Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Maternal and Child Health Hospital

Feng Xiaobao chuckled, “Why are you angry? I just didn’t want Tang Tian to be bored, so I gave her something to play with. It’s just a little trinket. If you want, I’ll let you try something bigger!”

“Oh? What’s that?” The Princess of a Thousand Golds immediately perked up, knowing that Feng Xiaobao always had treasures up his sleeve. Had she ever watched “Doraemon,” she would have realized that Feng Xiaobao was just like that cat, endlessly producing useful things.

She wanted to know, but Feng Xiaobao stubbornly refused to tell her.

Such a sly fellow, does he think not telling will make me beg him?

Well, if he won’t say, the princess knew exactly how to exploit his weakness. With a few clever maneuvers, Feng Xiaobao finally yielded, “A maternity and infant health clinic!”

A maternity and infant health clinic?

Feng Xiaobao explained its purpose: a hospital to ensure the safety and well-being of mothers and their children.

He introduced the concept of a “one-stop” service, where mothers receive care from prenatal checkups through childbirth and postnatal recovery, all guaranteed by the clinic.

Naturally, Feng Xiaobao couldn’t provide modern equipment; his approach was more of an integration of available resources.

He hired experienced old physicians specializing in fetal health, the best midwives, trained a group of Silla maids as nurses, and had the princess herself secure a plot of land at the Jade Rooster quarter by the banks of the Luo River. The land was prepared, the buildings renovated, and the maternity and infant health clinic was established.

Their clientele consisted of mothers from middle-class families and above, with private VIP rooms costing 100 strings of coins and six-bed rooms costing 30. For instance, Feng Xiaobao’s neighbor in the Xiushan quarter, whose husband dealt in fruit wholesaling and had some wealth, received a ten percent discount for being a neighbor and stayed in a VIP room.

On the appointed day, a comfortable carriage was dispatched to her home to bring her to the clinic, accompanied by a female nurse, so her family need not worry. This arrangement delighted her husband, who was busy with business in Luoyang and whose elderly parents remained in the countryside, leaving no one to attend to her.

Upon entering the spacious and bright lobby, she was greeted by a nurse dressed in a modern uniform, complete with badge and cap—a lovely female receptionist. In fluent Luoyang dialect, she smiled and asked, “Madam, how may I assist you?”

She presented her medical certificate—a parchment signed by both parties. The nurse checked the records and joyfully said, “Welcome, Lady Zhao!”

Escorted by her dedicated nurse, she proceeded to consultation room number ten, where Doctor Niu awaited her. Lady Zhao felt at ease, seeing the elderly physician in his fifties, her nurse by her side, and another female nurse in the room—all measures to ensure propriety.

Doctor Niu conducted a thorough examination, asking about all her conditions. The contract her husband had signed with the clinic included confidentiality clauses—the clinic was required to keep her information private, with penalties for any breach.

Doctor Niu was a former imperial physician, having served noblewomen in the palace until the empress rose to power and the emperor’s frequent illness caused the decline of the court ladies. He left the imperial hospital to practice independently, but managing a business alone was challenging. Thus, he accepted the princess’s offer to serve at the maternity and infant health clinic.

With his wealth of experience, he prescribed medicine to stabilize her pregnancy and recommended suitable dietary plans. Her dedicated nurse handled the medicine, packed everything, and accompanied her back home in the carriage, leaving Lady Zhao in high spirits.

From then on, every ten days, a carriage would pick her up for visits to the clinic.

As the due date approached, female nurses stayed with her day and night, with a carriage on standby at all hours.

When labor began, the carriage took her promptly to the clinic. It was a dark night, but the patrol guards, seeing the clinic’s emblem on the carriage, waved them through. Lady Zhao and her husband had never experienced such VIP treatment!

The clinic was ablaze with light, filling the expecting couple with hope.

From the entrance to the delivery room, the path was brightly illuminated, dispelling the darkness and lighting the way ahead. This lighting design was Feng Xiaobao’s idea—a seemingly small detail, but one that provided immense psychological support to mothers in labor.

A crowd gathered around her, bolstering her resolve, encouraging her, assuring her that with their support, she would surely deliver a healthy baby.

The combined effect of lighting and supportive people warmed her heart, making the ordeal much easier. She knew she wasn’t alone; many were there to help her.

Regardless of whether she was a VIP or in a shared room, all mothers received this level of care.

Willpower mattered greatly, and a cheerful mood increased the chances of a successful birth.

In the delivery room, all bedding had been washed with soap and sun-dried, then packed with fragrant herbs. The bundles were opened only when needed, and the mother was placed atop them.

Now it was the midwife’s turn. Before duty, she and her assistants bathed and changed clothes, scrubbed their hands thoroughly with soap, and then took their posts.

“Try your best!”

“Push harder!”

“Take a deep breath, you can do it!”

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Unlike other midwives, those at the clinic offered far more encouragement.

During delivery, the midwife’s hands touched only the mother, never anything else—except the soap and lye box.

If she perspired, the nurse nearby wiped her brow; she was never allowed to handle extraneous objects.

Everyone worked diligently, but sometimes, a comfortable life means the fetus is in an awkward position!

In ancient times, this was a terrifying predicament. At this moment, a sterilized silver instrument was handed to the midwife.

Obstetric forceps!

The invention of forceps was a tremendous leap forward in childbirth, allowing many babies who previously couldn’t be delivered to come safely into the world.

Midwife Granny Du, though using forceps for the first time in practice, handled them with steady, gentle skill. With a careful tug, she helped the baby emerge from the womb!

Her success was no accident. She had undergone extensive training; the clinic had crafted leather uteruses and dolls for practice from every conceivable angle, and Granny Du had participated in making them herself.

A gentle pat on the newborn brought forth a loud, clear cry—the child had arrived in the world!

Hearing the baby’s voice, the father was overcome with emotion!

Final procedures ensured cleanliness and hygiene. Lady Zhao recuperated in her private room, tended with care, provided with nutritious meals. By the time her child reached a month old, both mother and baby were healthy and robust, leaving with a portrait taken shortly after birth.

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The maternity and infant health clinic, established by the Princess of a Thousand Golds, was a resounding success!

The people of Tang were receptive to new ideas, the princess wielded considerable influence, and Luoyang was filled with affluent families willing to spend.

In truth, most of the clinic’s technology was well within the scope of the era. The use of forceps counted as “high-tech,” but the greatest contributor to success was cleanliness. Many infant deaths were caused by infections—chiefly due to inadequate sanitation.

But at the clinic, cleanliness was paramount. A healthy environment minimized germs and viruses!

The clinic made no secret of its use of forceps, allowing the technique to spread. Yet, other midwives’ success rates improved only marginally after adopting forceps—not nearly as dramatically as at the clinic.

They couldn’t replicate the clinic’s forceps, which were crafted from high-purity silver and rigorously sterilized.

This sterilization became institutionalized. In fact, the clinic’s success rested on its system; by enforcing strict protocols, any branch could ensure a high rate of healthy births.

With multiple clinics in the city, infant survival rates soared. People began to call the Princess of a Thousand Golds the “Goddess Who Brings Children,” and clamored for her to share her wisdom. Yet the true founder of the clinic—Feng Xiaobao—remained unknown, as he preferred it that way.

In public, the princess accepted credit, but among close friends, she candidly admitted that it was all Feng Xiaobao’s doing.