Текст книги "The Secrets of Midwives"

Автор книги: Sally Hepworth

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

18

Floss

People tended to show their true colors in a crisis. Running for the hills with their heads covered or diving headlong into battle to save their peers. In my case, there hadn’t been a battle—except, perhaps, the one inside my chest. Nonetheless, Lil had shown her true colors. She was a hero. And I’m sure she felt like she’d been to war.

She’d spent the past week ferrying my things over to the hospital, talking to doctors, cleaning the house. She’d called Grace and Neva daily with updates. She’d made so much soup that she filled the icebox and most of the refrigerator. She couldn’t have got more than a few hours’ sleep each night. Now it was time for me to show her what I was made of.

She perched opposite me on the sofa. Like props, mugs of steaming tea sat in front of us but I knew we wouldn’t pick them up. After what I had to say, we’d probably need something stronger. At least, Lil would.

“So,” I said to her. “I suppose you want to know what has been bothering me.”

“I would.” Lil straightened up, her face a painful shade of earnest. “More than anything.”

I sucked in a breath. “Okay,” I said.”Here goes.”

Kings Langley, England, 1954

Elizabeth cradled her baby in the crook of her arm. The baby was small but healthy, with a tuft of copper hair and almost-white eyelashes. Like Evie said, the baby had obviously got what she needed from Elizabeth. And despite what Elizabeth had gone through, she managed to protect her daughter.

“What are you going to call her?” I asked.

“I … don’t know.”

I cast my gaze down at the baby—pinker and more perfect than I could ever have imagined. “Well.… she’s rosy-cheeked. How about Rosie?”

“No.” Elizabeth’s voice was tight. “Not Rosie. Rose is Bill’s mother’s name.”

I raised my eyebrows. Elizabeth never spoke badly of Bill or his family. But fatigue had a way of bringing out the truth.

“I’ll name her after my mother,” she said. “Can you take her?” She tried to hold out the baby, but didn’t have the strength to lift her. “I have to deliver the placenta.”

She was right, of course. Still, I was used to new mothers fighting to keep their newborns close, in some cases even when they needed to use the ladies’ room. I reached for the little bundle wrapped snugly in the towel and sat on the bed next to Elizabeth so they could still be close. I couldn’t resist peeling back the towel for a better look. Her arms and legs were long and lithe like Elizabeth’s, and her face was dainty. I couldn’t see any immediate resemblance to Bill, a fact that pleased me no end.

I wrapped her up again and watched as the placenta expelled itself. Then, while Evie tended to a minor tear, I held the baby out to Elizabeth again. “Would you like to try feeding?” Although she was likely to have a low milk supply due to her poor nutrition, the sucking would help the uterus contract and return to normal. Information Elizabeth, of course, knew. So I was surprised when she shook her head.

“You don’t want to feed?”

“No. I feel sick, Floss.”

“It’s probably adrenaline.” I placed the back of my hand against her forehead. “You look a little pale. Why don’t you let the baby snuggle against you, listen to your heartbeat—?”

“For heaven’s sake, Floss, I don’t want her!”

From the stool at the end of the bed, Evie raised her eyebrows, mirroring mine.

“All right, all right,” Evie said. She kept her voice light, but her expression was anything but. She gestured for me to feel Elizabeth’s abdomen as her own hands were covered in blood. I did.

“Feels a little boggy,” I said.

Evie peeled off her gloves and rinsed her hands in the bucket of warm water by her feet, then took a seat at Elizabeth’s side. I picked up the baby and moved out of the way.

“Can you look at me, love?” Evie said to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, can you look at me?” When Elizabeth still didn’t look, Evie grabbed her chin and turned it to face her. Her eyes were unfocused. “Floss, put the baby in the bassinet.”

Evie didn’t yell, but the urgency in her voice made the hairs at the base of my neck stand on end. She felt Elizabeth’s forehead with her palm, then reached for the thermometer on the bedside table. I raced to the bassinet and set the baby down.

“Go to my bag. There’s some sterile gloves in the top, put them on. I want you to very carefully check the opening to her cervix. Just do exactly as I say.”

Although I was only a junior midwife, I knew enough to know that I should be worried. I somehow got my shaking fingers into the gloves and lowered myself onto the stool at the end of the bed.

“Okay,” Evie said. “You’re feeling for a lump, a blockage, a clot. It might be small, it might not.”

