Free Her Healing Ways by Lyn Cote Page A

through the chill darkness, Father, be with me tonight. Give me wisdom and skill.
    She was aware that there were Chinese immigrants in town. Ma Bailey had mentioned earlier that Mercy would have to take her laundry to the Chinese. How had these people found their way to the Idaho Territory? And why?
    Before long, the two of them arrived at the far end of town, where a group of small wooden houses had been built very close together. The Chinese quarter was, of course, set apart from the rest of the town.
    The man opened the door of one of these houses; a lamp was burning low inside. Two Chinese women were in the room, one sitting beside another who was lying in bed, obviously pregnant and in distress.Mercy’s nerves tightened another notch. Had she been called in too late? Would she be able to save both mother and child?
    There was a flurry of rapid Chinese. Mercy pulled off her wool shawl and tossed it onto a peg on the wall. Then she turned to the man. “Water. I need hot water. Now. ”
    He hesitated only a moment to repeat her request. When she nodded her approval, he hurried outside. She turned to her patient whose face was pale and drawn, and whose hair was damp with perspiration, all signs of a prolonged labor. “I am Dr. Mercy Gabriel.” Then she gestured to each of the women and asked, “And thee are?”
    The man returned with a bucket of water and hung it over the fire in the hearth as he answered for the women. “I am Chen Park. She Chen An, wife. The other, friend, Lin Li.” He bowed again.
    Mercy repeated the names and nodded. She began to lay out her birthing instruments on the table with a trembling hand.
    The young wife shouted again as an evidently strong labor pain gripped her.
    â€œHow long has she been in labor?” Mercy asked.
    â€œBefore dawn. I worry.”
    Nearly twenty-four hours of labor. Her hope for a healthy birth dimmed, but there was still hope for a live birth. Praying, Mercy nodded and washed herhands in the basin he’d just filled with fresh water. Please, Father, let the child and mother live.
    She motioned for the lamp to be held near and examined her patient. Chen An moaned and whimpered. Mercy didn’t blame her. She used her stethoscope to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. She thought she heard it, but the mother’s crescendo of moaning made it difficult.
    â€œThe baby is lodged in the birth canal.” Buzzing inside with worry, Mercy went to her instruments and selected a long, narrow forceps.
    They looked at her questioningly.
    â€œThe baby is stuck, can’t get out. I will help baby come out.” Mercy demonstrated how she would use the forceps. She didn’t like using pidgin English and sign language, but she didn’t have time for a long explanation.
    Praying still, she sprayed carbolic acid around the birthing site, made a quick, small incision, and proceeded to use the forceps. The woman writhed and moaned, obviously calling for help. When Mercy sensed the next contraction, she gently applied pressure and righted the baby’s head in the birth canal.
    Chen An called out louder, frantic. Mercy held the child in place. “One more, Chen An,” she coaxed. “One more push and this will be over.”
    The next contraction hit. Mercy held the forceps in place, keeping the baby from turning the wrong way. The baby slid onto the bed. A boy!
    She dropped the forceps and cut the cord. Withinseconds, she had the baby wrapped in a white linen towel, suctioning out its mouth and nose. In the lamplight, the little face was so pale. Mercy slapped the bottom of the baby’s feet. “Come on. Thee must breathe, little one.” She slapped the small soles again. Please. Please.
    Then in the silent, tense room, the baby gasped, choked and wailed. Chen Park whooped and laughed.
    Mercy felt gratitude wash over her in great swells of relief. Alive. She couldn’t help herself. She whirled on the spot like