the head is out, check for a cord around the neck. If there’s a cord, I’ll tell you what to do. Either way, the rest of the body needs to be delivered as fast as possible, or the baby will asphyxiate.” Olivia took her birthing position. “What about cutting the cord?” “Unnecessary. The cord will close down on its own. It’s fine for the placenta to stay attached to the baby. Here… here we go.” 20
Michelle and Olivia Michelle began moaning with such force that Olivia half expected the baby to come shooting out like a greased football right then, but Michelle clearly didn’t, because she grabbed both of Olivia’s hands and squeezed them unbelievably hard until the contraction ended. Immediately, her face shifted from grimace to sorrow. “I want David. I need someone to hold me,” Michelle said. “I’m lost.” She kept hold of Olivia’s hands. “Livvy. I’m afraid I’m going to die.” Olivia moved beside her, pulling one hand from her grasp to put around Michelle’s shoulders, and rocked with her. “You’re okay, ‘Chelle. You’re okay. You’ll be fine.” Olivia fell into the crooning of her own grandmother, Pearlie. The rocking and crooning let her mind become blank; she felt the bones of her buttocks press into the leaves, the smell of earthy decay in her nostrils. There was the murmuring of the stream behind her, the episodic calling of birds. She took a deep breath. Narrow bars of sunlight passed through the leaves, coming to rest on a stone, on a clump of ferns, on Michelle’s foot. “Michelle,” Olivia improvised, “Close your eyes. Feel the bed of leaves beneath you? Feel the tree behind you?” Olivia tried to relax herself into the earth. “Feel my arms around you? These are all the arms of your mother, and they will hold you and not let you go, no matter what.” On they rocked. “Your body comes from this earth, and your body knows how to do this incredible thing, to give birth, like your mother and her mother and her mother, all the way back.” Their rocking slowed. Olivia felt Michelle relax against the tree. As they sat next to each other against the tree, Olivia could feel Michelle’s belly press into her own as it began tightening with the next contraction. Michelle tensed in dread and started breathing rapidly. She grabbed a gnarly finger of root with one hand. Olivia spoke softly. “We are with you. All is well. All is well.” Michelle took a deep breath, feeling the baby move a fraction down in her pelvis like a boulder scraping inside her. Her groan widened into a full-throated “Ooooh!” It felt like her body was being split apart and would break. Michelle was no longer on the galloping horse; now she was giving birth to it. Or to the moon. The entire moon was moving through her. Her friend moved to kneel between her legs without being asked. Unconsciously, Michelle brought both hands down to support the sides of her vulva. Olivia rested her hands on Michelle’s shins. Michelle relaxed her thighs and let her womb do its work, open, open. She let her breath fill her lungs and empty out, open, open, open. Then just rest until the next one. No more walking. Just being here. As each contraction came, Olivia felt the mounting energy of Michelle’s body flow into her own, as if she, too, was giving birth, as if she, too, was opening in an entirely new way. Something good was happening from all their effort, Olivia could tell. After the latest contraction, Michelle’s body relaxed and she glowed with exhilaration. “Girl, you are gorgeous!” Olivia said without thinking. Michelle smiled and drank some water, then washed her hands in it, transforming again from birthing woman to obstetrician: “It won’t be long now. Get the other clean 21
Michelle and Olivia towel ready to wipe the baby’s face. Once the baby’s out, put it on the abdomen and put the towel on top of it. Give me the cocoa butter.” Olivia reached into the bag, and handed Michelle the jar. Michelle scooped up some cocoa butter and began rubbing herself with it. “The midwives’ secret for a smooth birth with no tearing. Are your hands clean?” Olivia looked at her hands. Grimy. She washed them with a ration of water from the bottle and dried them on the edge of the clean towel. Mentally she reviewed Michelle’s instructions: slow delivery of the head, check for a cord, get the baby out so she doesn’t strangle, put her on the abdomen. Without warning, she fleetingly imagined the baby strangling. She pushed that thought from her mind. “How’s the baby doing?” Now Michelle was talking to herself. “No Doptone out here. I haven’t felt it move since sitting by the tree.” She rubbed her belly, as if to comfort the unknown creature inside her, the one she knew so well and not at all. Please be okay. She adjusted her hips slightly on the towel. And another contraction grew, and she rang out her song, mouth and cervix singing together. She yelled in agony and pleasure. And opened her eyes to see awe in Olivia’s face. “Hair. I can see the head and hair.” The contraction softened and the head slipped back up inside. But it wouldn’t be long now. “Oh, excuse me,” a deep voice spoke. A tall black man stumbled backward away from them. Neither had heard him approach. