The Doctor's Outback Baby

by Carol Marinelli

  Clara nodded. Hall’s explanations were kept simple and she was grateful, her mind not really up to lengthy explanations. And though she knew all the answers, though she’d been through the scenario before, now she was at the receiving end all her training seemed to have flown out of the window. ‘What if I deliver on the way, Hall? Twenty-eight weeks is just too early.’

  ‘We’ve seen smaller, though, haven’t we, Clara?’ Pulling her top back down, he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘If you do deliver then we’ve got everything on the plane, but I reckon this little tacker’s going to stay put at least till we get to Adelaide, for what it’s worth.’

  Oh, it was worth so much.

  Hall’s quiet words of encouragement were everything she needed right now.

  Clara managed a brave smile as he stood up, gave the signal to get things moving, until finally, with tubes coming out everywhere, machines strapped to most of her body, she knew it was time to go.

  ‘I’m going with her.’ Shelly’s voice was firm, but Clara heard the emotion behind it.

  ‘Shelly, I’ll be fine,’ Clara said quickly, but Shelly was resolute.

  ‘You’re not facing this on your own.’ Her voice trembled slightly as she took Clara’s hand. ‘Ross can take a couple of days off and watch the children. You’re not going to Adelaide without someone beside you.’

  ‘Do you want to have that word with Clara, Ross?’ Hall’s words didn’t make sense and both Shelly and Clara looked up in surprise as Ross gave a small tentative nod.

  ‘Two minutes,’ Hall said to Ross, and then smiled down at his patient. ‘I’ll just make sure the plane’s ready.’

  Clara knew the plane was ready, knew he was just being polite, but as she turned her inquisitive eyes to Ross, her curiosity turned to nervousness as he asked Shelly to wait outside.

  ‘What is it, Ross?’ she ventured when they were finally alone. ‘What’s happened? Is it the baby?’

  ‘The baby’s fine.’ Ross was quick to reassure her. ‘For the moment anyway. The contractions are slowing down now. It’s not the baby I need to talk to you about.’

  ‘Then what?’ She’d never seen Ross so lost for words and his evasiveness scared her. ‘Come on, Ross, tell me.’

  ‘Clara, you know you have to stay calm—you know that, don’t you?’ he checked as she nodded, bewildered. ‘I really didn’t want to tell you now, but I don’t think I have a choice. I’ve discussed it with Hall—’

  ‘You’re scaring me, Ross,’ Clara broke in.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Taking her hands, he looked her straight in the eye. ‘Timothy rang this morning.’ When Clara didn’t respond he carried on gently, ‘He didn’t say much. He’d tried to phone you at home, and then he rang the clinic. When I said you were out on a visit he said he’d ring back tonight.’

  ‘Has he got my letter?’

  Ross gave a small shrug. ‘I don’t think so, Clara. Like I said, he didn’t say much, but my take on it was that he just missed you, that he wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’ Clara asked, her eyes filling up. ‘About the baby, I mean? I promise I won’t be cross. In some ways I hope you have…’

  ‘I didn’t tell him,’ Ross said slowly. ‘I didn’t know then there was a problem, but even if he rings now, unless you want me to tell him I still can’t. Do you understand that?’

  She nodded, and as the news sank in so the questions started. ‘Is he doing his diving course?’

  Ross shook his head.

  ‘He’s moved back to England, then?’

  She sensed his hesitancy, and she moved to reassure him. ‘You can tell me, Ross, I’ve prepared myself for it.’

  Oh, no, she hadn’t. As Ross looked up, as his hands tightened around hers, as he started to speak, she finally understood his nervousness, why he had begged her to stay calm.

  ‘Timothy’s in Adelaide,’ he said slowly, and Clara’s eyes widened, the air catching in her throat as she struggled to take a deep breath, to force herself to stay calm as her handle on the world jolted into overdrive. ‘He’s doing a rotation at the hospital you’re going to, Clara. Do you see now why I had to tell you?’

