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I drop my gaze back down to the monitor and start tracking the baby’s heart rate. My lips pull into a tight line, and I glance at Autumn, knowing that she can see exactly what I’m seeing. “What is it?” Ashleigh asks, looking between us both.
My hand comes down on Ashleigh’s shin and I give her the most encouraging smile I can come up with. “I’m sorry, Ashleigh. I know you’re having a really hard day, but it’s not over yet. Your baby is going into distress. Her heart rate is far too high and we need to get her out as soon as we possibly can.”
“What? No,” she panics. “It’s too soon. I’m only eight months.”
“I know,” I tell her. “You’re at a safe point in your pregnancy to deliver this baby now, and if we do this tonight, she’s going to have a far greater chance of survival. You did the right thing coming here tonight. I don’t know what might have happened if you had waited.”
Her eyes go wide. “Is it really that bad?”
“Yes,” I tell her, always choosing to be brutally honest than to sugarcoat bad news. “The stress today has brought on wasn’t good for her. We need to get you prepped for an emergency cesarean. You’re going to meet your daughter tonight.”
Another tear rolls down Ashleigh’s cheek as the fear pulses through her eyes. Autumn squeezes her hand. “You’re going to be alright,” she tells her. “You both are. You have the best doctor in the state and I’m going to be standing right by your side the whole time.”
“You will?” she questions, glancing up at Autumn.
“I promise.”
The two share a small smile, and as Ashleigh glances back at me with a new determination, she nods. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Let’s do this.”
Relief settles through me and I don’t waste a single second. I look up at Autumn. “Alright, go and call ahead. Make sure the room is ready for us with a team and an anesthetist ready to go. Tell them we’ll be there in the next two minutes.”
“Got it,” she says, hurrying to the door.
I quickly clean her up after the ultrasound and go through the few things she needs to know about her cesarean before grabbing her a gown and showing her to the bathroom. I stand outside the door as she dresses, wanting her to feel safe and protected, and as she comes out, I help her back to her bed.
Within the space of two minutes, I’m pushing Ashleigh through the door where Autumn instantly falls into her side. I break off into a separate room to scrub in, and within moments, the anesthetist is explaining exactly what he needs to do.
When I walk back into the OR I find Ashleigh sitting up, clutching Autumn’s hand. “Do you have any questions?” I ask as the anesthetist feels around her spine and prepares for her spinal block.
Ashleigh glances up with wide, panicked eyes. “Yeah, how long is this whole thing supposed to take?”
“Usually about forty minutes,” I tell her. “However, every case is always different, so let’s aim for as quickly as physically possible.”
Ashleigh nods, and within seconds, she’s laying back on her bed with her exposed stomach, putting her life into my hands. Autumn stands by her bedside, calmly explaining the process and making sure that Ashleigh has someone to lean on, sticking to her promise of being right by her side the whole time.
A few minutes pass, and then finally, the spinal block is doing its thing and I can focus on saving this baby girl’s life and hopefully getting them both the help they need to keep clear of Ashleigh’s abusive husband.
CHAPTER 22
THORNE
My scalpel slices through the delicate skin of Ashleigh’s lower abdomen, and I flick my gaze up over the partition to check on her. She’s clutching Autumn’s hand as though it’s her only lifeline, but seeing as though she’s not screaming in pain, I’d dare say the spinal block is doing exactly what it needs to be doing.
I work quickly, desperate to get this baby girl out as my intern watches closely over my shoulder, hovering far too closely and getting on my nerves. There are times when I don’t mind his insistent hovering, and then there are times like this where I need space to ensure everything goes smoothly.
Autumn’s voice is the only sound heard throughout the OR, apart from the rapid beating of both the baby and Ashleigh’s hearts on the monitors. The rapid thump, thump, thump, keeps me moving while Autumn’s explanations of the process to Ashleigh keeps me calm.
I get through the top layer of skin and move onto the connective tissue, making precise and practiced incisions when a howling alarm tears through the room. My scalpel pauses mid-air as every eye in the room snaps up, every one of them looking at me for guidance.
