Free Maternal Harbor by Marie F. Martin

have to get another one, but first I’ll check the old fashion way.”  She pulled a fetal stethoscope from a cabinet, placed the cold metal against Erica’s skin, and listened over all four quadrants of the bare abdomen.  She repeated the rotation, concentrating even harder, lips silently counting a pulse.
    Erica moaned as another pain spread from her back; she withered, lost in agony. “I have to lie on my side.”  She tried to curl as Florene pushed the call button on the bed.
    “Can I help you?” a scratchy voice asked from the small speaker.
    “ Get Dr. Klassen STAT,” Florene demanded.
    Erica grabbed the nurse’s forearm.  “What’s wrong ?”
    Florene placed her opposite hand over Erica’s taut fingers and patted.  “Honey, the doctor needs to check you.”  She met Erica’s stare.  “I’ll start your IV while we wait.”
    The painful prick of the needle was lost as another contraction dug into Erica’s loins, and she steeled the core of her mind against the cramp.  She rolled into a ball, trying to protect herself from the pushing, forcing, rendering.  Concentrating against the onslaught of the pain, she grew sharper, so terribly in focus.
    Moments later, Dr. Klassen burst into the room.  His eyes went immediately from Erica to Florene.
    Florene turned her back to Erica and whispered, “Heart rate is seventy.”
    Erica heard the words clearly.  What did a rate of seventy mean?
    “Get the H-P ultrasound,” he grabbed the stethoscope as the nurse hurried from the room.  “You have to lie on your back.”  He helped her roll and straighten out.  He repeated the listening pattern, then counted, watching the wall clock.
    Florene rushed back into the room, wheeling a cart with a monitor to the bedside.  She squeezed a tube of cold, clear jelly on Erica’s distended abdomen and handed the transducer to Dr. Klassen.  Immediately, he placed it onto Erica’s exposed skin and pushed down, slowly drawing it across the whole mound.
    “What’s going on?”  Erica tried to raise−to see for herself.
    “ Be still.  I’m searching for any sign of the baby’s movement.  When was the last time you felt kicking?”
    “ I don’t know.  This morning.  Maybe yesterday.”  Erica tried to relax but another pain arched her back.  She focused on the doctor’s face.   Why was he asking stupid questions?
    Dr. Klassen searched her eyes.  “Your baby’s heart rate is too slow.  We have to do a C-section right away.”
    Erica clutched her stomach.  “My Derek is fine.  He’d slow his heart for the birth.  I knew he would do it right.  We want only a natural birth.”
    The doctor turned to Florene and spoke softly.  “Tell delivery to prep for a stat C-section.”  He walked swiftly through the door without a backward glance.
    “I won’t be asleep when my son is born,” Erica yelled.
    “ Shush now,” Florene said.  “We need you calm.  Pant with your pains and they’ll ease.  We can’t give you any Demerol.  It might hurt the baby.”
    Erica hated the patronizing words.  She wasn’t an infant, couldn’t be controlled with a shush.
    Florene handed her a clipboard.  “Sign here.”
    “ What for?”
    “ It’s a consent form.”
    “ I should sign for a procedure I don’t think is necessary?”
    “ If you want your baby healthy, you better sign.  The longer you delay the worse it is for him.”
    A groan escaped Erica.  She cut off her sharp retort and signed her named with slashes of the pen.  She had to push.  Hard.
    “Pant,” Florene ordered.  ‘Now!  those pains have to slow down.”
    Erica panted in blind obedience.  Anything to help her son.  She counted silently, concentrating on each number, trying to blend into a trance as Florene and an aide pushed the bed from the room and down the hall.
    Double doors of a delivery room swung open, and they rolled through.  Hands lifted her onto a table and rolled her into a fetal position.  The