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” He turned away. “Wait!” called Olivia. “Don’t go!” Joseph Johnson waved both hands at them. “No thanks.” He had been on his way to the waterfall when he heard Michelle yelling. But these ladies were clearly… “We could use some help here!” The black woman between the white woman’s legs was calling him back. He tried not to look too closely at them. He threw back over his shoulder, “I’m not really into group sex.” Too bad, though, because the way the black woman held herself, bare breasts erect and queenly. She was like one of the trees. It was very... Lord. Better get out of here. Olivia finally realized what the man was on about. All he could see was her kneeling topless with her face in Michelle’s vulva. “Can’t you tell the difference between oral sex and giving birth? Man, the woman is having a baby! This is an emergency!” Joseph’s stomach dropped and he felt abruptly hot, then cold. Fine sweat moistened his skin. He looked from Michelle to Olivia, then bent down on one knee. “Okay, look, I’m going back to the path to tell my friend to go call an ambulance, and I’ll stay and help you here.” He disappeared.
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Michelle and Olivia Olivia saw that he left his backpack, so he wasn’t an apparition. Michelle was pale and sweating. “Friend or foe, Olivia?” “Friend. I think. He came over here to help because he heard you scream.” “Don’t let him touch me.” “I won’t. Maybe he has some juice.” Olivia unzipped his pack and found a Tropicana orange juice. “Not From Concentrate,” Olivia read from the cardboard package. “Just like your birth plan.” She opened it and handed it to Michelle as Joseph returned. “I have some gorp in here, too, and peaches, if you want,” he said. Michelle shook her head as she gulped down the juice. She’d have to trust Olivia’s judgment that he was okay. She looked at him very closely. Thirty-something. A wedding band. That’s good, at least he’s seen a bloody vagina before. Maybe. Olivia resisted the urge to put her shirt back on. As if she was going to pull it out from under Michelle. Anyhow, Michelle had her entire privates hanging out, what were two little tits? “We need your towel,” she said to the man who was good-looking in a non-flashy way. Joseph handed her a blue striped towel from his pack. “She’s an obstetrician, but I have no training, so she calls the shots. You just sit tight and don’t touch her. “ Olivia spoke in her most commanding voice, like her mother’s stern instructions on proper church behavior. “And wash your hands.” Joseph nodded and washed up with his own water bottle. He had come back, when she could tell that he would rather have taken those long legs out of the woods over to the nearest pay phone and done his duty that way. For some odd reason this made her eyes water, and she blinked back this sudden emotion. “Ahhh, ahhh,” began Michelle, sitting forward and grabbing her knees. “Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh,” she keened, as Olivia murmured, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it.” The elipse of the baby’s head formed a cat’s eye as it once again emerged, dark curly hair clearly visible, Michelle’s hands on either side. Joseph felt like he had walked into a vision, joining Olivia and Michelle, the tree, the towel and the earth beneath them. Oh Lord, Lord, Lord, was all he could think over and over again like a mantra. When the contraction was over, the head slipped back inside a bit, but not all the way. Michelle felt inside with two fingers, touching the fuzzy head. A baby. Her own baby. Was it time to try to gently deliver the head between contractions, when she would have more control? She would be less likely to tear that way, which would be a real problem out here in the woods. “OK, Olivia, get ready. I’m going to try to slowly push the head out between contractions. Get that clean towel ready to wipe the baby’s face.” Olivia grabbed their clean towel. “No, wait, actually, you need to push on the baby’s head, and hold it back from coming out too fast.” Olivia handed the towel to Joseph. “Here we go.”