Elizabeth’s knees had fallen apart and I started my examination. Any concerns I had that I wouldn’t know what a clot felt like were put to rest when I felt a soft mass at the entrance to the cervix. I circled the base of it. It was a clot; of that I was certain. A large one.

“Okay. I want you to pull it out.” Evie’s voice was calm but urgent.

“Evie—” I said, “—it’s big.”

“Just give it a gentle tug. If it’s a clot, it will come free.”

I nodded, gripping the mass between my knuckles. I winged a prayer, then tugged. There was a large spurt of bright red blood from Elizabeth’s vagina—enough to soak the towel beneath her bottom. It was followed immediately by a second spurt.

“Dear Lord,” I said. “She’s hemorrhaging!”

“Get hold of her cervix!” Evie yelled, kneading Elizabeth’s abdomen from the outside. “Hold it closed and massage. Massage, Floss! We need to get it contracting or she will bleed to death.”

I did as Evie asked, forcing my gaze from Elizabeth—lying peaceful-looking on the bed—to the rivers of blood that streamed from her. Come on! I kept massaging. Our Father, who art in heaven … Beside me, Evie also prayed. We needed prayers. The flow seemed to be slowing. Usually, I would locate the nearest phone to call the flying squad, but that wasn’t an option now. It was a two-mile bike ride to the nearest phone booth, and Elizabeth wouldn’t last that long.

“She’s contracting,” Evie said, after a few—five?—silent minutes had passed. “How is the bleeding?”

“I can’t see any bleeding,” I said. “But my hand is in there, it’s hard to tell.”

“Take your hand out, Floss. I’ll keep massaging from the outside. We need to know what is happening.”

I hesitated. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” Slowly, I released the neck of the uterus, and a gush of blood followed my hand.

“So?”

“It’s heavy.”

Evie pushed me out of the way, reaching inside Elizabeth now with an ungloved hand. I massaged Elizabeth’s abdomen. Her uterus felt spongy. Panic hit; a fist to the gut. Contract, Elizabeth! Contract. I kneaded the fundus aggressively. Elizabeth was drenched in sweat and pale. Too pale. She was in shock. “Evie—should I try to get the baby to suckle, do you think?” I asked. “To help the uterus contract?”

Evie was barely visible at the end of the bed, but I saw her shake her head. I could hear her panting with effort. It would be okay. It had to be okay.

A minute passed, then another.

We continued massaging, inside and out, in silence.

Ten minutes passed.

Evie’s panting slowed, then stopped.

Fifteen minutes passed.

My breathing also quieted.

Elizabeth was still, like she was asleep.

The silence was eerie. I watched what I could see of Evie’s face, waiting for direction. Her frown, etched so deeply into her forehead before, had disappeared, replaced by a … a different expression.

“Evie?” I asked. There was a wobble in my voice that, for some reason, I wanted to conceal. As if its presence were admitting something I wasn’t ready to admit. “What … what do you want me to do?”

Evie met my eye over Elizabeth’s belly. Her expression was frighteningly blank.

“Nothing, Floss. I don’t want you to do anything.” Her eyes closed. “She’s gone.”

19

Neva

I was awake most of the night. After Patrick drifted off to sleep, I wondered about what he’d said. Was it possible that the father could swoop in and demand fatherly rights? I’d said no definitively when Patrick asked, but … if he were to find out … perhaps that was exactly what he’d do? Perhaps that was the reason I was keeping this secret? If so, my secret, like a rolling snowball, now had the power to hurt Patrick too.

When I arrived at the birthing center the next morning, Anne took one look at me and ordered me into one of the birthing suites for a nap. No one was in labor and she wanted to make sure I was rested enough to do a delivery if someone did come in. Usually I would have protested, but not today. The appeal of catching a few winks was too hard to resist.

When I woke, the sun was high in the sky. A chorus of highpitched giggles rang in the hallway and then the door opened and Patrick appeared beside the bed. He kissed my mouth. “Good morning, princess.”

“Don’t let the princesses in the hallway hear you call me that.”

“Ah, but you’re the crown princess.” He kissed my nose. “Can I get in?”

I ignored the stirring in my loins that screamed yes, Yes, YES, and instead arranged my features in what I hoped was a skeptical expression. “Are you a mother in labor?”

“You guys get into bed with the clients? How unprofessional. Not to mention unhygienic.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I have a joke.”

“Hit me.”

“What’s the difference between a pregnant woman and a model? Nothing, if the pregnant woman’s boyfriend knows what’s good for him.”

Patrick smiled softly. “But you’re more beautiful than a model, pregnant or not.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Hopeless charmer.

