by Lucy Clark
‘This isn’t getting your work done,’ she told herself as she stood and glanced at the clock. Quarter to four! Declan would be here soon. Her breath caught in her throat. Declan!
Rachael’s knees started to shake and she quickly sat down again. Declan. She closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. How was she going to tell him? How was she going to tell Joe? When Declan arrived, she knew that one look at her son would tell Joe the whole story. Ah, but Joe wasn’t here this afternoon. Hadn’t Helen said as much?
Hoping for a reprieve, she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she had to tell Joe the truth and she would, but she’d hoped for a little more time to come to terms with everything. Rachael bit her lip. Would Joe want to be a part of Declan’s life? She’d never lied to her son, and as he’d grown older they’d openly discussed Joe. She’d always told Declan if he’d wanted to find his father, she’d be there with him every step of the way. Thankfully, though, her son had decided against it and Rachael had been grateful.
‘Get through clinic,’ she said out loud, and stood again, smoothing a hand down her skirt. Hopefully, she’d be able to finish with her patients and head home before or even if Joe came back to the clinic tonight. Then she would discuss the situation with Declan and together they’d figure how to deal with it.
Rachael headed out to the waiting room. ‘Uh, Helen,’ she said softly. ‘My son’s due to finish school soon and as it’s just down the road, I’ve told him to walk here. I was hoping he could just sit in the kitchen and do his homework until I’m done? That’s what we did at the last practice I worked at and he won’t bother anyone. Sorry, I forgot to mention it before.’
Helen smiled. ‘It’s understandable with the shock you’ve had.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is he all right to walk here by himself?’
‘Sure.’
‘He’s not too young to be walking along a major road unsupervised?’
Rachael smiled nervously and cleared her throat, hoping Helen wouldn’t connect the dots too quickly. ‘Oh, he’s not little. Taller than me, in fact.’
‘Oh. OK. Do you want me to let you know when he arrives?’
‘Thanks. I’d appreciate it.’ She turned and picked up her next patient’s file. ‘Mrs Gibson.’ Rachael waited while her patient closed the magazine she was reading and levered herself up from the chair.
‘Oof. It’s getting harder every day to stand up.’
‘I remember the feeling. Come this way.’ Rachael’s patient list had been mainly made up of women requiring their pregnancy or baby checks. She’d had several toddlers in as well and realised that her predecessor, Alison, had obviously taken all the ‘family’ cases. That didn’t surprise her, knowing how Joe had never been interested in children and had declared he never planned to father any. If only he knew. She focused on her patient.
‘I overheard you telling Helen you have a son. Was he a big baby?’
‘Ten pounds seven ounces and one week early.’
‘Ouch. I’m sorry I asked.’
Rachael led Mrs Gibson into her consulting room. ‘Why don’t you climb up onto the examination bed first to save any unnecessary moving around?’ She helped her patient up. ‘Is this your first child?’
‘Third.’
‘Sorry. I haven’t had time to look at your notes.’
‘That’s all right. I’m sure there have been quite a few of us parading through here today. We’d all sit and chat in the waiting room and when Alison finished her day, we’d sometimes meet at the local coffee shop to complain about the frequent trips to the toilet and indigestion.’
Rachael laughed. ‘I remember. It was a long time ago but, yes, I remember.’
‘Just the one?’
‘Yes.’ Rachael pulled out the foetal heart monitor and together they listened to the baby’s heartbeat. ‘Perfect.’
‘You didn’t want to have any more?’
‘I was very young when I had my son, and after he was born I was in medical school and then working.’
‘You must have a very understanding husband,’ Mrs Gibson said.
‘Do you have any pain?’ Rachael neatly avoided responding to the other woman’s statement. Over the years, she’d found it easier to keep the wedding ring Joe had placed on her finger exactly where it was. Being a single mother had opened her up to all sorts of criticism and speculation from strangers. As Joe had taken care of completely battering her self-confidence, she hadn’t needed anyone else’s help to make her feel worthless.