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Michelle and Olivia Michelle sent a little push down through her abdomen, and felt the head slide further down. Olivia pushed on the baby’s head. “But be sure you’re not pushing on the fontanelles!” Olivia looked at her, panicked. “Not on the soft spot! Push on the sides of the head where it’s hard bone.” Olivia placed her fingers as much to the side of the emerging head as possible, and felt gently with her thumbs for the edge of the soft spot in the middle of the head. There it was. Her fingers were fine. The slide of the head changed to a burn as Michelle’s body stretched around the widest part of the head. Hold it, hold it, Michelle mentally coached herself, keep it slow. Then the baby’s head slid silently out, facing her right thigh. Her child was half born. The baby was beautiful, serene and blue. It looked dead to Olivia, but Michelle seemed entirely unconcerned. “Wipe its face.” Michelle checked for a cord around the neck herself. None. Almost home. A new nameless emotion crept into Michelle’s awareness. Longing. Longing for her baby. “Okay, now put one hand on each side of the head, over the ears, and pull gently down and out so the top shoulder will slide out.” Olivia pulled, but nothing happened. Michelle made involuntary moans and pushed along as Olivia pulled. “Pull a little harder.” How hard was hard when it was a baby’s neck? Olivia had no way to gauge this. “I am pulling hard.” She could feel Joseph move slightly by her side, he was pulling with her, somehow. “OK, then pull up and out,” commanded Michelle. But the baby remained firmly half-born. “Harder! Pull harder, up and down!” Olivia pulled more firmly on the baby’s head. “Oh me,” breathed Joseph. Shoulder dystocia! thought Michelle, the baby’s shoulders were caught inside the birth canal behind the pubic bone, either because the shoulders were large or because the umbilical cord was short. This was how babies died of brain damage as blood engorged their heads, unable to return because the neck veins were crushed in the birth canal. They had one minute, two tops. “Olivia, reach your thumb inside and try to turn the baby to a new angle. Please.” “It won’t turn. It won’t turn!” “All right then, keep pulling. You,” Michelle grabbed Joseph’s shirt, “push down on the baby, here,” indicating her upper abdomen. “Push down and out.” Joseph put his hands on Michelle’s belly and pushed, Michelle pushed as if to birth a horse, Olivia pulled, and the baby lay serenely unmoved. A sob escaped Michelle. Help! thought Joseph. For these women, for himself. He could see the headline: Black man assaults white woman in labor, baby dies.
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Michelle and Olivia Michelle grabbed Olivia’s upper arm and pinched her hard. “Olivia. You have to pull hard enough to break the baby’s collarbone.” Olivia’s face crumpled into tears. “What! I can’t do that, Chelly!” “Livvy! Please! Please, Livvy. You have to or the baby will die! The collarbone is designed to give way. It will heal. Do it!” Tears poured down her face, but Olivia pulled, pulled hard as images of dead mangled babies went through her mind, pulled until she felt a sickening snap. The baby shot out of the birth canal, so slippery that she only just caught it on her left wrist. A whitish-blue baby with a mottled purple head. Covered with slippery white stuff, she was a girl, and, apparently, dead. “On my abdomen. Put the towels on top of her. Now rub her gently with the towels. Oh, my girl, my girl, come on, baby! Come on, sweet girl. Take a breath! Take a breath!” Michelle crooned, rubbing the baby vigorously with the towel. The strangely taut umbilical cord tethered the silent infant at her lower abdomen as Michelle and Olivia rubbed her with towels. A tiny gasp. Michelle flicked her finger sharply on the bottom of the baby’s foot. A breath. They rubbed more vigorously. Another breath, like a hiccup. Michelle flicked the baby’s feet, Olivia rubbed the towel over the baby’s heart, and Joseph whispered, “Come on, baby, it’s a good world here, come on. Open your eyes and look at your mama. Come on!” Another breath, then a sharp cry, a cry that rang out the fanfare of her arrival in a widening circle that cut through them and resounded in the woods beyond. The baby cried and Michelle cried and Olivia cried and even Joseph wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. She was here. She was alive. As she cried, her mottled face turned red, then pink, except for blue around her mouth. “More blankets,” called Michelle. “More blankets,” repeated Olivia, and Joseph unfolded his blue striped towel and laid it on the baby.
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