Knocking Around Inside My Head: Weekend Write-In

The Doctor is in.... (#different)

The nurses huddled in the doorway whispering.

"Does she want a sheet or anything?"

"No, she hasn't been able to tolerate anything touching her all night."

Lying on her side with her back to the door Julia could tell they thought she couldn't hear.

"Where's Dr. Frye?"

"On her way in." Then in an even lower voice, the nurse said, "...she screamed 'where the fuck is the OB consult.'" The other nurse snickered.

"Well, five hours is a long time."

Julia remained completely still, her eyes closed. If she had known it was going to be this bad she would have been more scared than she already had been. The spinal had taken away the 'pain' but not the worst feeling she had ever felt in her life. When the screaming had stopped Richard and her sister Martha had fallen asleep. Julia still felt so awful. She tried to take ten slow deep breaths. She couldn't. And she had tried all night. Was this what it felt like to die? Ironic. She had thought she was plenty acquainted with labor and death. Maybe she should fear the later more too.

Dr. Frye burst into the room accompanied by Dr. White. For Julia, the two middle-aged women exuded a calm, no-nonsense presence. Experience.

"Do you have any questions?" asked Dr. Frye.

"I just want him to be ok," said Julia tearfully. Dr. Frye gave her a weak smile and patted her arm in such a way that said, 'you stupid emotional girl.' Julia didn't give a shit.

"You know both Dr. White and I had vacuum deliveries as well," said Dr. Frye sitting down and putting on her gloves.

'Joining the esteemed ranks,' thought Julia. The room filled with additional nurses. Richard stood bravely beside Drs. Frye and White. Julia pushed. The vacuum popped off. She pushed, again but again, it broke free. The temperature in the room increased several degrees. No one said out loud what everyone in the room, except Richard and Martha, already knew. They were headed to the operating room if it happened again. Julia pushed harder than she would ever remember pushing again. Martha screamed 'push' in her ear, but it was too much. Unable to speak she clocked her sister in the face with her fist. And suddenly she felt...eviscerated. Falling backward onto the bed, she pictured in her mind's eye the solider from All is Quiet on the Western Front, walking down the road carrying his bowels in his arms.

Her head lolled to the right and she saw a wet blue baby under the warmer. His arms spasmed in front of him, fingers wide. A nurse had oxygen clamped over his mouth and she rubbed him with a blanket. An extremely familiar sight. But this time was different. Her mind failed to comprehend. This was her child. 'Was he ok?' she wondered. 'Stunned,' came a voice from the deep recesses of her mind. 'Maybe?' Her gaze moved up to the nurse's face. It was relaxed and unfocused. Bored. Unconcerned. 'Oh, thank God.'

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word count = 500