Through medical school, after graduating and working extremely long hours at the hospital, she’d found the wedding ring afforded her some space from her colleagues as well as any unwanted attention.
Most importantly, though…she hadn’t been able to take it off. Now she was so used to wearing it, she often forgot about it.
‘No, no pain.’
‘You’re currently…’ Rachael reached for the file ‘…thirty-six weeks? Is that right?’
‘Well, you know, give or take a week.’
Rachael nodded. ‘Have you had a show?’
‘No. I didn’t with my other two either.’
‘OK.’ Rachael helped Mrs Gibson to sit up. ‘Were your other two early or late?’
‘Late. Both of them, and they still are. We’re always the last ones to leave places because the boys take so long to get their things together. Always the last to leave school because they just have to have one more go on the slippery-slip.’
Rachael smiled. ‘I feel as though I’ve had a trip down memory lane today. Now I’m used to endless hours of homework and pimple creams in the bathroom.’
‘Oh, stop.’ Mrs Gibson covered her ears. ‘I don’t want to know.’ The two women laughed.
‘Everything looks fine, Mrs Gibson.’
‘Wendy, please.’
Rachael nodded and smiled. ‘I’ll see you next week, if not before.’
‘Oh, this one will be late, just like the other two, and, besides, I’ve got so much to get done before the baby’s allowed to come.’
‘If you say so, Wendy, but contact me if you have any questions, although I’m sure you know the drill.’
‘Well and truly.’
Rachael wrote up the notes after Wendy had left, before going to get her final patient. It was four o’clock on the dot and she thought Declan should have been here by now. Then again, he’d probably stopped at the school library for some books. She forced herself not to worry.
‘Bobby Rainer.’ There was only one woman with a pram in the waiting room, a screaming baby inside, and Rachael motioned for them to come through.
‘Take a seat,’ she offered, as she sat behind her desk and checked the name of Bobby’s mother. ‘Tracy. What can I help you with today?’
‘Can’t you tell? Isn’t it obvious?’ The distraught young mother indicated the baby in the pram as she rocked it back and forth. ‘Bobby isn’t sleeping. It doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t get him to sleep at all. He just keeps crying.’
‘OK.’ Rachael stood up and went around to peer in the pram. ‘When did you feed him last?’
‘Just before we came.’
‘He’s your first?’
‘And last, at this rate.’ She sighed. ‘That makes me sound like a terrible mother.’
‘No.’ Rachael smiled. ‘It’s quite understandable to feel that way, especially when you’re probably not getting much sleep yourself. Mind if I pick him up?’
‘Be my guest.’
Bobby didn’t stop crying immediately when Rachael picked him up and she was silently pleased about that. If he had, it might have made Tracy feel worse. ‘OK, OK, calm down, mister. It’s all right,’ she soothed. ‘Does he usually quieten down when you pick him up?’
‘Eventually, but I’ve been doing everything the nurses in hospital told me to do.’
‘How old is he now?’
‘Four weeks.’
‘Feel longer?’ Rachael smiled as she asked t
he question.
‘Yes. I’m just so tired and I can’t sleep and I’m for ever getting up to him, and my husband’s been out of town on business for the past week and it’s just got worse.’ Tears sprang into her eyes and she took a tissue from a box on Rachael’s desk and blew her nose. ‘I just can’t cope and on top of it all I have my nosy mother-in-law hanging around, telling me what I’m doing wrong and how none of her children ever cried like this. I feel so useless.’
As Tracy began to cry, Bobby began to settle.
Rachael waited a moment before saying, ‘I know how you feel.’
‘You do?’ Tracy looked up in surprise.
‘Well, not about the mother-in-law but about being tired and feeling as though you can’t cope. I was only eighteen when I had my son. I was at a loss about exactly what I was supposed to do and how to settle him and when to put him down for a sleep and when to feed him.’