  She didn’t answer, just lay back on the hard stretcher as the news sank in, the next contraction barely meriting a comment. Ross’s words had been like a hand grenade thrown into her brain, scrambling everything, blowing every preconceived idea she’d had about how to tell Timothy, the impact of his words ricocheting through every cell in her body. But as the shock abated, as reality filtered back in, far from desolation, far from the cold fingers of fear that had gripped as her labour had taken hold, Clara was left with a curious sense of calm, a small sense that all was right.

  In a couple of hours or so she would see Timothy again.

  ‘Do you want me to ring the hospital?’ Ross broke into the smoldering aftermath that used to be her brain, concern etched on every feature as he awaited her reaction. ‘I can tell him, if that’s what you want. It might give him some time to get his head around the idea before you arrive.’

  Clara thought for a moment before answering. Under any other circumstances she would have told him herself, his reaction to the news something she wanted—no, needed—to witness. But there was the baby to think of, a baby too small for this world, and emotional confrontations had to be avoided at all costs.

  ‘Tell him I’m sorry,’ Clara said softly. ‘Tell him that I never wanted him to find out like this.’

  ‘Of course.’ As Hall tapped softly at the door Ross stood up. ‘I had to tell Hall. I couldn’t really just jump in and tell you without him being aware of what was going on, and we all know how nosy Timothy is. A chopper landing is just the sort of thing that would fuel his curiosity. I didn’t fancy him wandering in for a sticky beak, only to see you lying on the stretcher. But apart from that, it’s between you and I.’

  ‘You can tell Shelly.’ Clara smiled, noting the relieved look that washed over his face. ‘I know she’d make your life hell otherwise.’

  Ross smiled. ‘She and Eileen probably have her stethoscope to the wall as we speak. I’m only kidding. Shelly would never—’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’re taking this very well,’ Ross murmured, as Hall made his presence known again. ‘If you want Shelly to come with you, the offer’s there.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ Clara smiled as the stretcher moved down the hallway, her hand wrapped around her stomach. ‘I mean we’ll be fine.’

  ‘One out, two in,’ Eileen said tearfully as they carefully lifted the stretcher down the front steps. ‘Warn the hospital to expect lots of calls!’

  Clara didn’t remember much about the flight, just lay back and tried to stay calm, to focus on the tiny life within in her and not be too greedy with her prayers.

  Twelve more weeks would be pushing it, Clara admitted as she listened to the blips on the monitor beside her. She’d even settle for twelve more days, knowing every day in utero was the best chance her baby had.

  Twelve hours even…

  ‘Another one?’ Hall’s hand was back on her stomach, his other one reaching for Clara’s as she willed the contraction to end, willed the pain to subside. But it seemed to go on for ever and she gripped Hall’s hand harder, moaning in terror as she felt her own toes curl now, knew however much she didn’t want to admit it that things were starting to move.

  ‘My back hurts,’ she sobbed, retching into a bowl the nurse quickly held out as the activity on the plane started to lift, the anaesthetist pulling up drugs, the nurse calmly opening packs. But her nonchalance didn’t fool Clara for a minute.

  ‘How long till we get there, Hall?’

  ‘Another fifteen minutes or so, but if we don’t make it, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got everything we need here, Clara.’ His words didn’t comfort her and she shook her head, her eyes imploring him to stop, to listen and to act.

  ‘I have to get there,’ she sobbed, doubling over as another contraction engulfed her, the s
traps of the stretcher biting into her legs as she sought some comfort, desperate to kneel up, to rock back on her heels, to give in to her body and let the baby come. But still she fought it, willing herself to stay calm, breathing though the pain till it blissfully subsided. ‘I have to get to Adelaide, Hall.’ He gave a tight nod, pushing drugs through the IV line as the nurse slipped an oxygen mask over her face.

  ‘We’re doing everything we can, Clara.’ He was fiddling with the IV pump as the anaesthetist passed him another spring. ‘Just try and relax, give the medication a chance to work…’

  She did as she was told, lying back on the pillow, listening to the pilot radioing through her progress, imagining the scene at the other end, the nurses and doctors waiting, the delivery ward being set up. And Timothy confused and bewildered, the news still sinking in, racing out to the landing strip as the efficient staff waited for the landing. Imagining how hard it must be for him to make sense of it all, trying to tell the waiting crowd that this was his child they were expecting…

  It didn’t look like Timothy.

