The Midwife's Miracle Baby

by Amy Andrews

  Too late for her, though. Claire shook her head, quashing the self-pity as quickly as it had appeared. He had a point. She felt a ray of hope rising inside her. Claire used her hands to swipe the tears from her face.

  Genetic advances were happening daily. In the future it would be acknowledged that this period in medicine had been second only to the era when penicillin had been discovered.

  ‘You’re right.’ She smiled a watery smile.

  ‘I know.’ He grinned and they laughed despite the circumstances.

  ‘I love you, Claire. No …’ He held up his hand and her interruption died on her lips. ‘I know it’s not reciprocated. I know there’s too much stuff happening in your life at the moment to think about loving me back, but I need you to know how I feel. I’m telling you because I want you to draw strength and determination from my love. Let it make you stronger to face the next few days and weeks and whatever they hold. Just lean on me.’

  Claire felt tears well in her eyes again at the sweetness and sincerity of his words. He was right. With his love behind her, she could face anything. She could face the future and fight for herself and her baby if she needed to.

  He was, of course, wrong about his love not being reciprocated, but Claire knew it was wise to keep her own counsel. Her life suddenly felt in limbo, dependent on the results of a blood test. Would she be a winner or loser in this cruel genetic lottery?

  * * *

  Three days later, Claire and Campbell sat in the waiting room of Dr Robyn Laidley. Claire battled waves of nausea. Was it morning sickness or extreme nervousness? Claire hadn’t been able to stomach breakfast. In fact, food had lost all its appeal over the last few days. Eating was something that was purely functional—she forced herself to do it for the sake of the baby.

  Campbell shifted in his chair and smiled at her. She looked away and he squeezed her hands, knowing she was nervous and wanting to comfort her. They felt cold and he instinctively rubbed them between his.

  The phone buzzed and the receptionist answered it, murmuring quietly.

  ‘Claire West,’ she announced in a clear voice, standing to direct the way.

  Campbell and Claire took the indicated seats in the large, modern room and waited in silence for a few minutes. The door behind the desk opened.

  ‘Claire.’ Dr Laidley greeted her as she entered. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Hello, Robyn.’

  It may have been ten years, but the geneticist who had played such a pivotal part in Claire’s life all those years ago looked exactly the same.

  She’d forgotten how tall the doctor was, almost Amazonian in stature, with softly curled red hair only now showing the signs that she had entered the fifth decade of her life. She wore fashionable glasses that made her appear even younger.

  ‘You must be Dr Deane.’ Her eyes twinkled as she extended her hand.

  ‘Campbell,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Don’t tell me hospital gossip reaches all the way down here.’

  ‘No, not really.’ She laughed. ‘I have my sources.’

  Campbell’s laughter grated on Claire’s already stretched nerves. She knew they were just being friendly but she wanted to yell at them to shut up. It didn’t seem right to laugh in this office where she’d only ever heard bad news.

  ‘I’m a little surprised to see you, Claire.’ Robyn got down to business. ‘Last time I saw you, you were adamant I wouldn’t be seeing you again.’

  ‘To be honest, I’d really rather not be here, but … my circumstances have changed.’

  ‘Oh? How so? Are you experiencing symptoms?’

  ‘I … could be …’ Actually admitting the possibility out loud to Robyn was terrifying.

  ‘I get the feeling there’s more,’ Robyn prompted.

  Claire couldn’t speak. Weren’t symptoms enough? How could she tell Robyn about the baby when she’d stood in this very office years before and insisted she’d never burden a child with her mutant genes?

  ‘Claire is pregnant,’ Campbell stated.

  ‘Ah … I see.’ Robyn removed her glasses and placed one earpiece between her teeth, sucking thoughtfully. ‘So, your symptoms have been …?’

  ‘Oh … um … some clumsiness, forgetfulness.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘A month, maybe a little longer.’ Claire’s brow creased, trying to concentrate on the facts.

  ‘And you’re how many weeks pregnant?’

  ‘Nine.’

  Claire could practically see the brain cells working behind the geneticist’s eyes. They were busily forming impressions, gathering data and analysing it.

  ‘So these might not be symptoms at all, at least not of the disease?’

  ‘I suppose …’ said Claire, sounding unconvinced.

  ‘It could just be the pregnancy. You both must know plenty of women who complain of an appalling memory when they’re expecting. That hormonal haze is a killer.’

  ‘Very common,’ Campbell agreed.

  ‘So. You want to be tested.’

  ‘No.’

  Claire?’ Confusion furrowed Robyn’s brow.

  ‘I’m here to have the test, yes. But do I want to take it? No. Not one iota.’

  Robyn peered over her glasses at the two of them. Campbell felt her shrewd gaze weighing him up and wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking what a sorry pair they were? Why two people, supposedly in a relationship and about to have a child, looked so damned miserable?

