Part Ten
Part Nine
Snitch didn’t know what he dreaded more; Camilla’s cries with her contractions, or her iron grip on his hand. While he kept his face hidden in one of her pillows, he held her hand as he had promised he would. He hadn’t anticipated her grasp being so solid or painful.
“What time is it?” Camilla moaned between contractions.
“It’s eight thirty-two.” Jenny replied.
“Now?” she directed to the midwife.
“Not now.” Came the reply. “You’re still too small.”
She seethed through gritted teeth. “It’s been almost eight hours! How much longer do you think this will take?”
“There’s no telling.” The midwife answered. “You’re almost there, but I’ve been in this career for years. It can take you another hour, or even a day.”
She howled and squeezed Snitch’s hand. “I don’t know how I survived eight hours. I can’t survive another twenty-four!”
“I’ll go tell your father.” Jenny offered, leaving the room.
Camilla panted heavily as another contraction began. “Oh Dean, I can’t do this! I can’t!”
“You cin do it, you cin do it.” He muffled from her pillow. “I know ya can. Ya gotta.”
“I can’t do this anymore! It hurts too much!”
“If ya decide ya can’t do this, ya’ll die!”
“I already feel like I’m going to die!” she gasped raggedly. “In fact, I think I’d rather die than keep this up!”
“Hush, Camilla!” the midwife ordered. “I’m estimating that you won’t be here the entire night. It’ll be all over before morning.”
“That’s not helping.” She rasped.
Snitch looked up for a brief minute to look at Camilla. Substantial pain seemed to rack her entire body as she writhed pitifully with her contractions. Her face and red hair were damp with sweat, as was the white birthing shift she was wearing now. But something about her was not right.
Although the way she looked now was most likely normal, she was rather pale and her limbs seemed too tense. Her free hand clutched the post of her canopy bed, and the muscles in her arms seemed too tight. The way her throat moved when she gave a cry or even breathed raggedly worried Snitch.
Lightning streaked across the sleet trailing diagonally her windowpane. What a night for a child to be born on. There was darkness, a storm, and cold weather. It almost seemed like a bad omen for the child. Were Camilla and her baby in jeopardy? When Camilla went into labor, she said that something was wrong. Her words now were almost proved true.
‘Ya gotta make it, Camilla.’ He thought. ‘If you don’t make it, I’m gonna lose ya. And you’re gonna take your baby with you. Hold on, you’re strong and stubborn. You can do this!’
The alarm clock resting on the top of her armoire ticked away the minutes, then one hour and another. It was nearing midnight, and still no sign that the baby was ready to be born.
“How close are you contractions, Camilla?” the midwife questioned.
“I don’t know.” She forced past panting and wheezing. “Maybe a few seconds between each one.”
“Then you’re almost ready. Just hang on for a little while longer.”
“Hear that, Camilla?” Snitch voiced. “Jus’ a little longer. Then it’s over.”
“I can’t do this.” She almost whispered. “I haven’t the strength left in me.”
“Yes, ya can! Your daughter’s countin’ on you! Yer gonna give ‘er this chance now, but it’s up t’ you t’ make sure she sees that chance.”
Her hammering heart seemed to slow, but past its normal beat. She was feeling weaker with every breath that left her body.
“All right, Camilla.” The midwife announced. “It’s time. When you feel your next contraction, I want you to push.”
“What if I’m feeling one now?” she moaned.
“Then go ahead and push now.”
She let out a bellowing wail and clenched Snitch’s hand and the post with her first push. It was at this time that Snitch pressed his face to her pillow again, unable to watch the event unfold before his eyes.
“You’re doing well, Camilla.” The midwife prompted. “It’s almost over. When your contractions start again, push with all your might.”
Her might was draining rapidly, and Camilla could feel it seeping from her veins. She was beyond exhaustion, and was beginning to see blinking colors flashing before her eyes. A heavy weight seemed to rest greatly on her chest, mainly on her heart and lungs.
If only she could sleep now. If she fell asleep, the pain would be gone. She could relax and no longer feel the presence of another being within her. But that being needed to come out before she could experience life. Camilla had to ignore all of her own troubles to end those involved with giving life to her daughter.