“So … is this where we’re going to have this baby, then?” Patrick swaggered over to the chair and picked up a pillow, inspecting it playfully.

“Not necessarily this room, but yes. I like it here.”

“Me too.” Patrick nodded. “Oh, I almost forgot! I had a phone call from the Board of Nursing this morning. About your mother.”

“You did?” With everything else going on I’d forgotten about the investigation. “What did you say?”

“I told her what happened. That the baby and the mother were never in any danger and that Gillian was in as good hands with your mother as she would have been with any ob-gyn.”

“You said that?”

“It’s true. Hopefully that will be the end of it. What a waste of taxpayers’ money, investigating someone like your mother when there are all sorts of cowboys around claiming to be medical professionals.”

His face was completely earnest. It occurred to me that he was exactly the kind of person I wanted to spend my life with. “You are a good guy, you know that?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Speaking of your mom, is she going to deliver the baby?”

I snorted. “What do you think?”

“Then who is?” He sprawled onto the bed on his stomach and rested his chin in his hands. “I guess I should know this.”

“Susan,” I said.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be there?”

I hesitated. I’d assumed it was a given that Patrick would be there. It hadn’t occurred to me to even ask. “Oh, um … well it’d be good to have a pediatrician in the room. And people will expect it. You being the father and all.” I watched for a reaction, but Patrick remained infuriatingly blank. “Do you want to be there?”

He crossed his arms, making a great show of thinking it over. “I think I would, yes. I can hand you ice chips and mop your forehead, that sort of thing.”

I suppressed a smile. “Good, then.”

Patrick rolled onto his side, his hand skimming the length of my belly, back and forth. He frowned, then pressed down sharply just above my pubic bone.

“Um, ow!” I half laughed, half gasped. “What are you doing?”

Patrick ignored me, feeling along the curve of my stomach, pressing down now on the highest part of the mound. “Did you know the baby was breech?”

“It’s not.” I smacked his hand playfully and replaced it with my own, feeling what he had felt. I located the head and pressed down. “See. The head.”

“Hey—I’m not an ob-gyn, but from the lie, I’d say it was back here, legs here, head here”—he pointed to the pelvis—“breech here.”

“Um, I think I would have noticed if my baby was breech.” I lay flat and felt my stomach properly. Back, legs, head … bottom … I paused, felt again.

Patrick winced. “Told you.”

I felt again. He was right. Right down at the bottom of my pelvis were the soft edges of the buttocks.

“It could still turn,” he said.

“Maybe, but…” I felt it a third time. “It’s unlikely at this stage. Guess I won’t be delivering at the birthing center after all.”

I tried to roll into a sitting position, but got only halfway up before I started to fall back onto the bed. Patrick gave me a push. “Hey. You okay?”

“Not much I can do about it, is there? I guess I’ll need a C-section.” I shimmied to my feet.

“We don’t know that for sure.” Patrick also stood. “Why don’t we go see Sean, see what he says?”

“No. It’s fine. A C-section is fine.”

“Seriously? You’re so dedicated to natural birthing—”

“Are you trying to upset me?” I smiled.

Patrick continued to frown. “Why don’t I take you home? You must be tired.”

“Thanks, but I’m on until five P.M. And since I’ve slept most of the morning, I’d better get busy.”

“There’s no one in labor.”

“We do other things besides deliver babies, Patrick.” Again, I smiled to show I was being lighthearted. I didn’t want Patrick worrying about me. He was doing enough. “I’ve got postnatal rounds. You go. It’s your day off.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you later.”

Patrick leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Later.” He ducked and planted a kiss on my stomach. “See you later too.”

I smiled until he was out of the room, and for a good minute after he left. But once I was sure he was definitely gone, I sank back onto the bed.

My baby was breech.

All the images I’d had of myself pacing the floor, sitting on a birthing ball, lying in the tub, panting and pushing my baby out—it juxtaposed starkly against the image of lying flat on my back, having my baby extracted from me like a tumor. All the women I’d seen turned into warriors before my eyes—it would never be me.

It didn’t escape my consciousness that I was being a hypocrite. All those women I’d reassured on the operating table that the magic of motherhood had nothing to do with how the baby came out? At the time, I’d believed that was true. In theory, I still believed it. But now that I was charged with the same outcome myself, I felt a little cheated.

