Page 30 of Cold as Hell

“Buttocks,” she says.

“Bum first?” I say, and I can’t help sputtering a small laugh.

April gives me a sharp look. “Yes, and that would be far more amusing if it didn’t pose a problem that I am not sure I can solve.”

Dalton cuts in, “But if Casey isn’t dilating, that’s okay, right? The problem would be if the baby was coming fast and in the wrong position. This gives you time to move her or prepare for a C-section.”

“I’m not dilating at all?” I say.

My sister snaps, “Do youwantto be, all things considered?”

“April…” Dalton says.

April mutters something and stalks off to yank a book from the shelf. Dalton moves up beside me as I lower my hands to my abdomen. The baby shifts, and I can feel the head up high. Another shift, and Dalton rubs my belly, as if to soothe the baby.

“How long has it been?” I say.

“Hmm?” He follows my gaze to the timer. “Shit. Right.” He frowns as he picks it up. “Seven minutes.” He looks at me. “Nothing since the last one?”

I prop onto my elbows. “Nothing.”

April comes over and checks again for dilation. I rest back on the table, holding Dalton’s hand. Minutes tick past. No dilation and no more contractions.

“False alarm?” Dalton says.

“False labor,” I say.

“No,” April says. “Prodromal labor. Which your obstetrician warned us to watch for.”

I wince. “Right.”

During my last scare, Dr. Kapoor had considered it might have been prodromal labor, but the symptoms had resembled a possible miscarriage, which is what put us all on high alert.

I continue, “Prodromal labor can be caused by abnormalities with the pelvis or uterus, which I might have.”

April brought over the book. “It can also be caused by the baby being in breech. Your body may be attempting to reposition her, in preparation for labor.”

“Does it mean we’re getting close?” Dalton leans over the book.

“Not necessarily,” I say. “But it does mean we should contact Dr. Kapoor as soon as we can.”

It’s good that I’m not in actual labor, given that the baby is in breech and we’re in the middle of a snowstorm. However, I’d feel a lot better about that if not for the “baby in breech and alsosnowstorm” part. It’s a reminder of just how many things can go wrong and just how isolated we are here.

And I’m bringing a baby into this life?

I shove away the thought. It’s my parents’ voices, telling me I’m being careless, selfish. People have children in far more remote situations all the time. The Yukon itself is dotted with dozens of tiny settlements, many without the resources we have. Dalton and Jacob were born and raised in the wilderness here—with a multiday walk to the nearest source of medical attention—and no one would ever accuse their parents of being uncaring.

We bring Storm over but stay at the clinic—none of us are getting any sleep while waiting to make that call. When morning comes, the first time we try, the satellite phone doesn’t connect. A half hour later, it does, and we reach Dr. Kapoor before she heads off to work.

“Dr. Butler’s assessment is correct,” she says as we gather around the phone. “It sounds like prodromal labor, which is not a concern in itself.”

“But the baby being in breech is,” I say.

“I can provide suggestions for how to facilitate a shift in position. The prodromal labor suggests your body is already working on rectifying that, and in the worst case, we’d be looking at a Cesarean section. Dr. Butler is, I understand, an accomplished surgeon.”

“She is,” I say before my sister can point out, again, that she’s not an obstetrician.

“All this is to say that if things go wrong, you should be fine,” Dr. Kapoor says. “However…” Her exhale sounds against the phone. “There are too many factors making me uneasy, Casey. I would like you to finish your pregnancy in Whitehorse. I understand you have a personal small aircraft, which alleviates theissues of late-pregnancy travel. Once you are in Whitehorse, you’ll be close to a hospital, with everything you might need. I’ve also been cleared to fly there myself, by private jet.”

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