Midwife's Baby Bump

by Susanne Hampton

  The doctor had referred to her baby as the bundle of joy that would be arriving in six months’ time. The news had been a shock to Flick but even in her shocked state she’d never thought of her pregnancy as an issue.

  She’d expected so much more from Tristan. Not for herself but for their baby.

  When she’d decided to tell Tristan, it was to be with no blame, no demands, no tears, just the words he needed to hear. He was going to be a father and although she’d known it would come as a shock, he had a right to know. She’d prayed she would tell Tristan as calmly as her doctor had told her.

  And she had.

  But Tristan’s reaction was nothing close to how she had pictured it. Although the pregnancy was the result of one night of passion and Tristan had not spoken a single word to her since, she’d hoped he would show an interest. But he hadn’t and she realised she was nothing to him, neither was the child she was carrying.

  She’d never thought for a moment that when she’d woken in Tristan’s arms that she’d already been pregnant with his child. Barrier contraception had failed that night three months ago, it was that simple. Tristan needed to know but he didn’t need to act. And it appeared he wasn’t about to do that. Fortunately, Flick wasn’t depending on him or building her world around any particular reaction from him. She felt that he had the right to know she was carrying his child and what he did with that information was up to him, but she had expected something more than silence.

  She had agonised over the decision for two weeks, losing sleep most nights as she’d thought about what was best for both of them. She didn’t want Tristan to feel obligated. Or to make some grandiose gesture that was coming from a place of duty, not that she’d imagined he would. But she’d known she couldn’t keep the knowledge that she was carrying his child from him. A child he might want in his life or not want to ever meet. Whatever his reaction, it wouldn’t change her decision. She was having her baby.

  And clearly his lack of interest in her since that night they’d spent together went a long way in showing her what the night had meant to him—nothing more than casual sex. A nice way to end the evening but not the beginning of anything. And, despite her disappointment, she didn’t blame him. He hadn’t coerced her into sleeping with him. She’d willingly invited him into her bed and now she would pay the price.

  But her child never would. It wasn’t great timing and it would be difficult at times, but she would love her baby, she knew that already.

  Aware every minute of every day that a new life was growing inside her, Flick’s fear was hushed by the love surging through her as she rested her hands protectively across the tiny bump of her stomach. She didn’t try to hide from herself the hope that Tristan kept their time together close to his heart, just as she did. They were two people who vaguely knew each other, but when the stars had aligned it had felt right to spend the night in each other’s arms. And that was what they’d done. And the child inside her was the result.

  As she made her way to the lift, Tristan’s face, as he’d moved slowly to kiss her the very first time, came rushing into her memory. His freshly shaven jaw a few hours later had had a dark shadow of stubble as he’d lain holding her next to him. Her heart ached with the knowledge it had all been so insincere. She had read too much into it. Whenever they’d seen each other in the hospital corridor since, Tristan had been so distant and cold, as if he didn’t want to remind himself of what they’d shared that night. Pretending it had never happened. Flick had been crushed but she didn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all to herself. She was just another one-night stand.

  She hadn’t shared the ending to that night with anyone. Sophia hadn’t pried. And Megan had no clue. Both of them had assumed it had ended at the door after an innocent drive home. Flick hadn’t lied to either of them, she’d just chosen not to elaborate. Their night of lovemaking she’d planned on being her secret for ever. A secret she shared with only Tristan. But now that would be impossible. She would have to let them both know soon. Megan was her sister and about to become an aunty. And Sophia, she hoped, would be her midwife so she had to know.

  She was a big girl and she’d known what to expect when she’d taken him home that night, she reminded herself. He’d made no promises and she told herself that she was liberated enough to accept a one-night stand had happened, albeit her first and quite definitely her last. Although she didn’t regret it happening, she wished she didn’t still remember how wonderful it had been. She wished that there wasn’t a tug at her heart every time she heard his name paged or saw him fleetingly in the corridor. She wished she could numb her emotions but, try as she may, she hadn’t up until now. But his reaction had changed that. He was once again back to his preoccupied professional self. Nothing like the man who’d swept her around the dance floor and spent one night in her bed.

  That man had only apparently existed for one night. Dropping her gaze to her stomach, she vowed that she would give her baby a happy life. Without Dr Tristan Hamilton.

  With the shock announcement of Flick’s pregnancy still taking front row in his mind after Oliver left his office, Tristan needed to push through and focus on his patients and then sort out his personal life.

  He wished he could feel elated by the news. If he had been looking for a mother for his child, Flick would no doubt have been a wonderful choice. More time getting to know each other before embarking on parenthood would have been preferable but he’d never planned on children so her suitability as a mother hadn’t been an issue.

  The question hanging over him had nothing to with Flick. It was about his suitability to be a father.

  When he arrived in NCIU and saw Mr and Mrs Roberts, with worry visibly and naturally consuming their every moment as they sat beside their newborn son’s incubator, Tristan couldn’t feel anything but anxious. It suddenly became personal and hit home for him. He knew full well that he and Flick could be in that same situation in six months. They could be facing the news that their baby had a potentially life-threatening condition. And just like Tristan had throughout his early life, the child could face years of corrective surgery and uncertainty. And if early surgical interventions were not successful then he or she too would need a heart transplant.

