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"No, you don’t, Katherine!" I know that sound well I jue of the red-flowered carpet, and skid across the shiny wood floors in ’s ready! Katherine showed no signs that she was in hard labor or any labor at all Maybe that’s how it is with stillbirths; the woet rid of the baby I wouldn’t know In the births I’ve attended before, the infants were alive, at least for a while

I have packets of needles with suture in case Katherine tears, I have clean cloth pads, I have sterilized scissors, I have oil to help the vagina stretch, but everything’s wrapped in my satchel downstairs, where I left it by the front door

"Bitsy!" I call "Bitsy! Mary! Help!" A door downstairs flies open, and bare feet pound up the stairs "Soain I don’t knohy I said "Mrs Kelly’s bag" Mrs Kelly, uardian, inia, and I’ain

"Mr MacIntosh!" Ordinarily I don’t have fathers in the rooive birth--they can’t take the intensity--but I need someone fast

The husband arrives in his white-and-blue-striped paja uy with the build of an ex-athlete gone to seed Mary and Bitsy, still in their nightclothes, their eyes white and wide in their brown faces, their dark braids flying, crowd in behind hi"

I’ breaks She understands now that it’s not a bowel ain and squats on the floor She’s unconcerned about the expensive red carpet, aware only of the terrible pressure, the need to push I put ht there, as round and hard and war baby’s head

I’d read, in Mrs Kelly’s worn text The Principles and Practice of Obstetrics by Joseph DeLee, that stillborn babies, when held in the womb for more than a week, start to decoet squishy

"No, you don’t, Katherine! Up on the bed" I twist her around and guide her backward Bitsy lowers her down and gets clean towels underneath her Mr MacIntosh still leans against the rose-covered wallpaper, his face so white it would make the sun blind

There’s no tiloves I just purchased froer’s Pharmacy, so I place rips the sheets, wide-eyed and frightened, staring up at the chandelier I motion to Bitsy to lift the woman’s head

"Look in my eyes, Katherine Look at ht here You don’t have to push Your ill do the pushing If you pop the head out, you’ll tear" Out of the corner of ht of the father as he swoons and slides down the flowered wall, but we let him lie there

"Okay, Mary, be ready with a towel to wrap the baby" I’ that the child

The head, with dark hair, turns and ees between my hands, first the brow, then the chubby cheeks, then the chin "Pant, Katherine, pant!"