Shadow Heir

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think I might be in labor.”

“Has your water broken? Are your contractions more than five minutes apart?” Before I could even muster an answer, she turned and yelled, “Charles, wake up! Just like we practiced!”

And to my astonishment, it appeared they really had been practicing this. I was glad someone had because I certainly hadn’t. Most of what I knew about childbirth came from TV, when people would boil water and make bandages out of sheets. I was pretty sure modern medicine had advanced past that, but I hadn’t bothered taking any sort of labor class. There’d been too much else going on, and I figured I could always do it “later.” I’d kept telling myself I had plenty of time. In fact, that was the problem.

“It’s too early,” I said from the backseat of the Reeds’ car. Candace had taken it upon herself to drive because she was certain Charles would “follow the speed limit.” He rode in the passenger seat, carrying a bag they’d long ago packed on my behalf. “This has to be something else. I’m only ... what, twenty-nine weeks? I’ve got eleven more to go.”

“Twins come early all the time,” said Candace, in a matter-of-fact tone that made me think she’d been doing a lot of reading up on the subject.

“But why would mine?” I argued, knowing I sounded like a petulant child. “I’ve done everything right. The doctors always say everything’s fine with me.”

“Sometimes nature has its own ideas,” said Charles in that gentle way of his.

Indeed it did. When I was admitted to the hospital, the obstetrician on call was initially optimistic that they might be able to halt this labor and prolong the pregnancy, even though my contractions were picking up in frequency and intensity. Her words relieved me, even though she also mentioned something about future “bed rest” that made me uneasy. Still, that panicked voice inside me kept repeating, Too early, too early! If we could delay this, we had to, even if it meant me staying immobile and miserable. Health reasons were key, obviously, but there was also the simple fact that ... well, I wasn’t ready for my new arrivals just yet.

Once I was in a room and the doctor was able to examine me more closely, her story changed. “I’m afraid they’re coming whether you’re ready or not,” she told me, face serious. “I don’t know what kind of birthing plan you had, but we’re going to have to do an emergency C-section. They’re not turned the right way. Pretty common when twins come this early.”

Was she kidding? I didn’t have any plan, let alone a birthing one. My doctor in Ohio had also mentioned caesareans were common with twins. I admired the efficiency of the procedure but wasn’t thrilled about being cut open—or the extra recovery time. Still, wasn’t this exactly why I’d chosen to come to the human world for delivery? I’d wanted to be in the hands of modern medicine, and this was as modern as it got.

“Okay,” I said resolutely. Not that I had a choice. “Let’s do what we have to.”

Things moved quickly after that. In some ways, that was good. It gave me little time to worry because someone was constantly giving instructions or doing something to me. I was taken to an operating room with a flurry of activity, Candace by my side in scrubs. An anesthesiologist inserted something in my spine, and like that, all feeling below my waist disappeared. It was strange to say the least, but I was glad to be free of the pain of my contractions.

Whenever I thought of surgery, I thought of being knocked out and waking up later. So, even though I knew this spinal method was better, there was some part of my brain that said it wasn’t natural to be awake while people were operating on you. The medical staff erected a small curtain above my waist so that Candace and I couldn’t see what they were doing. I could feel it, though—yet had no pain from it. There was just the pressure of a knife in my skin and muscle. I winced.

“Are you okay?” asked Candace worriedly. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I assured her, trying to put on a brave face. “It’s just ... strange.”

I had an easier time with the thought of monsters beating me up and tossing me around than calmly allowing a surgeon to cut into me. I wondered if that came from living among the gentry for so long or if it was simply my nature to resist being helpless in the hands of others.

Between the sheets and numbness, it wasn’t easy to tell how they were progressing. So, I was caught off-guard when a nurse said, “It’s the girl.”

She lifted the squirming baby up to give me a quick look, and I felt dizzier than any drug could have made me.