  Tristan couldn’t change what had happened. Flick was pregnant. They’d slept together three months ago and obviously the precautions had failed. This wasn’t just a scare. Flick would know it to be a fact, he knew she would never have come to him if she didn’t know it was accurate. And there was no point in wishing things to be different or looking back. He couldn’t undo the night they’d shared any more than he could predict the health of his child’s heart. And despite the potentially tragic outcome, Tristan wouldn’t take back that night. Just the result.

  The night would be etched in his heart for ever.

  Although he knew his own feelings about what they’d shared, he had no idea about Flick’s feelings at that moment. Had she informed him of the baby out of a sense of duty? Or was there more?

  There were so many questions and doubts and unknowns. Their child’s entire future was unknown. But he was determined not to burden Flick with the worst-case scenario right now. He’d seen how it had scarred his parents and he never wanted to see Flick suffer the way they had if it wasn’t necessary. Carrying the baby for weeks, not knowing if the child was afflicted, was unnecessary and cruel and a direction that Tristan was determined to avoid until he saw the scans. If the baby had the issue they would deal with it then; if not, he would be the only one to have carried that worry.

  If he sat and thought it through he could send himself mad. He wished with every fibre of his being that their child was healthy and had a normal childhood, nothing like the one he’d spent wrapped in cotton wool and fearing boredom would send him crazy. He’d just wanted to kick a goal, fall down on a wet, muddy football field or crash a go-kart, but he’d had to spend his time reading, watching movies, and the only racing he did was slot cars on a circuit set up
on his bedroom floor.

  Tristan pulled himself back to the present. He had to focus on what he could do, and his next step would be to find a legitimate reason to visit MMU later in the day and ask if Flick would be willing to talk things through privately.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Roberts, I’m Dr Hamilton, a neonatal cardiothoracic surgeon here at the Victoria, and with me today is Jon Clarke, a third-year medical student with an interest in neonatal cardiology.’

  His greeting was polite but brief as he immediately turned his attention to his tiny patient, now covered in small sticky pads and cuffs attached to a sea of cords leading to monitors recording his heart and respiratory rate, blood pressure and temperature. He was fast asleep on a blue and yellow spotted sheet, completely unaware of what would be happening in the next few days. Noting the child’s name, Callum, which hadn’t been decided at the time of the procedure, Tristan checked the medical records, and was happy with the observations that had been recorded since the procedure.

  ‘As you know, I performed a non-surgical procedure on Callum earlier today. The paediatric resident explained the procedure before you signed the consent, Mr Roberts, but you both still may not have a complete understanding of the reason behind the urgency of this morning’s procedure, so I’m happy to answer any questions you may have in a few minutes. It’s important that you’re both informed about everything regarding your son’s treatment.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Hamilton. We really appreciate you taking the time.’

  Tristan continued checking Callum’s vital signs and spoke briefly with the NICU nurse. Within a few minutes he felt satisfied the procedure had been successful and directed the parents to a small private sitting room about twenty feet away. Callum’s mother was only a few hours post-partum, dressed in a hospital gown and confined to the wheelchair her husband pushed into the small room. Tristan asked Jon to close the door behind them before he sat down with his hands clasped in his lap.

  ‘As you are aware, Mr and Mrs Roberts, Callum’s condition at birth was potentially life-threatening due to low oxygen levels throughout his body. The procedure I performed allows more of the oxygen-rich blood to circulate. The procedure is, however, only a temporary measure meant to help Callum survive until further corrective surgery can be done. Everything went as well as can be expected.’

  Both parents nodded in silence, allowing Tristan to continue.

  ‘Dr Hopkins explained to you that Callum has transposition of the great arteries. You will hear the term TGA used by the medical team and myself. Quite simply, it means that the arteries to the lungs and the body come off of the wrong part of the heart.’

  ‘Can you operate here or do we have to travel to Sydney for the specialist there to do it?’ David Roberts finally asked, his voice pitchy with emotion as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder and held her tightly.

  ‘I can definitely operate on Callum. There’s no need to travel to Sydney, neither would I advise it. I’ve been in contact with Dr Hopkins and he is more than happy for us to take over Callum’s care in the immediate future. We will be following the same treatment plan Dr Hopkins discussed with you after the twenty-week scan identified your son’s condition. In the next two days I propose an arterial switch operation that would reverse the condition and send the blue blood to the lungs and the red blood out to the body, as it would in a normal heart.’

  ‘I don’t recall everything he discussed with us. It was such a shock. A lot of it’s a blur,’ David offered as a response. ‘Is it a simple operation?’

  ‘The arterial switch is not in itself complex,’ Tristan began tentatively as he reached for a notepad and, pulling the pen from his shirt pocket, began drawing a diagram of the heart. ‘It’s a relatively straightforward procedure but what is more technically challenging is that we also have to move the coronial arteries at the same time.’ He pointed to the narrow arteries on the drawing. ‘These tiny arteries are about two millimetres in diameter and they supply the blood to the heart. They need to be removed, rotated and reattached during the operation.’