  As the stretcher was moved swiftly from the plane she scanned the faces, Timothy’s the only one that mattered now, and as their eyes locked she knew his pain surely equalled hers.

  Lines she had never seen before seemed to be grooved into his face. Those smiling eyes were alien now, hurt, bewildered and utterly terrified as he ran along beside the stretcher, unfamiliar in a suit and tie, his white coat flapping behind him as he raced alongside her, squeezing himself into the lift and impatiently turning off his pager, which was bleeping noisily, adding to the fraught confusion that surrounded her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she started, pulling off the oxygen mask as the lift doors closed, but he shook his head, replacing the mask with shaking hands, his voice gruff and thick with emotion.

  ‘Keep it on,’ he said. ‘The baby needs it.’ His eyes dragged to the portable monitors that surrounded her. ‘You need it, too.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Not now, Clara,’ he said firmly. ‘We’ll talk later.’

  And with that she had to make do.

  Hall stayed, relaying his treatment to the attending doctors and midwives as they changed over the machines to the delivery ward’s own. A cast of thousands seemed to be crammed into the room, separate teams for Clara and the baby, preparing the resuscitation cot and talking in the low urgent voices Clara knew only too well.

  ‘It sounded as if you were having it.’ Timothy’s voice was a croak.

  ‘When did Ross ring?’ She couldn’t look at him and it would seem Timothy was having the same problem as his eyes were fixed on the monitor, watching the baby’s heart rate and the strength of Clara’s contractions.

  ‘An hour or so ago.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘A bit more maybe. Everyone seemed pretty laid-back, but just as you were due in they radioed through that they were expecting you to deliver en route, and the whole place went crazy.’

  ‘It was the same on board.’ Clara lay back, closing her eyes as another contraction came, but it was mercifully short and the pain she’d anticipated didn’t eventuate.

  ‘I said I’d get you here.’ Hall smiled, coming over.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Clara whispered, but Hall just shook his head.

  ‘No. Thank you. It makes cleaning up and restocking so much easier,’ he said, but the humour didn’t quite cover up the emotion in his voice. ‘You’re in the right place now,’ he added softly, ‘and the drugs seem to be kicking in a bit. Hopefully this little tacker will stay put a while longer.’

  Timothy hovered as the bustle in the room carried on, the drama of an impending birth receding as Clara’s contractions died down. And finally, when every last test known had been performed, when surely her haemoglobin must now be in its boots from the amount of blood that had been taken, with wires and monitors coming from everywhere, Casey, the midwife, gave her a slow but optimistic smile.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll put the lights down and let you rest.’ She looked over at Timothy, who stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. ‘You, too,’ she added, pulling up a chair and gesturing for him to sit. ‘You could both be in for a long night—you should try and conserve a bit of energy.’

  But sleep would have to wait a while. Left alone in the semi-darkness, they listened to the regular bleeps of the monitors for what seemed like an age until finally Clara broke the strained silence.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she started again. ‘It must have been awful to find out this way.’

  ‘Leave it, Clara,’ Timothy said in a tight voice. ‘Do what the midwife said and get some rest.’

  ‘I can’t rest, though,’ she responded tearfully. ‘I can’t just lie back and close my eyes when you’re—’

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’ Timothy offered. ‘If it will make things easier, I can wait outside.’

  But Clara shook her head. The thought of him leaving her now brought no peace at all. ‘I don’t want to fight, but I also know that there’s a lot of things that need to be said, and until we at least talk I can’t rest. If we can just get it over with—’

  ‘Get it over with?’ His voice was incredulous and he struggled to control it. ‘Believe me, Clara, this won’t be over with in a matter of minutes. Don’t lie on the bed like some sort of martyr asking me for absolution, because I can’t give it now. That’s my baby you’re carrying and you let me leave without even telling me it existed.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she said quickly as he gave an unbelieving snort. ‘I honestly didn’t, not till about a month after you’d left. I thought I was having periods. Remember when I ran out of…?’ Her voice trailed off but her words seemed to have reached him and finally he sat down, his face not exactly friendly but, hell, she’d settle for any improvement right now. ‘I found out at sixteen weeks.’

