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‘Thirty-four weeks, the paramedics said.’ The paediatrician was looking her over. ‘But she’s quite big for thirty-four weeks—do you know where mum was having her antenatal?’
‘I’m sure he didn’t have time to ask,’ Belinda said. ‘You were at a house auction, weren’t you, Ben?’
‘Actually...’ he cleared his throat a touch ‘...this is Celeste’s baby.’
‘Our Celeste!’ Belinda blinked and then looked at the admission card that the receptionist had just filled in. ‘Baby Mitchell...’
‘She lives in the same street as the auction,’ Ben half explained, ‘and she must have wandered down to watch it.’
‘Well, lucky woman...’ Belinda breathed out ‘...that you were there.’
‘She had gestational diabetes,’ Ben said, which explained the baby’s relatively big size for gestation, ‘and she had her antenatal care here,’ he added to the receptionist, and she rushed off to get the notes.
‘Does anyone know if there were any other problems?’
‘Hypertension,’ Meg said as still Ben struggled just to breathe. ‘She was signed off a couple of days ago.’
‘Her blood pressure has been up,’ Ben said, watching Belinda blink at the depth of his knowledge. ‘She looked very bloated today, and I thought she was tipping into pre-eclampsia,’ Ben added. ‘I think she was going to be admitted on Monday.’
He felt sick.
The resuscitation area was impossibly hot, and Ben felt stifled, hearing the blip, blip, blip of the monitor. Even watching the team at work was incredibly hard. Oh, he knew they knew what they were doing, knew that babies were tough, even tiny ones, only they seemed so rough with their handling of something so very, very small.
‘I’m going to go outside for a bit,’ Ben said in a strangled voice.
‘You might want to change first.’ Belinda glanced up and smiled and only then did Ben register the state he was in.
He had a quick shower and selected some theatre blues, only instead of drying and dressing he sat on the wooden bench, dripping wet, with his head in his hands, her words playing over and over. ‘What if I’d been at home, what if...?’ Scenario after possible scenario was playing out in his racing brain.
And not just for this morning.
Over and over the years he had beaten himself up with those very words—wishing he’d come home earlier, wondering about the outcome if he had. He’d been told that nothing could have been done for Jen, that even with the best of care she’d have died, or worse, that the brain haemorrhage she’d suffered would have left her a vegetable. But what about their baby? Could it have been saved if he’d been at home?
There was a myriad of conflicting emotions pelting him.
Relief, regret, resentment even, that he had been there for this child and not his own—and yet, even as resentment flickered it faded just as quickly. That tiny life he had held in his hands, he had willed and willed to live, had felt more for than a doctor should—and not just for the baby, but for her mother too.
Then he remembered his own stupidity, that he had contemplated staying with her after the traumatic birth of her baby.
Of course he should have gone with the baby!
Celeste was stable, another ambulance on the way...and yet instinct had overridden logic for a second, and all he had wanted to do was stay and comfort her.
No!
He stood up then and dried quickly, pulling on his theatre blues and making a firm decision. He wasn’t going to get involved with Celeste—whatever it took.
He just couldn’t go there again.
Wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHEN CAN I SEE HER?’ It was all she could think about.
The ambulance had arrived a couple of moments after they had taken her daughter, and she had been taken directly to Maternity. The midwives had been wonderful, keeping her up to date on her baby’s progress as Celeste was examined and an IV inserted and bloods taken.
‘Why do I need that?’
‘Your blood pressure’s still high,’ the obstetrician explained, ‘and you’ve got a lot of fluid retention. We just want to check your bloods and keep an eye on you, make sure everything’s settling down...’
The midwives helped her to wash and freshen up and get into bed and then Gloria, who Celeste had guessed was the one in charge, finally came in with some real news.
‘They’ve just transferred her from Emergency to Special Care. Once they’ve got her settled and as soon as your doctor gives you the okay, we’ll take you over to see her. Here.’ She handed her a photo. ‘One of the nurses took this...’
Oh, she was tiny, with a little pink hat and tubes and things everywhere, but she was hers... The few moments she’d had with her daughter were imprinted on her mind and Celeste already recognised her, could walk into the special care unit now and pick out her daughter, of that she was positive...
‘Now,’ Gloria said, ‘she’s doing well, and she’s on CPAP. That just means she’s needing a little help with her breathing, to fill her lungs with air, and she’s been given surfactant and medicines to help with lung immaturity...’ She went through all the treatment her daughter was receiving till Celeste understood and then she again asked a necessary question, one that Celeste had so far refused to respond to. ‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’ Celeste shook her head.
‘I’ll ring my parents soon.’
‘You shouldn’t be on your own,’ Gloria said gently. ‘Is there a friend...?’
‘Later.’ Again, Celeste shook her head.
She wanted some privacy, didn’t want to share this moment now with parents who hadn’t helped, who apart from a terse phone call and a single cheque had done nothing. And neither did she want friends who hadn’t really been there around her, or a father who didn’t want to know—all of that she would face and deal with, but right now she just wanted to process all that had taken place by herself...
‘Hey!’ The door opened and Ben’s face appeared. He was perhaps the one person she didn’t mind seeing right now—after all, he had been there!
‘Thank you.’ How paltry it sounded, but she meant it from her heart.
‘You’re very welcome.’
‘How is she?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Ben said. ‘They moved her from Emergency half an hour or so ago...’
‘Oh!’ Of course he wouldn’t know, Celeste told herself. As if he followed his patients up to the ward! Once he had handed the baby over, that would have been it for him.
‘How are you doing?’ Ben asked.
‘Not bad...’ She didn’t elaborate, didn’t want to bore him with the tests she was having. He was asking politely, that was all.
‘Well...’ he gave a tight smile ‘...I can’t stay. I’ve got the real-estate ringing every five minutes—I need to sign the contract on the house.’
‘You’d better go, then.’
‘Do you need anything?’
‘No.’
‘If you need me to drop by the unit I can fetch some stuff. Do you have a bag packed?’
‘No.’ Celeste gave a weak smile. ‘I’m not that organised. Could I ask you just to check the plugs and things?’ she asked reluctantly, when he clearly just wanted out of there. ‘I think everything is off, but I only went out for a walk.’
‘Sure.’ He handed over her handbag, which was on her locker, and waited while she gave him her keys. ‘Anything else?’
‘Nothing I can think of.’
‘Well, I’m on a night shift tonight, so I’ll drop these back to you.’ And even though he was taking her keys, even though he would be going back to her flat and checking her things, his voice, his stance was as formal as if he were just another doctor doing rounds. ‘Congratulations, Celeste.’
‘Thank you.’
* * *
It was an exhausting evening.
There was no rosy glow of motherhood for Celeste to bathe in. She told her parents the news and as expected they arrived a couple of hours later, bringing with them their endless questions and practically blaming her for the stress they were under.
‘What were you doing, walking?’ her mother Rita scolded her. ‘You were supposed to be resting.’
‘The doctor said that I was allowed a gentle walk each day.’
‘Have you rung him?’ Rita asked. ‘Whoever he is. Have you let him know he’s a father?’
‘No.’
‘Well, don’t you think you should? It is his responsibility...’
The time or place didn’t matter. The same arguments that had ensued since the day she had told them she was pregnant carried on at the hospital bedside. So much for a baby bringing peace, Celeste thought, waving goodbye to the fantasy that the arrival of their grandchild would cast the arguments aside.
