The Doctors Who Came on the Day You Were Born Whispered Medical Terms (2)

“I’m going to check your BP. I’m putting the cuff on.”

I checked the blood pressure cuff wrapped around the mother’s arm, squeezed into the cramped helicopter cabin.

I had to rely solely on the numbers on the monitor.

[BP 140/90 mmHg]

[HR 105/min]

Her blood pressure was creeping up little by little.

Probably because of the contractions.

“Yes, her BP’s a little high for now, but… it looks like it’s from the labor. Nothing major so far. I’ll put in two lines. If she starts bleeding, we need to be ready to flood it in right away.”

I skillfully inserted an 18-gauge IV needle into the mother’s other arm.

“Yes… Doctor, it hurts… it hurts so much…”

The mother kept sweating coldly and gripping my arm tightly.

“Ma’am, breathe. Don’t hyperventilate. Slowly.”

I soothed the mother while glancing sideways at An Hyeon-jeong.

She was holding the device that measured the fetus’s heart rate between the mother’s legs.

“Fetal heart rate is 150. Still okay. The contractions are… ha, they’re down to every three minutes. And they’re getting stronger.”

An Hyeon-jeong’s voice came through the headset.

We’d basically finished the initial care after boarding the helicopter.

I’d hooked up the IV, attached the monitor, and checked the defibrillator pad placement.

Now it was just a race against time.

About twenty minutes left until we arrived.

We just had to hold out for twenty minutes.

If she could just bear down and grit it out for twenty minutes, she could safely deliver under the hospital delivery room’s warm lights.

Please… please give birth at the hospital. Please…

I fidgeted with the neonatal tube and laryngoscope in my hand like talismans.

I hoped I’d never have to use the equipment Son Jongun had prepared for me.

And that a miracle would not happen where this helicopter turned into a neonatal ICU.

But.

Right at that moment, along with that wish.

“Aaaahhhh!!!”

The mother let out a scream.

And then.

Pop! Splash—!

With a popping sound, something burst out from between the mother’s legs.

It was amniotic fluid.

And not clear fluid, either; fluid tinged with meconium soaked the sheet.

“OB doc! Her water broke!”

“Ah, no!”

As I shouted, a scream burst from OB doctor An Hyeon-jeong.

She reflexively lowered her head to check the mother’s condition.

Then she looked up and shouted at me, her face drained white.

“EM doc! That leg! Hold the mother’s leg for me! Just a second!”

In her urgency, she seemed to have forgotten even my name.

I’d become not Han Hyeonjae, but “EM doc” instead.

Ah, this lady forgot my name.

Of course, that wasn’t important right now.

Whether my name was Han Hyeonjae or some mutt, I just had to be a leg-holding machine right now.

I immediately stood up in a crouch.

The helicopter shook and I nearly toppled over, but I grabbed the bed rail and held on.

“Ah, yes! Captain! Can you keep our altitude exactly as it is right now? No up and down? Please make it as steady as possible!”

I shouted toward the cockpit.

We had to deliver now.

If the aircraft jolted, the baby could be jolted out or the mother could get hurt.

The pilot, without even turning around, raised his right hand and gave a thumbs-up.

Don’t worry. I’ll fly this thing as smoothly and leisurely as if you were riding in a first-class suite.

That was the vibe.

Maybe it was because he was Air Force.

“Ah, yes.”

Nice and straightforward.

And reassuring.

I grabbed the mother’s right leg.

An Hyeon-jeong already seemed to be fully in the zone.

“EM doc! Uh, what’s it called, fundal pressure(* Fundal Pressure, pressing on the abdomen) absolutely is not allowed! You know that, right? Do not press on the mother’s abdomen! Her uterus could rupture!”

“Yes, yes! I know! I won’t even touch it!”

In the past, if the baby wasn’t coming out well, they used to press on the abdomen to force it out, but now that was taboo.

Well, was it really a complete taboo?

Well, according to medicine as taught in most countries, it’s treated as taboo in most situations and in routine care.

Besides, this was a 35-week preemie.

If you forced it out, the baby could get a cerebral hemorrhage.

“Ah, the head’s…. Dammit, I can see it…”

The head was visible.

The cervix was opening.

There was no turning back now.

She had to deliver here.

“EM doc! What was that name again? Ugh, whatever! Anyway, grab behind the mother’s knees and pull them toward her ears! McRoberts! Just pull! We need to open the pelvis!”

“Yes, doctor!”

I wrapped my arms behind the mother’s thighs and pulled hard until her knees came up past her chest, nearly to her ears.

The cramped helicopter didn’t make it easy to get into position, but I somehow buried my face near the mother’s shoulder and pinned her legs down with my whole body.

“Ughhh! I can’t do it! I feel like I’m dying!”

The mother writhed in pain.

“Ma’am! Stay with me! Hold on, hold on! If you scream, you’ll lose strength! Push harder! Follow my breathing! Hup—push down like you’re trying to poop!”

An Hyeon-jeong stared straight into the mother’s eyes and shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Look at your navel! Lift your head! Yes! You’re doing great! Both the baby and you have to live! You’re a mother! Push! Good!”

“Uuuuuugh!!!”

The mother used her last bit of strength to bear down.

