A Course in Miracles

Get dressed, eat breakfast, go to work, help a new life come into the world. It’s all in a morning’s routine for Dr. Carol Burton, an obstetrician at Glendale Adventist Medical Center.

Like millions of moms across the country participating in Take Our Daughters to Work Day, she had schoolgirls with her at her workplace Thursday. Two high schoolers were in the delivery room to witness, firsthand, her delivery of a child by caesarean section.

Neither of the teenagers were Burton’s own daughters, of which she has four.

“The three who are old enough have already seen all this,” said Burton, 40. “Even the 9 1/2-year-old has seen a C-section. After it was over, she had one thing to say: ‘I think that was really disgusting, Mom.’ ”

Burton paused to laugh.

“It’s the best birth control a parent could hope for.”

The students with Burton on Thursday were schoolmates of one of her daughters from the upscale, all-girls Marlborough School in Hancock Park, where students are given the choice of which mom they want to follow, based on which occupational path they want to explore.

Aran Paik, 17, and Cia Hunter, 15, were interested in medicine, in varying degrees.

“I’m thinking about it, but it’s a very competitive field,” said the soft-spoken Aran, whose father is a dermatologist.

Does she feel the calling?

“Doctors are important and all that,” she said. “But I think there may be too many of them by the time I am done with school.”

Cia has no reservations. “I’m incredibly interested,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. I’ve been planning for it since I was 5.”

Neither had ever seen surgery, but they didn’t seem worried beforehand about how they would react. “I’ve gotten stitches many times,” Cia said.

They had no problems in the bedside-manner department. When taken into a labor room to see the expectant mother, 37-year-old Linda Hernandez of Burbank, the teenagers were all smiles.

“Why did you want to have a C-section?” Aran asked.

“I only dilated to 5 for my first baby and it was not enough,” explained Hernandez, who is a CPA. “For the second, we knew we would have to do this again.”

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Cia asked.

“I already know it’s a boy,” said Hernandez, beaming.

The questions went on for a bit and then Aran asked about the thumping, bass-drum sound in the room. “That’s the baby’s heart,” said Burton, pointing to a monitor that was detecting the tiny pulse and amplifying it.

“That,” said Aran, dropping all reserve, “is really cool.”

Hernandez--accompanied by her husband, David, and the students--was wheeled into Delivery Room 2 at about 10:30 a.m.

The nurses welcomed the girls, who were dressed in scrubs, and gave them two important instructions: not to touch any of the sterile instruments and how to slump backward against the wall if they felt faint.

“There is no shame in feeling a little queasy,” said Burton. “Every once in a while, even we see things that make us want to turn around and vomit.”

Hernandez was numbed with a spinal anesthetic, and Burton made the initial incision with an electric scalpel.

“What’s that smell?” Cia asked.

“That’s the smell of burning flesh,” answered Burton, continuing to work.

Aran turned to Cia. “Are you OK?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” came the reply, and the girls nodded to each other reassuringly.

For the rest of the operation they were troopers. Burton and others on the medical team explained everything they were doing and encouraged questions.

“Does the baby come out crying?” Aran asked.

“We’ll know in a minute,” Burton replied.

At 10:52 a.m., Burton reached into the final incision and with a single sure move, lifted Mitchell David Hernandez into the world.

Even though she was wearing a surgical mask, it was easy to see that Aran was smiling, bringing her hands up to her face in excitement.

Cia watched intently, but showed no emotion. Then she said: “That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen.”

Later, standing in the hallway still clad in scrubs, the two students compared notes.

“It seemed so relaxed in there with everyone doing their work and then suddenly--Baby! There was a baby in the room!” Aran said.

But she is still unsure if medicine is for her.

“I think that or international relations,” she offered. “I’m keeping my options open.”

Cia was unshaken. “I think,” she said, “I have even a greater love for it now.”