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What he wasn’t confused about was his son. Justice was an amazing child. Smart, funny, full of spunk. Ross was in awe of the boy’s thought processes and how quickly his little mind worked. Being a constant part of Justice’s life was the one certainty throughout the week’s craziness. Doing what was right for his son would be his priority and if Brielle wished he’d just disappear, that was too bad.
“Dr. Lane, we have a problem.” Cindy interrupted his thoughts. “Brielle just brought back a thirty-seven-week gestation female who is dilated to ten. The patient had been brought in because she was involved in a minor road traffic accident, but the shock must have sped up her labor. Brielle wanted me to get you now.”
“Call Delivery and see if we can get her transferred.” Ross went to the bay he’d seen Brielle go into a few minutes before while he’d been finishing up the notes on his previous patient.
“I know you want to push but try not to,” Brielle encouraged the woman, propping another pillow behind her. “Is that better?”
“I have to push,” the woman cried, sweat dripping down her brow. “I hurt so bad.”
The woman’s husband noticed Ross. “Are you the doctor? Can’t you do something? She’s hurting really bad. I think something’s wrong because she shouldn’t be hurting this bad. Is it because of the accident? It’s my fault for driving too fast; I was so scared about getting here on time.”
“We’ll take good care of you.” Ross cleaned his hands then gloved up. “I need to see how far along you are.”
The woman nodded her permission, her hands clamped tightly to the bed rail. Her husband was rubbing her arm, trying to soothe her.
“She’s at ten,” Brielle warned, glancing at the fetal monitor as she continued to talk. “The baby’s head is crowning and another contraction is about to start.”
Ross gently pulled back the covers to where he could check the woman and immediately his gaze went to Brielle’s. One more big contraction and they’d be delivering a baby.
“Labor and Delivery won’t have a bed available for about half an hour,” Cindy informed them from where she peeked her head around the curtain.
“We don’t have half an hour.” Even as Ross said the words the woman’s abdomen began to pull tightly with the contraction that Brielle had seen coming on the monitor.
The woman began whimpering and her husband reminded her to breathe.
“I need to push. I really need to push.”
“Cindy, get some towels and everything else I’m going to need.” He glanced at Brielle, who stood at the head of the bed, keeping close tabs on the woman.
“I have to push,” the woman cried. “I have to.”
“Try to make it to your next contraction before pushing.”
“I can’t.” Obviously she couldn’t because she began pushing and grunting with pain.
“Breathe, honey. Don’t forget to breathe.”
The woman’s eyes cut towards her husband and she growled something about his breathing, then she closed her eyes and cried out.
“The head’s out,” Ross told them as he cleared the baby’s airway. “Stop pushing.”
The contraction was coming to an end. The woman whimpered. Her husband moved to the end of the bed to where he could see what Ross saw. His face paled and he plopped down into the sole chair in the room.
“Put your head between your knees and breathe,” Brielle told the man from where she was still attending her patient. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
Ross glanced up just long enough to meet her eyes and grin at her comment. She started to smile back, caught herself, and glanced away, leaving him yet again feeling as if he had been the one to wrong her rather than the other way round.
She’d denied him this. Seeing his child come into the world. Getting to be there during those first few moments of Justice’s life. Being there for the first five years of his life.
“I want to push again. Please tell me I can push,” the woman begged.
Ross glanced at the monitor, watched for the right time during her contraction for her pushing to be most effective. “Now. Push.”
The woman bore down, pushing, crying, breathing in deep gasps.
Ross caught the baby as the shoulders appeared then the remainder of the body rushed out of the birth canal. He did a quick visual assessment of the crying baby. “Apgar is ten. Perfect. Congratulations. You have a beautiful baby girl.”
Ross put the baby on the woman’s stomach, clamped the umbilical cord, reached for the sterile scissors Brielle was offering him, and glanced towards the baby’s father. “Do you want to cut the cord?”