Three hundred meters above sea level, the helicopter’s vibration mixed with the mother’s screams and the medical staff’s shouts.

I clung to the mother’s legs as if I might crush them, while my trembling hand kept flicking toward the neonatal ambu bag and tube beside me.

If it doesn’t breathe, I’ll tube it right away.

“It hurts! It feels like I’m burning! It feels like I’m being torn open down there!!”

The mother threw her head back and screamed.

They say that when the baby’s head stretches the opening to its fullest on the way out, it feels like a searing burn, as if the flesh is being charred.

Supporting the mother’s lower back with both hands, An Hyeon-jeong shouted urgently.

“Don’t push anymore!! If you do now, everything will tear! Now relax! Relax your strength, ma’am!! Open your mouth and breathe! Short breaths!”

“Uuuugh… ha… haa…!”

“Yes, keep breathing like that! Good, just like that!”

Even in agony, the mother desperately tried to follow the doctor’s instructions.

I kept holding the mother’s legs while watching An Hyeon-jeong’s fingertips.

Was this really the same person who’d been scared of the helicopter shaking just moments ago?

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her gaze was straight and steady, and her blood-stained gloves were catching a life as it came into the world.

…Is this what an obstetrician looks like?

Was she really the one who’d been afraid of helicopters?

Looking at how focused she was, it felt like she’d forgotten the helicopter and everything else.

“Nurse. Please keep the mother’s oxygen mask from slipping off. Please keep holding it. The fetus needs oxygen.”

“Yes! We’re maintaining 10 liters!”

An Hyeon-jeong then carefully cupped the baby’s head as it poked out between the mother’s legs.

“Uh… let me check the umbilical cord. I’m checking now to see if it’s wrapped around the neck.”

Her fingers ran over the baby’s nape.

At that moment, the mother twisted again.

“Aaagh!”

“Hang on just a little longer! It’s almost out! Breathe, breathe!”

An Hyeon-jeong finished checking quickly and continued.

“It’s not caught, right? You can see the cord is fine too, right? I’m going to wipe the baby’s face. It shouldn’t swallow amniotic fluid. Give me some gauze, please. Hurry.”

“Yes! Here you go!”

Using the gauze handed over by the nurse, An Hyeon-jeong quickly wiped around the baby’s mouth and nose.

For now, my role was just to be a sturdy human support, holding the legs in place.

The OB doctor had the entire situation completely under control.

There was no room for me to get in the way.

“The shoulders are coming out now! The baby’s body is going to come out!”

An Hyeon-jeong lifted her head and met the mother’s eyes.

“The baby’s coming! Start pushing again now! Push hard! One last long push!!!”

“Aaaaargh!!!”

The mother’s final shriek burst out, punching through the helicopter engine noise.

At the same time, An Hyeon-jeong held the baby’s head and gently guided it downward.

“The shoulders are out! The anterior shoulder is out. EM doc, keep holding the legs! Yes, good! Do not press on the belly under any circumstances!”

Swoosh.

With a slippery feeling, the tiny life slipped out into the world.

And amniotic fluid mixed with blood and meconium gushed out all at once.

Small.

Maybe because it was 35 weeks, it was much smaller than I’d expected.

“It’s out!”

An Hyeon-jeong caught the baby.

Now it had to cry.

That loud, eardrum-splitting cry announcing its existence to the world.

It had to burst out with a wail of “waaah.”

But.

“……”

No sound at all.

Ah.

My grip tightened on the mother’s leg.

The baby.

Isn’t crying.

There was no movement.

It wasn’t breathing.

An Hyeon-jeong’s expression went cold in an instant.

She assessed the situation in 0.1 seconds.

So did I.

Fetal distress caused by placental abruption.

The placenta had detached early, cutting off the oxygen supply, and the baby had already been suffocating in the womb.

“Suspected abruption(* placental abruption), so I’m not doing delayed cord clamping. Clamps. Quickly!”

Click.

Click.

Two clamps bit down on the umbilical cord.

Snip.

The scissors cut the cord.

The connection to the mother was severed.

Now this baby had to breathe on its own.

But the child was still silent.

An Hyeon-jeong immediately turned and handed the baby over to the makeshift treatment table set up on my side.

“EM doc, here’s the baby! Start resuscitation right away! I’ll handle the mother!”

“Yes!”

And so, in the cramped helicopter, treatment split into two and began in earnest.

One side to save the mother, the other to save the baby that wasn’t breathing.

An Hyeon-jeong massaged the mother’s uterus as blood surged out, shouting all the while.

“Doctor! Open one ampule of Ervin right now! Hurry! And let’s run the pre-mixed oxytocin, a full liter at full drip! Her blood pressure can’t drop!”

I took the wet baby into my arms.

It was warm, slippery, and frighteningly light.

I laid the baby on a flat surface and tilted its neck slightly back to secure the airway.

The chest wasn’t moving.

The mouth was full of foreign material.

“The baby isn’t breathing, so I’m bagging it right away!”

I grabbed the neonatal ambu bag that Son Jongun had prepared and sealed the mask over the tiny face.

This child’s lungs had never opened even once.

The air I blew in had to become this child’s first breath.

Please.

I tightened my grip on the ambu bag and looked down at the baby’s face.

Let’s get you out of here and into your mom and dad’s arms.