by Amy Andrews
As her head hit his pillow, she wondered fleetingly at the wisdom of being naked in his bed. But she was going to be out of here before he got home. Besides, she was too tired to move now. And the pillow smelt so-o-o good. It smelt like man. It smelt like Campbell.
* * *
For a day that had started out as bleakly as Campbell’s, it had improved rapidly. Just the thought of Claire in his bed was enough to keep a smile permanently plastered on his face. Campbell’s behaviour was enough, without gossip from William Casey, to confirm to all and sundry at St Jude’s that he had indeed made progress with Sister West.
Campbell was sure he even saw money exchange hands on some of his rounds. It seemed his frivolity, along with the idiotic grin that he didn’t seem to be able to shift, was enough to declare him the winner. Given that the opposite was true, he knew Claire would be furious, but he was just too damned happy to care at the moment.
He tried really hard all day not to fantasise about her asleep in his bed. And not to speculate about what she was wearing, because that led to images of a naked Claire and he really couldn’t concentrate on his job. At all.
And he had to keep reminding himself that she had insisted she wasn’t going to be there when he got home. Still, at least he could lie down where she’d been and smell her scent once again. It had started to fade from his sheets.
Campbell had a morning theatre list, which he whistled his way through. It was amazing he didn’t accidentally incise something he wasn’t supposed to, given how shot his concentration was. Luckily, they were procedures he could perform with his eyes closed.
The last op was a Caesarean for transverse foetal position. This scenario was a no-brainer for Campbell. Babies lying sideways across the uterus couldn’t be born any other way. He tugged the wet and slippery baby from the safety of her mother’s womb and was pleased to hear the little girl wail heartily at the intrusion.
He held the baby up over the top of the drape so her parents could grab a quick look before a nurse whisked her off to check her over. She returned the precious package to the parents a few minutes later, wrapped up as snug as a bug in a rug. Baby Anne looked very content, Campbell thought as he prepared to close the surgical incision.
He tried to tackle some paperwork at lunchtime but instead daydreamed about Claire and subsequently got nothing much achieved.
His afternoon clinic commenced at two and was filled with the usual antenatal checks. Weight, urine, baby’s position, foetal growth and heartbeat.
He’d finished for the day and was signing his name to the last chart when Andrea popped her head in.
‘Sorry, Campbell, I’ve just had a call from Hillary Beetson.’
‘Do I know her?’ Campbell searched his memory bank unsuccessfully.
‘No. She’s one of Martin’s patients, but everyone has left for the day and you’re on call. She’s just rung to say she hasn’t felt the baby move all day. I told her to come straight up and you could squeeze her in.’ She ended with a sweet, pleading look, handing Hillary’s chart to him.
‘How many weeks?’
‘Thirty-six.’
Despite Campbell’s urge to make a quick getaway, he knew he had to see this client. ‘Let me know when she gets here,’ he sighed, thumbing through the chart.
The scenario was common enough. As the pregnancy reached its advanced stages and the foetus grew larger, there was less and less room for the baby to move. Decreased foetal movements were common in the last few weeks and usually meant nothing.
But Campbell also knew that it couldn’t be ignored. An intra-uterine death at this late stage was unlikely but it was one of the more sinister possibilities. He pushed fantasies of Claire at home in his bed to one side and focused.
Five minutes later Andrea informed him that his patient had arrived.
‘Afternoon, Hillary,’ he greeted her confidently, introducing himself.
‘Hi,’ she said. She looked anxious and Campbell pulled up a chair beside his patient, hoping to allay her fears.
‘Andrea tells me you haven’t felt the baby move today.’
‘That’s right, I only realised a little while ago I haven’t felt any movements since last night. It’s usually so active but I’ve been so busy today …’ she replied softly, obviously worried. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing usually,’ Campbell reassured her, ‘there’s not a whole lot of room for the baby to move around now, so it’s common enough to go for longer than usual without feeling the baby move.’
