sitz bones, pushing the very base of her pelvis forward.
Oh, oh!
I hoped that meant I was taking the edge off the pain.
For the next contraction, three minutes later, I tried thumbing the last few vertebrae on both sides of her spine, but that did nothing for her. I switched to the dimples of Venus at the base of her back; I set my knuckles into them and leaned hard.
Any better?
Delia Garrett sounded preoccupied: A bit.
These tricks of counterpressure weren’t in any manual, just passed down, midwife to midwife, though the more stern of our profession didn’t approve of anything done to relieve pains they considered natural and productive. But I was firmly in favour of whatever helped a woman keep up her strength and get through.
In the silence, Delia Garrett sank back against the pillows and pulled her nightgown down. Her eyes were shut as she muttered, I didn’t want this baby.
A sound of footsteps behind me. I could see by Bridie’s face that she’d caught that.
I took Delia Garrett’s hot hand with its manicured nails. It’s natural enough.
Two seemed plenty, she confided. Or if my little girls could have had more time…it’s not that I wasn’t willing to have a third, only not so very soon. Am I dreadful?
Not at all, Mrs. Garrett.
Now I think I’m being punished.
None of that! Rest and breathe.
And Bridie was by her side, gripping her other hand. Doctor’s coming.
Oh, oh! A wave took Delia Garrett.
In the next respite, I got the woman on her side and had Bridie cup her right hand around Delia Garrett’s right hip and set her left flat on the small of the back. I started the rotation. Like pedaling a bicycle, see?
Bridie asked, Is it?
It baffled me that this young woman seemed to lack experience of the most ordinary things—bicycles and thermometers and unborn babies. Still, she was so grateful for everything from skin lotion to ashy tea. And how quickly she got the knack of whatever I taught her.
Delia Garrett ordered, Don’t stop.
I left Bridie to continue the pelvic tilts and went to check on the other two.
Fiery-faced, Ita Noonan was tossing and turning. I was at a loss as to how to quench this fever without our usual standbys, aspirin and quinine.
Mrs. O’Rahilly, how’re you doing?
The young woman shivered and shrugged.
Her pangs were still twenty minutes apart, according to my notes. I suggested, Have a sleep if you think you could drop off.
I doubt it.
Maybe walk a bit more, then?
Mary O’Rahilly turned her face to the pillow to muffle her cough. She clambered out and started pacing around the bed again, a lioness in a too-small cage.
Delia Garrett let out a long groan. Can I start the bloody pushing?
Panic flapped in my chest. Do you feel the urge to bear down?
She snapped, I just want to get this over with.
Then please wait a little longer, till the doctor comes.
A mutinous silence. Delia Garrett said, I believe I’m leaking.
I checked. Hard to tell amniotic fluid from the water that had dripped from the compress, but I took her word for it.
Just then a boyish stranger in a black suit swept in and introduced himself as Dr. MacAuliffe, a general surgeon.
My heart sank. He looked no more than twenty-five. These inexperienced doctors rarely knew one end of a woman from the other.
He wanted to do an internal, of course. At least he wasn’t slapdash about hygiene; he asked for boiled rubber gloves. He had a brief conversation with Delia Garrett while I fetched a paper packet and then unwrapped it for him. He soaped and nailbrushed his hands and snapped on the gloves.
I got Delia Garrett’s thighs up at a right angle to her back, her bottom sticking out over the edge of the bed, to give the doctor more room to work.
When he began, she yowled.
MacAuliffe said, Well, now, madam—
(He’d clearly judged from her southside accent that she should be addressed that way rather than as missus.)
You’re coming along very nicely indeed.
That was vague.
He tugged the gloves off.
I gestured to Bridie to put them in the bucket of items to be sterilised.
Fully dilated, Doctor? I murmured.
Ah, so it seems.
I gritted my teeth. Couldn’t he tell? If he was wrong and the rim of the cervix was still in the way, and Delia Garrett pushed hard enough to make it swell up and block the passage…
MacAuliffe told her, Just take your ease and let Nurse Power look after you.
Her cough was a harsh bark.
I asked, May I give Mrs.