Abruptly, I stood. I slipped into my shoes and told Anne to call me if anyone came in. Then I hurried toward the hospital maternity ward. Sean was at the nurses’ station, leaning over the desk and telling a joke or story that, judging from the stifled laughs from other staff, was either inappropriate or about one of the patients. Marion stood nearby, her lips pursed. Her frustration at not being able to get into Sean’s inner circle had clearly morphed into intense dislike. I’d seen it happen before, with other doctors, but I doubted Sean would care. I waited until the punch line had been delivered, then tapped Sean’s shoulder.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure thing.” Sean was unnaturally cheery. “What’s up?”

I was about to ask him the same thing when I noticed his wife, Laura, standing beside him.

“Oh, Laura. Hi.” I swallowed.

“Hi, there. Neva, right?”

Neva. She knew my name.

I nodded. “How are you doing?”

“I’m pretty great, thanks for asking.”

She looked pretty great too, considering. Her hair was a couple of inches long and done in a messy pixie style. She wore a full face of over-the-top makeup, which included blue eye shadow that somehow, really worked on her. “We’ve just been to see the doc.”

“Is everything—?”

“Wonderful!” she said. “The tumor is barely visible, can you believe it?”

I couldn’t believe it. “You must be ecstatic. Are you going out to celebrate?”

“No, headed home like a boring married couple,” Laura said, but the way she smiled at Sean made them seem more like loved-up teenagers. “Did you need Sean?”

“It can wait.”

“No, no.” She grabbed Sean by the elbow and shoved him toward me. “Please. Talk.”

I swallowed the enormous lump in my throat. No wonder she’d been the one to turn Sean from a womanizer into a one-woman man.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” she said to Sean. “And I’ll see you soon, Neva.”

“Thanks, Laura. And, um, great news.”

Laura wandered down the hallway breezily. After her appointment, it seemed, she didn’t have a care in the world. Sean and I waited until the elevator doors closed and she disappeared from sight.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I just wanted to run something by you.”

We stepped into an alcove. Sean’s face was apprehensive. I hadn’t spoken to him properly since he found out I was pregnant. I suppose I couldn’t really blame him for being nervous. I decided to cut to the chase.

“My baby is breech.”

He managed to look relieved and concerned at the same time. “Oh, Nev. I’m sorry.”

“So I guess that means you don’t know of any new and hugely effective procedures to turn babies this late in pregnancy?” I forced a laugh.

“I wish.” He looked genuinely sad for me. “You can always try, but—” He touched the top of my belly and pressed down. “—I don’t like your chances.”

“And I don’t suppose you know anyone who would deliver a breech baby vaginally?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Surely you wouldn’t want to try?”

“No, I guess not.” I sighed, deflated.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You and Patrick all ready for the baby?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

We both shuffled a little.

“It’s funny,” Sean said. “Patrick never mentioned that you two were seeing each other. Back then, I mean.”

I tried to look Sean in the eye, but he evaded my stare. “Does Patrick tell you everything?” I asked.

“No.” His gaze shifted to my belly. I didn’t breathe. “So you’re definitely sure about your dates, then?”

“Yes. Definitely—”

Before I could register what was happening, I was in Sean’s arms. He squeezed me, too tight, one arm around my waist, the other pressing my head to his chest. I smiled at his obvious relief and allowed him to hold me briefly. When he started to loosen his grip, I stepped away.

“That’s great. It’s … really exciting for you and Patrick. You’ll make great parents. I always knew he was in love with you.”

“You … did?”

“I have eyes. Most people thought you were in love with him too.” He laughed. “Obviously they were right. Anyway, it’s great that you guys have finally got it together.”

I felt my cheeks warm. Was it possible that Patrick and I had both been into each other all this time? How had I not seen it? Particularly when Sean had?

“Well, I’d better run,” he said. “Laura’s waiting.”

“Go, go,” I said. I gave him a push, then followed him out of the alcove. Marion stood nearby, watching Sean hurry toward the elevator, then her eyes snapped back to me. It might have been my imagination—or perhaps the fact that I’d had very little sleep—but I could have sworn she was giving me a dirty look.

20

Grace

I’d delivered four babies since my license was suspended. Robert knew nothing of it. Each mother had been given the facts, and each of them decided to take her chances with me as their midwife. Three out of the four had even paid me.

I’d managed to explain my absences to Robert with tales of early morning yoga and helping take care of Mom, but as it happened, he wasn’t asking many questions anyway. He’d been working long hours and when he was at home, he was distracted. I didn’t blame him. He’d been carrying the burden of our family’s financial pressure alone for months. Not anymore. All my payments had been collected in cash and were stashed in my office in a large yellow envelope. With the tax that I’d saved, it’d be enough to make our first few mortgage payments, if it came to that.

