THE FLIGHT IN THE HELICOPTER SEEMED like something out of a movie. It didn’t seem real—not the blinking lights on the instruments, not the latex-gloved hands of the technicians, not the whirring sound of the blades above them. She couldn’t even sense any real movement, although she knew they were speeding through the air toward Cincinnati. She lay flat on her back, looking up at the smooth fiberglass interior of the aircraft.
“Too bad I can’t enjoy this—it’s my first helicopter ride,” said November faintly as one of the attendants wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
“It’s dark outside—you wouldn’t be able to see much anyway,” the attendant replied with a smile. “What’s your name, dear?”
“November Nelson.” She grimaced as another pain surged through her.
“My name is Joy. How are you feeling?”
“A little better. The pain stops and starts. But I’m pretty freaked out.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” Joy told her. “But you’re in good hands. We’re going to get you and your baby safely to the hospital.”
“I hardly think about her as a baby. I figured I still had a couple more months to get used to that idea. She’s just like this ‘presence’ who’s been sharing my space. You get what I’m saying?”
“Yes. I think I do.”
“Could you call my doctor?” November suddenly thought to ask. “Her name is Dr. Holland—Obioma Holland.”
“I’ll be glad to,” replied Joy. “But I don’t want you to worry—we have doctors on staff who will take good care of you until your doctor arrives. Okay?” Joy told the other attendant, “Call the dispatcher and have him contact Dr. Obioma Holland in Cincinnati. Let her know her patient, November Nelson, is in labor, and to meet us at Good Samaritan Hospital A-S-A-P.” The EMT nodded and proceeded to call.
“Thanks,” said November, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Babies born too soon can be pretty messed up, right?”
“It’s possible—complications can arise,” Joy replied carefully.
November started to cry.
“Relax, dear,” Joy said. “I’ve seen miracles on this job. Did you say it was a girl?”
November smiled. “Yeah. Her name is Sunshine.”
“Lovely.”
They flew for several minutes in silence. November tried to relax between the increasingly intense bouts of pain. She hadn’t felt the baby move in several hours, which terrified her, but she was afraid to say anything.
Finally Joy glanced out the window of the copter. “We’re here, November. We’ll be landing on the roof, then the hospital staff will take over as soon as the rotors let them approach. They’ll take you downstairs to labor and delivery, where you’ll be in the hands of experts.”
“I won’t see you again?” November said in alarm.
“My job is over,” Joy replied kindly. “You’ll be fine. And dispatch just told me that your mother is downstairs waiting. I’m sure she’s worried.”
“My mom can be a pain, but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with right now.” She could feel the helicopter land with a surprisingly gentle thud.
“I’ve got a mom too!” Joy said with a smile. “And soon you’ll be a mom as well. Lots of things fall into place when that happens.”
November grabbed Joy’s hand and squeezed it as she left the helicopter. “Thanks!” was all she had time to say before she was whisked into the hospital corridor and onto an elevator. Another huge contraction washed over her and she cried out.
“We’d better hurry,” she heard someone say. “I don’t think this baby is going to wait much longer.”
In the examination room, November was aware of only the edges of what was happening around her. Increasingly frequent horrible cramping spasms overwhelmed everything else. I can’t take this! My guts are going to explode! I’m going to die! I’m sure I’m going to die!
A calming voice broke through her wild thoughts. “November. Focus on me for a minute. There, that’s good. My name is Ling Yee. I’m your nurse, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
November nodded. “I’m scared. It hurts.”
“I know, but you’ll be just fine. Let’s get the rest of you undressed, sweetie,” Nurse Yee said. “I think you’ll be more comfortable in a hospital gown.”
“What about my clothes?” November asked frantically as the nurse helped her peel off the sweaty Douglass sweatshirt she’d been wearing. She felt like she was losing control of everything.
“I’m putting all your things into this bag labeled with your name—even your football game program.”
“I didn’t leave that in the car?” November asked in confusion.
“You had it squeezed pretty tightly in your hand when you got here,” the nurse said with a chuckle as she put November’s shoes and socks into the bag. “Was it a good game?”
“It wasn’t like anything we expected,” November murmured with a small smile. The smile disappeared as another contraction pulsed through her. She gasped at its intensity.
“Let’s roll, honey,” said the nurse. “You and this baby have important business to take care of tonight!” She popped a pillow under November’s head, pulled up the sides of the bed, and rolled her down the hall and into what November surmised was the room where babies were born.
All November could see were ceiling tiles and ductwork above her. She felt like she was in a movie with the camera floating someplace just beyond her vision. When she got into the next room, she looked at the masked faces above her and panicked. “I gotta get out of here!” she cried, trying to sit up. But when she tried, deep, concentrated pain enveloped her, and she fell back onto the pillow.
“Take it easy, now.” It was Nurse Yee’s soft, soothing voice. “Let’s see how dilated you are.”
November nodded, but tears trickled down her cheeks. She’d never been so terrified in her life. Where is my mom?
November could see only the circle of the light they had placed above her. Her body, and what the doctors were doing, seemed to be separate from her, as if all this activity was happening to someone else. Monitors were strapped to her belly, which undulated like she’d seen in those movies about aliens that take over a human body.
She felt a needle briefly sticking her arm as another IV was started, and noticed that everybody seemed to have cold hands, even under the latex gloves they wore. Cold fingers prodded her rectum and vagina to check on the progress of the baby.
She listened with increasing alarm to the faceless voices—clipped, serious, businesslike.
“Mother’s heart rate rapid and thready.”
“She’s fully dilated, doctor.”
“Uh, what does that mean?” November asked fearfully.
“That means your baby is ready to be born,” Nurse Yee told her.
“But I’m not ready for a baby yet!”
“Babies don’t care, sweetie. They rule!” Then, turning her attention back to the monitors, she said, “Blood pressure dangerously high, doctor.”
“The mother or the fetus?”
“Both.”
November heard another voice, even more urgent, say, “Fetal monitor indicates the baby is in distress.”
“I can’t find a heartbeat for the baby!” Nurse Lee cried.
November wanted to shout out and ask them what exactly was happening, but all she could think was, Is my baby going to die? What’s going on? Oh, please don’t let my baby die!
Finally one of the doctors said, “When you feel the next contraction, I want you to give me one huge push, okay?”
November nodded, her eyes shut tight in pain. She was drenched in sweat. Where is my mother? I can’t have this baby now! I don’t know what to do! I’m not ready! Ooh, my guts are going to explode! She felt like she was going to throw up out of one end of her body and have a bowel movement out of the other.
As the next contracting wave rolled over her, the doctor shouted, “Push! Push!” November pushed and pushed and pushed. She knew she had lost control of everything—her life, her body, even her thoughts. She could not stop screaming.
And suddenly the baby was out.
“It’s a girl,” November heard a voice say clearly. It might have been Nurse Yee.
“But she’s not breathing! Suction!” another voice said. November wanted to lift her head and see what was going on, but she had no strength.
“Come on, little lady, breathe for me!” another voice implored. Aren’t babies supposed to cry when they’re born? November thought fearfully. Why isn’t she crying?
“I have a heartbeat—but it’s weak.”
“Page Dr. Massey immediately.”
November looked pleadingly from face to face. What’s wrong? Please tell me what’s wrong! Where’s my mom!
Tears in her eyes, she tried to speak, but she couldn’t seem to remember how to talk. She found she had nothing left—not even the strength for a word or a prayer. She passed out.