Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith
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think everything is going to be fine, even though it’s more than four weeks early. When you were here last Sunday, we gave you medication to help the lungs develop. And we’ve managed to keep the baby in the womb for nearly a week. At this stage, every day helps.” The doctor placed a hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll do our best to get that baby delivered safely and in your arms.”
Juliet wasn’t sure if Mark had already left the hospital or if he was waiting outside the room until after she’d been examined. Of course, she couldn’t blame him for leaving—if he had. And it was okay. She’d never planned on having a birth coach or anyone to support her during labor.
But when Dr. Hart stepped out of the room and Mark popped his head inside the door, she felt a rush of relief.
He made his way to her bedside. “How’s it going?”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “And scared.”
“Are you hurting?”
“It’s tolerable.”
He took the seat beside the bed. When the back of his chair swayed in movement, a little-boy smile lit his face. “Hey, it rocks.”
Before she could respond, Beth Ann, the dark-haired nurse she’d had last time, entered the room. She greeted them, then started an IV and hooked up a monitor to Juliet’s tummy.
Mark looked a bit sheepish at first, but before long he was asking questions about the screen that graphed the baby’s heart rate and another squiggly line that reflected the length and duration of the contractions.
“What’s normal for the baby’s heart rate?” he asked Beth Ann.
“She’s sleeping, so one-twenty seems to be normal for her. But when she wakes up, that will increase to one-forty or so. And you’ll see some little black lines along this area that will indicate her movements.” The nurse handed Juliet a remote call button. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while. And I’ll come back and check on you in about two hours.”
“You’re leaving for two hours?” Mark stood and raked a hand through his hair. “What if something goes wrong?”
Beth Ann smiled. “We’re constantly monitoring her from the nurse’s station. We can see this screen in there. And if anything changes, I’ll be right in.”
Mark shoved his hands in his pockets. A grimace indicated he wasn’t pleased that the nurse was leaving. He slid a look at the monitor.
“Hey, wait,” he called to Beth Ann. “There was a little green light that looked like a bell. And now it’s yellow. What does that mean?”
“It means that something is happening in one of the other birthing rooms.”
“Is someone in trouble now?” he asked.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean trouble. It means that something is happening. In this case, the woman in birthing room three is being prepped for delivery.”
“Oh.” His words indicated understanding, but his expression was clearly one of concern, worry. He glanced at Juliet, a fish-out-of-water expression in his eyes.
She would have loved to have taken a picture of him at that moment, something to keep forever. But another dull pain began in her back, then spread to her stomach, as the womb that had once sheltered her baby began to force the child out into the world.
Juliet closed her eyes, breathing with the contraction like she’d learned from the birthing video she’d checked out of the library. She wasn’t sure whether the Lamaze techniques worked or not, but it did keep her mind focused on something other than the pain.
“It’s winding down,” Mark said, coaching her to hang on, to stay on top.
He’d said he would stay for “a bit,” and she appreciated whatever time he shared with her.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss him when he decided to leave.
Thirty minutes later, Mark had gotten into the swing of the labor routine. He kept track of the contractions, telling Juliet when to expect another, when a pain was peaking and when it was starting to ease. He even found himself breathing with her, which was probably goofy. But what the heck?
More than once, he thought of his sister, Kelly. Thought of her going through this by herself. Alone. Frightened. In pain. Bleeding.
But if he focused on that, if he allowed the guilt to slip back in, he’d drive himself crazy. So he forced the image from his mind, zeroing in on the petite woman who held his hand and the child who was struggling to be born.
Time was measured by the minute lines on the monitor, as Juliet’s contractions came quicker and lasted longer. Still, he repeatedly looked at the clock, hoping the two hours would be up and the nurse would return. Juliet was really hurting, and he hoped they would give her something to ease her pain.
As the door creaked open, Beth Ann entered the room. “I think I’d better check you. Your contractions are getting closer and appear to be quite strong.”
“I hope I’m four centimeters,” Juliet said. “Dr. Hart said she’d order an epidural then.”
Mark stood, but instead of leaving, he pulled the curtain, giving Juliet privacy. Surprisingly, he was feeling more comfortable about being in the room. And she seemed to be glad he was there and had thanked him more than once.
About an hour ago, she’d asked him to massage the small of her back, something she’d said helped. So they’d fallen into a routine. Each time a contraction started, she’d roll to her side and he’d rub until the pain eased.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Beth Ann said.
“What’s wrong?” Mark flung back the curtain and stepped forward, just as the nurse was removing her gloves. “That was quick, Juliet. You’re almost eight centimeters dilated.”
“What’s that mean?” Mark asked.
“It means I’m in transition,” Juliet said. “And it’s too late for an epidural.”
“It also means her labor is progressing faster than usual, especially for a first baby. I’d better call Dr. Hart. It could be a quick delivery.”
Mark’s heart dropped to the floor. The baby was coming?
Now?
The nurse hadn’t seemed too worried, but then she was probably trained to stay calm in front of patients. But before Mark could give the scary situation much thought, Dr. Hart entered the room and things began happening at a pretty good clip.
He probably ought to slip out during the hubbub and let everyone do their job, but a particularly hard contraction struck, and Juliet’s pain-filled gaze latched onto him like a drowning woman grasping for lifeline.
Mark couldn’t move, couldn’t leave. As if having a mind of their own, his feet slowly made their way to her bedside. “Hang on, honey. You’re doing great. The baby will be here soon.”
That ought to be a comfort for her, but it brought on another flurry of anxiety for Mark. Would the baby be okay? Would it have all its fingers and toes? Would they whisk it away to some baby ICU?
He didn’t know how much time had passed. It didn’t seem like very long to him. All he knew was that Juliet didn’t appear to be hurting as bad.
“I feel like I have to push,” she said.
“Hold on a minute.” Dr. Hart prepared for delivery, then glanced at Mark. “Are you going to stay in here?”
“Who me?” Mark asked.
“I’d…like you…to stay,” Juliet said, her voice coming out in huffs and puffs. “If you’re…okay with it.”
Hell, he ought to escape while he had a chance. But he’d