‘Oh. OK. That’s a relief,’ Hillary exhaled loudly.
‘We’ll just listen for the heartbeat first and then see if we can’t prod it into giving us a kick.’
Hillary got up on the examination bed and Campbell waited while Andrea had squirted some gel on Hillary’s bulging abdomen, running the Doppler through it to locate the heartbeat.
Campbell watched Andrea try several spots where the heartbeat was usually found. Nothing. Andrea stopped and palpated the abdomen, locating the baby’s head low down in the pelvis, satisfying herself that she was indeed looking in the right places. Silence still greeted her attempts to find the heartbeat.
She turned to Campbell and handed him the transducer. Her eyes said it all. She was worried. Campbell felt the first prickles of impending doom.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Hillary, the worried edge back in her voice. ‘Why can’t we hear it?’
‘They can be tricky to find sometimes,’ Campbell said, injecting into his voice a confidence he didn’t feel.
He got Andrea to try and stimulate the baby to move while he ran the transducer all over, listening for the whup, whup, whup that indicated life. She poked and prodded. Nothing.
Campbell was very concerned now. ‘Get someone from Ultrasound up here now,’ he told Andrea, his voice calm but his eyes conveying urgency. She left immediately.
‘What’s wrong?’ Hillary asked, raising herself on her elbows, tears gathering in her eyes. ‘Why can’t you find it?’
‘Sometimes the baby’s position can make it really hard. Sometimes the mother’s heartbeat can confuse things. I want to get an ultrasound. We’ll know more after that. It’s probably just the baby playing hard to get.’ He smiled, trying to reassure her. ‘Why don’t we ring your partner to come and be with you?’
‘I rang Danny already. He should be here soon.’
Danny, Andrea and Darren from Ultrasound all arrived together a couple of minutes later. Campbell explained to Danny what was happening.
‘What’s the worst-case scenario, Doc?’ asked Danny, coming right to the point.
‘Let’s just get this picture first. I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.’
Andrea switched out the lights and Darren applied more gel to Hillary’s tummy. Danny stood behind the bed, his hands on his wife’s shoulders.
The screen flickered and their baby came into view. Darren manipulated the transducer to get a look at the heart. Campbell’s worst fears were realised when no heart movement could be detected at all. He stared at the screen silently, willing the heart to move, to beat, but … nothing. The baby was dead.
Campbell felt an overwhelming, crushing sadness for this couple. He was going to have to give them news that would devastate them. Every part of him rebelled at having to be the one to do it. He ran his hands through his hair. Sometimes being a doctor really sucked.
He indicated to Andrea to turn the lights back on. ‘Page the social worker,’ he whispered to her as she passed him.
‘Hillary, Danny,’ he said, turning to them. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this but we’ve just looked at your baby’s heart and it’s not beating. I’m sorry, but your baby has died.’
Hillary’s face crumpled into a heap as she clutched at her husband’s shirt. ‘No, no, no,’ she wailed. ‘My baby, my baby.’
‘What do you mean, dead? How can that be? What happened?’ Danny demanded, his voice loud with anger and indignation.
; ‘I don’t know for sure,’ said Campbell quietly. ‘I’d like Darren to have a really good look and see if he can find the cause … if that’s OK.’
‘Do it,’ said Danny, Hillary’s sobs and cries of denial stimulating his aggression further.
Darren applied the transducer again and did a thorough ultrasound scan, looking for a reason for this tragic intra-uterine death. Hillary’s sobs echoed around the room during the procedure.
Darren stopped and pushed a few buttons. ‘There’s no blood flow through the cord,’ he said solemnly. ‘There …’ He pointed. ‘I think that’s the problem.’
‘Is that a knot in the cord?’ asked Campbell.
‘I think so—it’s kind of hard to tell. Might just be a lump but, given that there’s no flow, I’d say it’s probably a true knot. The cord is quite long, which does increase the risk.’
Darren wiped Hillary’s belly off and left the room. Andrea returned with Sharon, the social worker, and Campbell introduced her to the grieving couple.