  Callum’s mother had held her emotions in check but with this news she broke down and wept in her husband’s arms.

  ‘I realise this is stressful for you both and the rest of your family, but I also want to add that Callum is an otherwise healthy baby boy, a good weight and, while the risk is not negligible with an operation of this nature, survival rates have improved dramatically.’

  ‘I … just want to hold my little boy.’ Jane Roberts stumbled a little over her words as she mopped her tears with a tissue.

  Tristan reached for her hand. ‘And you will. Although this is overwhelming for you both, it is routine for my surgical team. Callum is in good hands.’

  ‘When will you operate?’ David asked.

  ‘I checked the Theatre schedule prior to meeting with you, as the arterial switch is around a five-hour operation, but it’s urgent and takes priority,’ he told them, still maintaining eye contact and a reassuring tone. ‘So I’ve scheduled Callum’s operation for the day after tomorrow.’

  They looked at each other for a moment, relieved that it would all be over so quickly but nervous that they had so little time to prepare emotionally. Their little boy would be having open heart surgery in forty-eight hours’ time.

  ‘Will I take him home with me when I leave?’

  ‘No,’ Tristan began, shaking his head. ‘Even though you had a Caesarean delivery and will be staying in the ward for a few days, Callum will be in hospital for at least two weeks. You can visit any time. There’s no restriction on parents visiting. Right now, though, I would advise you to get some rest, Mrs Roberts. You have undergone major surgery yourself and you need to recover. Callum will be monitored around the clock and you can come back down with one of the nurses as soon as you feel up to it.’

  Tristan noticed a nurse at the door of the consulting room with a clipboard in hand. He told Callum’s parents he would be in touch regarding the exact time of surgery and not to hesitate to call him with any questions. Then he left them alone in the room.

  ‘This was left for you at Reception about ten minutes ago,’ the nurse said, giving him an envelope with his name handwritten across it.

  Tristan thanked her and walked away and opened it in private.

  Inside he found a copy of the appointment card for Flick’s twelve-week scan in two days’ time. There was a note attached telling him that she had intended to give it to him in his office and that there was no obligation to attend. Again it was just a courtesy to let him know she was proceeding with the pregnancy in case there was any doubt in his mind.

  Tristan folded up the note, strangely pleased with the knowledge that she was proceeding. There was an almighty weight on his chest and adrenalin coursing through his veins but he was glad of her decision. He knew that it would not be easy but he didn’t want his child’s life to end without a fight. Even if it was a fight that Flick knew nothing about.

  He checked the time of the scan and knew that he now had Callum Roberts’s surgery scheduled that day. He wasn’t sure he could make both or if Flick really even wanted him at the appointment. Perhaps it was a statement rather than an invitation, he mused as he tucked the note and card back into the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of his white consulting coat.

  But if he could, he would be there, despite the fact the scan might confirm his greatest fear. Just being the father may have already sealed the fate of their unborn child.

  CHAPTER THREE

  FLICK TRIED TO mask from Sophia that she had been crying when she returned from her break. She was well aware that her moods were a little erratic and tears often seemed close to the surface but she hoped somehow that Sophia hadn’t noticed. Although she’d sensed Sophia had been able to tell there had been a lot on her mind when they’d been assisting Jane Roberts to prepare for her emergency delivery earlier in the day.

  Flick was always focused and attentive but that morning she had
been neither and she felt certain Sophia had noticed. Nerves knotted in her stomach when Sophia called her over.

  ‘Flick, can I see you for a moment?’

  She knew that her sadness must show on her face. How could it not? Telling Tristan had been worse than she’d imagined. But she had to keep her emotions in check, make plans and think about the baby’s needs now. And make sure her situation didn’t affect her clinical placement. She loved working with Sophia and all of the other midwives and would do her best to ensure nothing upset that. ‘Sure,’ she replied, following her line manager into a small office in MMU.

  Sophia closed the door and took a seat, asking Flick to do the same.

  ‘Flick, you know I think you are a wonderful midwife and your clinical placement has been beyond reproach, but lately I’ve noticed you seem distracted or worried. Is something wrong? Are you having second thoughts about being here or is there a problem at home?’

  ‘No, I love my work,’ Flick replied. ‘I’ve just had a personal issue on my mind, and I apologise if I’ve been distracted, but I’ll be fine. I’ve sorted it out in my mind so I can focus again on what’s important, I promise.’

  Sophia looked at Flick and what she was saying did not match the obvious distress she was attempting to mask.

  ‘I don’t think you’re fine at all. It isn’t just today, Flick. You’ve been distracted for about two weeks now and I know you thought you had a tummy bug that was making you feel lethargic but you haven’t been right for a while now, and I’m worried.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine, and I promise things will get better.’

  Sophia was far from convinced. ‘I want you to see a doctor. You need to run some bloods and get to the bottom of it. Flick …’ Sophia hesitated before continuing. ‘I don’t want to put my foot in it a second time, but if I didn’t know better I’d think you were pregnant.’