When the contractions began again, she pushed with all of her might as the midwife instructed. She felt a slippery feeling and her eyes bulged. Was her baby out yet?
“The head is out.” The midwife declared. “Just one more push and it should be all over.”
There was little to no strength left within her body. With what remaining strength she had, she grunted and pushed, then relaxed. It was over.
“It’s out.” The midwife stated. “But she’s got blood on her. Something could be wrong.”
Camilla was too worn out to understand what the midwife was saying. She could hear Snitch beside her, shouting something back at the midwife, but his words were unclear. She was so tired. Now she could sleep.
“Is the baby all right?” Snitch demanded.
“She appears to be.” Came the reply. “But if it’s not the baby’s blood she was covered in, then it’s the mother’s.”
Camilla strained her head and opened her eyes wide toward the soft wailing coming from Jenny’s arms. Jenny was holding Camilla’s baby as she cut the cord and readied to wrap her in a blanket.
“Where…are you taking her?” Camilla asked, unable to recognize her own voice.
“Your father said to have her taken away to the orphanage.”
Camilla shook her head. “No. No, let me see her.”
“I can’t. It’ll only make things harder for you.”
“Let me see her!” her voice squeaked in a whisper and tears trailed down her face.
“Let her see her baby!” Snitch hollered, nearly knocking Jenny over with his outburst.
Avoiding a conflict, Jenny did exactly as she was told. She set the baby on Camilla’s chest, then withdrew quickly. Snitch watched as a seemingly delirious Camilla touched her squirming baby with all the tenderness of a new mother and could only view in awe.
The naked baby recognized her mother almost instantly and her wailing slowly ended. She grabbed at Camilla’s shift and stared directly into her mother’s eyes. Camilla’s smile was enough for everyone to know that she loved this little baby.
“She’s so beautiful.” She whispered. “So…so beautiful…”
“Her bleeding is getting worse.” The midwife reported. “You, Jenny, call a doctor, now! She’s hemorrhaging!”
“Camilla?” Snitch asked nervously.
With a shuddering sigh, Camilla murmured “beautiful” one last time before her eyes rolled backward into her head.
“Camilla!”
The baby began to cry again, and Snitch yanked up the discarded blanket Jenny had left behind when she went for the doctor and wrapped it around the baby. She seemed to calm as she was cradled in Snitch’s arms, but Snitch couldn’t pay any attention to her. The color was rapidly draining from Camilla’s body.
“Do something!” he screamed at the midwife. “She’s dying!”
“There’s nothing I can do!” the midwife shot back. “She’s beyond my help. Only a doctor can save her now.”
Tucking the baby close to his body, Snitch left the bedroom, knowing that staying would only make matters worse. He fought the lump forming in his throat as he went downstairs to wait. Harry was sitting in his easy chair with a hand covering his eyes.
“She’s in danger.” Harry muttered to himself. “I shouldn’t have let her go through with this. She should have miscarried the child like I prayed for!”
The baby began to cry, alerting Harry’s attention. When he saw Snitch standing there with the wiggling bundle in his arms, a dark frown crossed his face.
“Get that thing out of here.” He ordered lowly. “Take it to the orphanage where it belongs!”
“No!” Snitch held the baby closer. “Camilla didn’t wanna give ‘er up. She loves ‘er daughter! She made that clear b’fore she went unconscious!”
“That baby is barbaric to society, and I will not allow it to stay in my home! Get her out of here, now!”
Snitch fled to his bedroom, wondering what he could do with the baby. She was still whining, and was also putting her mouth to his shirt, searching for a place to feed. She was hungry. Snitch shrugged and sat down heavily onto his bed.
“What am I gonna do with ya, kid?” he asked, setting her on his thighs. “I can’t feed ya or take care of ya like your mommy would do. An’ I’m not gonna take ya to th’ orphanage.”
He heard the door open, indicating that a doctor had arrived. He lifted the baby from his lips and set her on his mattress, then left the room to find out about Camilla’s condition. He and Harry waited outside her bedroom for the news.
The doctor emerged after several minutes, and he did not have good news. He was very grim when he gave his report.
“The midwife was right in saying that Camilla was hemorrhaging. It was caused from complications in the birth. She hasn’t stopped bleeding since.”