Tracy blew her nose. ‘I can handle a boardroom full of cantankerous old men, I can prepare documents, write reviews, organise functions, but can I handle my own son? No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just that they go through all the steps and what to do so quickly in the hospital, and the nurses are there to help you and then they just send you home and it’s as though some maternal gene is supposed to click on and mine hasn’t and I don’t know what to do,’ Tracy wailed, and started to cry again. ‘And he cries and he’s always hungry and then when he sleeps, I’m trying to get all the things done I need to do but he wakes up and…’ she shook her head ‘…it doesn’t work. I’m a failure as a mother.’ Another fresh bout of tears followed and little Bobby joined in.
‘What sort of help do you have?’
‘Help? What help?’
‘Friends? Family?’
‘My parents are overseas and none of my friends have kids.’
‘What about your mother-in-law?’
‘I’d hardly call her a help. All she wants to do is criticise me.’
‘Will your husband be away for long?’
‘He’s due back on Friday but I’m at the end, Dr Cusack. I need to do something. I can’t take Bobby’s screaming any more.’ Tracy looked at her imploringly. ‘What did you do? Tell me how you coped.’
‘I was living at home with my parents. My mum was fantastic. She didn’t take over but instead showed me the best way to do things. I honestly wouldn’t have coped if it hadn’t been for her.’
‘You were lucky.’
‘Yes.’ Bobby had quietened down again, snuffling a little. ‘Let’s take a look at you, mister.’ She carefully placed the baby on the examination couch, one hand holding him as his arms and legs squirmed. The instant he was supine again, he began to scream. She quickly felt his tummy, looked at his eyes, ears, nose and throat, but apart from noticing he was uptight about something, she couldn’t see anything wrong.
She undid his clothes and checked him for rashes but found nothing.
Rachael picked him up again, this time holding him more upright as she patted his back and soothed him.
‘Well? What’s wrong with him?’
Rachael walked back towards Tracy as she kept rubbing Bobby’s back. His crying had settled again and once more he sniffled. She rubbed her cheek on his soft, downy head, loving the feel. ‘Babies cry for many reasons. They’re hungry, need a nappy change, have wind, are too hot or too cold, over-stimulated, overtired or even because they’re bored.’
‘Bored? He’s only one month old!’
Rachael smiled reassuringly. ‘Yes, bored. He’s a male, after all.’
Rachael’s sexist comment managed to raise a smile from Tracy. ‘True.’ She blew her nose and put the tissues in the bin.
‘Does he spit up little bits of milk after a feed? When you burp him?’
‘Yes, all the time. He sometimes even vomits and then I have to start all over again.’
Rachael nodded. ‘Bobby has reflux.’
‘What’s that?’
‘After he’s had a feed, when you lie him down on his back, some of the milk mixed with stomach acid comes back up. In essence, it’s burning his throat.’
Tracy just stared at her son. ‘So something is wrong?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not just me?’
‘No,’ Rachael said softly.
‘I’m not a bad mum?’
‘No.’
‘My poor baby.’ A fresh bout of tears misted her eyes. ‘Look at me. I can’t stop crying.’
‘It’s quite normal, I’m afraid,’ Rachael said with a smile.
‘I’m so tired and I’m hardly sleeping and I can feel myself getting angry with him.’ Tracy stopped, a guilty look crossing her face.
‘You’re afraid you’re going to hurt him.’ Rachael said the words she knew were on the tip of Tracy’s tongue.
‘I’ve heard stories about mothers shaking their babies and I used to think it was so cruel and that they should use more self-restraint but…’ She shook her head. ‘I’m there! I felt like shaking him last night and it scared me to death. That’s why I came here today.’
Rachael stopped patting Bobby’s back and placed her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. ‘You did the right thing and I’m proud of you. You’re a good mother—and make sure you keep telling yourself that.’
Tracy’s smile was heartfelt as she hiccuped a sigh. ‘Thanks.’
Bobby had started to settle and was now just making a low groaning noise. Rachael could feel him getting heavier as he rested his head against her shoulder and realised he must be starting to go to sleep. ‘Tell me about your day. I know you probably feel as though you’re on a merry-go-round but just start somewhere.’