‘Did you find anything?’ Danny asked, the angry edge to his voice dissipating as reality settled in.
‘We think that there’s a knot in the cord. We can’t be certain until after the baby is born—’
‘A knot? How can that happen?’ Danny was angry again, his voice incredulous and demanding.
Campbell didn’t take offence. The man had just had the rug pulled out from underneath him. Beneath Danny’s veneer of aggression was a grief-stricken father. Campbell would feel the same way if it had been him.
‘It’s very rare but some babies can be so active that they can swim around in the womb and tie a knot in their cord. If it pulls tight enough, it can completely deprive the baby of nutrients from the placenta and they die.’
‘I didn’t think there was enough room at this stage for that,’ said Danny.
‘At this stage there isn’t. It probably happened weeks ago, and the knot has been pulling tighter and tighter over the last few weeks as the baby grew more and there was less room to move.’
‘Oh, God! I should have come in earlier,’ sobbed Hillary. ‘If only I hadn’t been so busy … I should have been paying more attention.’ Tears streamed down her face.
‘It’s not your fault, love,’ Danny said gruffly, hugging her close, stroking her hair.
‘He’s right, Hillary. Cord knots are completely out of anyone’s control. It was a freak accident. The baby probably died some time in the night. You did say the last time you felt it move was last night?’
‘Yes, it was moving as I drifted off to sleep,’ she sniffed.
‘You weren’t to know. Coming in earlier would have made no difference.’
Hillary’s gut-wrenching sobs filled the room again and Campbell allowed them time to vent their grief. His skin puckered with goose-bumps as Hillary’s wailing displayed her utter devastation. Campbell’s heart went out to them. What did you say in this kind of a situation? He felt so helpless.
‘What happens now?’ asked Danny, wiping his tears and blowing his nose.
‘We induce the pregnancy and Hillary will give birth to the baby. We don’t have to rush into this. If you want time to think about everything, we could leave that till the morning.’
‘Oh, God.’ Hillary broke into loud sobs again.
‘I’m so sorry, I wish I could have given you better news,’ said Campbell, feeling wretched. ‘I’m going to leave you now for a while and let you speak to our social worker. I’m going to be out at the desk if you need me for anything. I’ll come and talk to you again after you’ve finished with Sharon.’
Campbell wandered to the nurses’ station and sat down. His heart was heavy with the tragedy that had just unfolded. He’d give anything to not be here right now. To not have met this couple under these dreadful circumstances.
He’d have given anything to be at home with Claire. He needed her more now than he ever had. Just to feel the comfort and solace of her arms, to forget the awfulness of the day in the magic of her lips and the secrets of her body. To be held by the woman he loved.
Campbell used this time to write a thorough report in Hillary’s notes. He documented everything from the beginning, including the ultrasound images that Darren had printed out for him. Such a waste, he thought as he signed the chart. So unfair!
‘Campbell.’ Sharon interrupted his thoughts.
‘How are they?’ Stupid question.
‘No different from before. Devastated. They wanted me to ask you if you would perform a Caesar as soon as possible. Hillary doesn’t want to be induced. She was booked for an elective Caesar with Martin anyway. I really think psychologically she wouldn’t cope with waiting until the morning. She keeps saying she can’t bear the thought of her baby being dead inside her. She wants to be able to hold it.’
‘I’ll go and talk to them. Thanks, Sharon.’
Campbell approached the room reluctantly. He didn’t want to intrude on their grief. It was tragic enough for Hillary and Danny, without being forced to share such a personal time in their lives with people who were basically strangers. Even the intimacy of their grief wasn’t sacred.
They looked up when Campbell entered. The soul-destroying cries had dissipated, replaced by expressions of utter disbelief and misery.
‘Sharon said you’d like a C-section?’
Hillary nodded, her chin wobbling. ‘She can’t go through hours of labour to give birth to a dead baby, Doc. She just can’t,’ pleaded Danny.