  ‘Excuse my maths, Clara, but if I’m not mistaken sixteen from twenty-eight makes twelve. That’s twelve weeks you’ve had to let me know I was about to become a father. If you hadn’t come here, if it hadn’t been inevitable I’d find out, would I still be in the dark? Was this baby going to grow up not knowing I existed?’

  ‘I wrote.’

  ‘So we’re blaming the postman now?’ Sarcasm didn’t suit him and he changed tack quickly. The delivery ward was no place for a row. ‘All I ever did was love you, Clara.’

  ‘You left,’ she pointed out, and Timothy raked a shaking hand though his hair. ‘It didn’t look like love to me.’

  ‘Do you blame me?’ His voice was a raw whisper. ‘Did you expect me just to live in Kell’s shadow? Hell, a second-rate doctor I could just about have swallowed, but a second-rate lover?’

  ‘You were never second rate,’ Clara said. ‘I was scared to tell you how much you meant to me, scared of being a burden.’

  Confused eyes met hers and Timothy stood up slowly. ‘We can’t do this now, Clara, there’s just too much hurt there. I can’t go over it all and be expected to stay calm, and neither can you. For now we just have to put it all to one side and get through this any way we can. We’ve got the baby to think of.

  ‘Our baby,’ he added softly, his hand tentatively moving to the ripe mound of her stomach. ‘Can I?’

  She nodded, watching his face as his hand met her skin, watching his eyes squeeze tightly on tears as a tiny foot or hand made its presence felt, greeting the very new father-to-be with a deft little jab. And as beautiful as the moment was, it was laced for Clara with regret, regret for all Timothy had missed out on.

  Casey popped her head around the door, smiling as she came over. ‘Hop on if you like,’ she suggested, pulling down the side of the bed as Timothy stood there awkwardly. ‘If it helps Clara to relax then it’s all in a good cause.’

  ‘Will it help?’ His eyes searched Clara’s face and she nodded slowly, moving over a touch as Timothy climbed on top of the sheet, both awkward and shy as Casey pulled up the side rail.

  ‘We don’t want you both toppling out. Read
ing the monitors, she quietly wrote down Clara’s and the baby’s obs before turning. ‘We’ll be in and out all night, but just buzz if you need anything.’

  Timothy held her, his movements awkward at first as Clara lay there, rigid and nervous and wondering if it was such a good idea, but as his hand rested on her bump, as he pulled her in just a little bit tighter, their stage fright vanished, many nights holding each other the best dress rehearsal of all.

  ‘Clara?’ She heard the anxiety in his voice as she pulled herself up, the monitors going crazy as the lights flooded on, nurses appearing from everywhere as they pulled down the side of the bed and Timothy jumped off, sleepy and dazed at first but snapping to attention in a matter of seconds.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ she gasped, her hand clutching the mask over her face, every breath an effort as her heart seemed to gallop inside her chest.

  ‘It’s OK, Clara.’ Casey’s voice was reassuring above the confusion. ‘I’ve turned up the oxygen. Just take some nice slow deep breaths—the doctor’s on his way.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ Timothy’s hand gripped hers tightly as she whispered the words, too tired to look up, too exhausted to do anything other than try and breathe.

  ‘She’s having trouble breathing.’ Casey’s words reached her from a distance and Clara realised she was addressing Timothy.

  ‘I can see that,’ Timothy responded, the anxiety clear in his voice. ‘What I want to know is what’s happening?’

  ‘It could be the magnesium sulphate. Although it can stop premature labour, it can also have some worrying side effects,’ Casey responded calmly. ‘I’ve turned it off. Clara,’ she addressed her patient, ‘your lungs are filling up with fluid—that’s why you’re having so much trouble breathing, Dr Rhodes is coming directly.’