‘I feed him, I change him, I burp him—just like the nurses showed me. I try to put him in his cot or on a rug on the floor while I either do the dishes or have something to eat or put the washing on. There’s so much washing.’
‘The washing is always there,’ Rachael agreed. ‘What then? Does he let you leave him?’
‘Most of the times he screams and screams, so much that it scares me if I don’t pick him up. I check his nappy again, I see if he has wind but he just doesn’t settle.’
Rachael could see the anguish in Tracy’s face. ‘Go on.’
‘So I pick him up and end up doing everything one-handed. It takes me for ever to hang up the washing.’
‘Have you thought about a sling?’
‘A sling?’
‘A baby sling. You can put Bobby in the sling, which you wear around you, and then you have both hands free.’
‘A sling.’ Tracy nodded as though it were the most startling revelation she’d ever heard.
‘That only gives you a hands-free option for a while. Keep going. What happens next?’
‘It just starts all over again. The feeding, the changing, the burping, the not settling.’
Bobby was now asleep in her arms and Rachael found herself quite content to hold him for a bit longer. Besides, they needed to adjust the pram before he was put back in.
‘He cries.’
‘Does he seem to be feeding well? Getting enough food? Does he cry for more when he’s finished?’
‘No. The only time he’s quiet is when he’s drinking.’
‘So you just snatch food whenever you can.’
‘Yes. I’m tired and exhausted. I’m up most of the night with him. I’m dead on my feet.’
‘You need more sleep.’
‘How? I can’t wait until Friday when Paul comes home.’
‘I’m not suggesting you do. I know this is probably going to drive you crazy, but what about asking your mother-in-law to look after Bobby tomorrow? Just for a few hours so you can get some sleep. Is he her only grandchild?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then she obviously wants to be involved. Asking her to help in this way may actually serve two purposes. First, it will get her off your back with all her…er…shall we say rather helpful suggestions and, secondly, you get some quality time to sleep.’
‘But—’
‘Is his cot in your bedroom?’
‘No.’
‘Bring it in, at least for the next two nights.’
‘But all the books say—’
‘Let’s forget about the books for the moment. Sometimes you need to go with what works. It’s not going to be for ever—just a few nights. Your husband isn’t home so it would just be you and Bobby. Have the cot by or close to the bed so you don’t have to go far to get to him. When you feed him, try and keep him as upright as possible. Use pillows to prop you both up and once you’ve fed and burped him, give him a bit of antacid.’ Rachael named a brand and told Tracy how much to give him. ‘I’ll give you a medicine syringe so you can measure out the exact dosage. Then you just gently squeeze it into his mouth.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘Try that for the next two nights and see how he settles. You’ll need to elevate his cot mattress by putting a pillow underneath it—the same with his pram. Can you raise the back part of the pram so he’s sitting more upright rather than lying down?’
Tracy fiddled with the pram for a moment before adjusting it as Rachael had suggested.
‘When he’s upright, there’s less chance of reflux occurring. Giving him the antacid will help soothe the burning he feels, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you get more sleep tonight.’
‘Good. Do I really need to call my mother-in-law?’
Rachael smiled. ‘I’d strongly suggest it. If you can get two hours of uninterrupted sleep tomorrow as well as a good sleep tonight, you’ll be feeling like a new woman by Wednesday, which is when I want you to come and see me again.’
‘Thank you, Dr Cusack. I really mean it. You’ve made me feel as though I’m a person again.’ Tracy laughed. ‘That sounds silly.’
‘No. It sounds quite logical. I’ll walk you out.’ Rachael opened the door, still holding little Bobby in her arms. She rubbed her cheek on his head once more and gave him a kiss. ‘Thank you for letting me cuddle him.’
Helen cooed and clucked at the sleeping baby as she made another appointment for Tracy. The outside door opened and Declan walked in just as Rachael was settling Bobby into his pram.