‘I can’t do that, Campbell,’ Hillary confirmed, tears coursing down her face.
‘I understand,’ Campbell reassured them gently. ‘Are you sure you don’t need more time? There really is no rush.’
‘I want to be able to hold my baby,’ Hillary cried. ‘I don’t want to wait. I want it to be over.’
‘I’ll arrange it immediately. I’ll see you in Theatre in about half an hour.’
Andrea rang up to the operating rooms to check the emergency theatre wasn’t in use, while Campbell made his way up there. He did so with a heavy heart. This would be no joyous event, like most Caesareans. There would be no lusty wail to bring a tear to the eye. Instead, he would have to pull out a stillborn baby. It was too sad for words.
The operation went without a hitch. Campbell felt profound sadness as he handed the lifeless baby boy to a waiting nurse. He knew they would wash the baby and dress him and have him ready to take to his parents when Hillary got out of Theatre. They would be able to hold their baby at last.
Removing the placenta was interesting as he was able to examine the cord close up. Sure enough, it was a true knot. He’s never seen one in all the years he’d been in obstetrics.
Sometimes cords had a lumpy appearance, similar to a knot on a tree-trunk, but this one was a definite knot. He untied it to prove it to himself and so he could be one hundred per cent sure when he saw his client post-op.
Campbell finally got away from the hospital around nine o’clock. He’d stopped in and spent some time with Hillary and Danny. They were lying on the bed together, facing each other, their precious baby boy between them. They were crying and stroking his little face and talking to him as they held each other, and Campbell knew there was no easy way, no quick fix for their grief. They had a hard road ahead.
When Campbell pulled into his parking space he was surprised to find Claire’s car still parked there. She was still here? He’d expected her to be long gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. After today he needed to hold her desperately.
Claire was dressing hurriedly when she heard Campbell’s key in the lock. ‘Oh, hell,’ she cursed under her breath. Why had she slept so long? Now she had no choice but to face him.
She looked at her attire, a pair of Campbell’s baggy gym shorts turned over several times at the waist and pulled down low on her hips to anchor them. A flannelette shirt, also Campbell’s, with the sleeves rolled up. Even her undies were a pair of Campbell’s cotton clingy boxers.
It was either that or get back
into her uniform. Yuck! She obviously hadn’t thought about a change of clothes in her tired rush this morning.
‘Campbell, I’m sorry, I know I’m still here,’ gushed Claire, rushing into the lounge room, her attention on buttoning up the flannelette shirt. ‘I’ll get out of your hair straight away, I promise.’
Job complete, she turned her attention to him. She stopped in her tracks. Oh, lord, she thought, he looked awful. Her awkwardness at being caught still in his apartment and in his clothes diminished instantly.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Awful day.’ He grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his floppy fringe back. He walked past her and sat on the lounge, throwing his keys onto the coffee-table.
‘How awful?’ She sat beside him, not too close, sensing his need to vent his angst.
‘I’ve just delivered a thirty-six-week stillborn baby boy. First true knot in a cord I’ve ever seen.’
‘Oh, Campbell,’ Claire gasped quietly, putting her arm around his shoulders. ‘That’s terrible.’
Claire listened while Campbell filled her in on the details. She absently rubbed his shoulder and caressed his forearm, her head pressed to his in shared sorrow.
‘Sometimes I hate my job so much. I just felt so helpless, you know? Life is so bloody unfair.’
‘I know,’ she soothed quietly. She knew it well.
Campbell pressed his fingers to his temples and supported his face in his hands. Claire stayed silent, hoping her presence was some support.
They worked in a field that had its share of tragedies. Some got to you more than others. She’d been where Campbell was. She wouldn’t desert him in his hour of need.
He raised his head and turned to look at her, giving her a small, sad smile that pulled at her heart. She smiled back, acutely aware of his maleness and his proximity. She felt the intensity of his gaze on her mouth and felt herself sway closer.