“Can you stop the bleeding?” Harry questioned.
“I can, but it will require surgery.”
“And after that?”
“Only time will tell. But I must operate immediately for there to be a greater chance of her surviving. She’s lost too much blood already, and if she loses any more, she will die.”
“Then by all means, get started now.”
The doctor nodded and returned to Camilla’s bedroom. Once the door close, Harry turned to Snitch with the anger boiling in his eyes.
“Get that baby out of here.” He growled. “If she’s the cause of my daughter’s death, then she’ll be left on the streets instead of the orphanage.”
“But Harry-”
“Get her out of here now!”
Snitch could no longer argue, nor could he do what he was told to. He rushed to his room, grabbed his hat, coat and other articles of clothing to keep his body protected from the storm outside. He bundled the baby as close to the warmth of his body as he could, then went out into the storm.
Thunder rumbled as he stood alone on the sidewalk, completely clueless as to what he could do with this baby. He could not take her to the orphanage if Camilla survived. If he took her to the lodging house, the baby would be safe, but having her fed was one thing none of the newsgirls could help with.
Then Snitch knew what to do. He could take the baby to Pie Eater and Kay. Little David was almost eight months old now, but Kay could still nurse a baby. Or at least, Snitch hoped she could. He hurriedly strode through the slippery streets, fighting the chilliness of the sleet and wind and the icy streets.
By the time he reached the right apartment building, he was soaked to the skin, but the baby was still warm. Though she was whimpering and fidgeting like nothing Snitch had ever seen before, she was safe. He was relieved to be indoors, although the apartment was two flights up.
He was completely out of breath once he reached the apartment. Knowing Pie Eater and Kay would be asleep by now, he pounded his fist against the door as loudly as he could. He heard Little David beginning to cry, knowing that this was sure to awaken his parents. He pounded again.
After nearly two minutes, Pie Eater finally opened the door, completely disheveled and holding a candle in his hand. He squinted his eyes when he saw Snitch.
“Snitch?”
He shoved past and entered the apartment. “It’s me.”
“What in th’ name of all th’ good that is left on this earth are you doin’ ‘ere at this time of night?”
Snitch opened his coat to reveal the baby. When Pie Eater saw the bundle, he glanced up at Snitch for an explanation.
“Camilla had ‘er baby.” He wheezed. “But she’s hemorrhagin’ now. Things ain’t lookin’ so good. An’ ‘er papa wanted th’ baby out of th’ house. I din’t know what else t’ do, but she’s hungry an’ weak an’ I needed someone now. Where’s Kay?”
“Hold it, Snitch. Ya can’t jus’ barge in here tellin’ me that ya gotta use my wife t’ feed a baby. What is she, a cow?”
“David?” Kay muffled as she rubbed her face with her hand. “What’s going on?”
“Kay, are ya still nursin’ your kid?” Snitch asked straightforward.
Her eyes were enormous at the question he asked. “That’s an inappropriate question.”
He held the baby out for her to see. “Does this answer it?”
“Whose baby is that?”
“Camilla’s, an’ Camilla could die now. Th’ baby’s got nowhere t’ go, an’ she’s gettin’ weak. Only you cin help ‘er. Please, Kay! Camilla wants it! She went unconscious tellin’ me that she thought ‘er baby was beautiful.”
Kay glanced at her husband, then back at Snitch. She had currently been weaning her son, though he still nursed from time to time. How could she nurse another child? Would this baby even take to her?
“Snitch, I don’t know what I can tell you.” She answered honestly. “She might not accept me. All babies know their mothers. I’m not her mother.”
“Her mother could die!”
She shrugged. “I can try, but there’s no guarantees.”
“Anything ya try will be good ‘nough.” He thrust the baby into her arms. “Take good care of ‘er.”
“I got th’ baby’s old cradle in th’ closet.” Pie Eater spoke up. “I’ll go get it.”
Now that everything seemed to be taken care of, Snitch began to realize how exhausted he was. He hadn’t slept or eaten in so long, and now he felt ready to collapse. Without another word, he slumped onto a nearby couch and fell right to sleep. Sleep eased the inner turmoil, but did not stop the tears that flowed from his eyes in fear that he was going to lose the love of his life.
* * *