Tonight Robert was his usual reticent self. He sat next to me on the couch, staring at sitcom after mindless sitcom. When I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, I said, “How are things at work, Rob?”

He blinked as though he’d been asleep or forgotten I was there. Then he did that long sigh-through-the-nose thing. “Oh … you know. Could be better.”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

He smiled. It reminded me that it had been a while since I’d seen that smile. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow, what?”

“Wow … that’s very non-Grace of you. In a good way. It actually sounds like something Floss would say.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “What would I say?”

Robert curled his hands around an invisible neck in front of him. “What is going on with you? I demand you tell me this instant or I will snoop through your phone and wallet, looking for clues!” He adopted an affected, womanly voice that most certainly did not sound like me.

“Oh, yeah? Well, how about you?” I slumped back on the couch and stared at the television. I made my voice deep and bored-sounding. “Work’s really intense.” I grunted. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Robert burst out laughing. “Have I been that terrible?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “But I forgive you.”

Robert’s face took on a somber hue. “Today we all had to fill out a document that asked what we actually do. Basically, making it easy for them to see who is expendable and who isn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved his hand. “Not your fault.… What about you?” he asked. “When is the investigation over?”

“A week or two, I think.”

He smiled. “You’re handling this like a trouper, you know that, Grace?”

I thought of the four deliveries I’d done since I was put on notice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up the remote control and shut off the television. “Ready for bed?”

Outside, the sky wasn’t even completely dark. I glanced at the clock above the television and frowned. “It’s eight fifteen.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

We smiled at each other. Then the phone rang.

“I’ll get rid of them,” Robert said, heading for the phone. He winked as he lifted the receiver to his ear. “Hello? Yes, she’s right here.” He held the phone out to me. “It’s Gillian.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I stood and took the phone. “Gillian? Is everything okay? How is the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Gillian’s voice was steady but small. “She’s doing really well actually. We have a meeting next week with a plastic surgeon that Dr. Johnson recommended to discuss her first surgery. Everyone’s been really optimistic that it will be repaired by the time she starts school.”

I hadn’t realized how stiff my body had been until it started to soften. “That’s … that’s … wonderful, Gillian. I don’t know what to say. It’s fantastic.”

“It is fantastic. Look, I know we’re not supposed to be communicating.”

“No we’re not,” I said, remembering at the same time as she said it. “But I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“And I’ve been thinking about you. I can’t believe you’re being investigated. And, I’m really sorry, but I think I’ve made it worse.”

The boulder in my stomach, which had disappeared for the last few, jokey minutes with Robert, came back instantly. “What do you mean?”

“The investigator contacted me and I told her the complaint was ridiculous, and that you didn’t do anything wrong. I answered all her questions, but … I think she is going to twist what I said.”

“What did you say?”

“That you didn’t inform me of the risks of waiting to suture a third-degree tear. I did say that I would have insisted on going with my baby anyway, and that it wouldn’t have mattered if you did inform me. But the investigator, she zeroed in on the fact that you didn’t inform me and kept asking questions about that. I should’ve just said that you did inform me. I wish I had. I just froze when she asked me, and then I … I thought she would know if I was lying. You didn’t inform me, did you? Perhaps I forgot?”

“No, I didn’t.” Robert, who was still standing there, pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the bedroom, and I nodded. “The investigator is right, I should have,” I said to Gillian. “And you were right not to lie. That might have made things worse. I appreciate you calling to tell me, and I’m sorry you’ve had to be involved in any of this.”

“But will you get into trouble? I feel terrible.”

“If I do get into trouble, it will be my fault, not yours. Really, Gillian, you shouldn’t worry about this. You’ve given your statement honestly which is exactly what you should have done. You need to focus your energies on your darling daughter. Leave this investigation business to me.”

“You really are an angel, you know that? I don’t know how you can be so strong through all of this. You’re amazing.”

“No, you are amazing. As for me, if the Board of Nursing finds me to have been negligent, it won’t be because of something you said. It will be because of something I did. And I’ll have to face the consequences.”

“Well, no matter what they find, I’ll be calling you to deliver my next baby.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Gill. You take care.”

“You too.”

I ended the call and slumped into the chair. And with Robert waiting for me in the bedroom, I finally felt some empathy for him. Turns out life could be quite the libido killer.