  ‘Campbell wants you to take the test,’ she stated.

  Neither of them spoke, and Campbell felt his misery intensify. Great. Now Robyn was going to think him some kind of ogre.

  ‘You do know, Campbell, that the implications of this test are potentially quite awful for Claire? She needs to be emotionally prepared as much as possible before she consents to this.’

  ‘Robyn.’ Campbell half sighed, half groaned. ‘I’m well aware of that. And, believe me, if this was just about her and me, I wouldn’t be pushing. Good Lord,’ he said, raking his hand through his hair, pushing his floppy fringe away, ‘I don’t care about the bloody test! I love Claire, disease or no disease.’ Frustration welled inside him and added a husky quality to his voice. ‘But there’s another person involved now—my child.’

  Robyn was quiet again, tapping her glasses against her pursed lips. The silence stretched between them. ‘Why don’t I start right from the beginning? We’ll get a family history from both of you and I can work out a pedigree, and from there we can assess the risks to your baby.’

  ‘That’s kind of pointless, isn’t it, Robyn?’ Claire stated quietly. ‘I mean, if I have the gene then my baby has a fifty per cent chance of inheriting it, too. That’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Robyn admitted, ‘but now we can do special tests and actually find out the baby’s status. You’d be much better equipped with that kind of information to make decisions. There have been some interesting advances in this area in the past decade.’

  ‘Can they cure it yet?’

  ‘No.’

  Well, that’s the only advance that matters to me.’

  ‘Maybe some more counselling will prepare you better should you carry the gene.’

  ‘Can you ever really be prepared for that?’

  Robyn was savvy enough to know a rhetorical question when it came her way. She stayed silent.

  ‘Frankly,’ Claire sighed, ‘I think it’ll be a relief. As much as I’ve tried to ignore it, deny it—it’s there. It’s always there. I’ve lived my life refusing to let this disease define me, but I think it’s time to stop driving myself crazy with what-ifs. And I need to know for the baby’s sake. Yes, Campbell really wants me to take the test. But I need to know, too. I need to be prepared.’

  ‘Yes,’ Robyn said after a short while, ‘I think you’re right. Very sensible. I’ll write out the lab form.’

  Claire watched as Robyn scribbled on a piece of paper. She suddenly felt better than she had in weeks. She felt
like she was taking control of her life again. OK, the result was in the lap of the gods, but as she squeezed the hand of the man beside her she knew his love would help her through.

  ‘Now, some things have changed since I last saw you. As a consequence of the Huntington gene being isolated in 1993, we can now do direct gene testing.’

  ‘I’ve been reading up on this. You look for a repeat in the DNA sequence, right?’ said Campbell.

  ‘Yes, we identify the fourth chromosome and look for a series of repeated units of information known as CAG repeats. We all have these, but in the general population you find less than twenty-nine CAG repeats. In affected individuals the CAG repeats number between forty and fifty-five, sometimes higher.’

  ‘What if you have more than twenty-nine but less than forty?’ asked Claire.

  ‘Well, that falls into a grey area. I can tell you that people with twenty-nine to thirty-five CAG repeats have never been documented with the disease.’

  ‘So,’ said Claire, wanting to clarify the technical information, ‘it all depends on how many of these CAG repeats I have. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘How long until the test results come back?’ she asked.

  ‘Two weeks. We’ll make an appointment for you in a fortnight and we can discuss the results.’

  ‘Can’t you just ring me with them?’

  ‘No. If they come back with elevated CAG repeats, I want to be able to tell you face to face. It’s not the kind of information I want to give you over the phone.’

  ‘I don’t think I can wait two weeks,’ Claire said.

  ‘That’s understandable,’ Robyn agreed. ‘But that’s the way it is. Look … I know it’s easy for me to say, but try and use these next two weeks thinking positively. And you need to take better care of yourself, Claire. I’m sorry to say this but you look like hell.’

  * * *

  Robyn was right, Claire decided, assessing her features critically in the mirror above the handbasin in the public toilets on the way to the laboratory. She smiled at herself and winced at how wan she looked. She did look like hell!

  Campbell accompanied her to the lab for her blood test. Claire thought he was probably escorting her to prevent her from bolting than for any other reason, but she was grateful for his presence anyway. Whatever his motive.

  As the needle pierced her skin Claire felt her doubts and fears return. What if she had the gene? How would she cope with the awful knowledge that she had a terminal degenerative illness?

  Campbell saw the fear in her eyes and tried to imagine how terrible it must be confronting the reality of Huntington’s. He couldn’t. It must be too awful for words. He loved her more at this moment than he ever had, his heart swelling with pride. This was extreme bravery. He squeezed her hand and she clutched his harder.

  ‘You don’t have it,’ he said, looking into her panicky eyes.

  ‘How do you know?’ she whispered, wanting to believe him, wishing she possessed his assuredness.

  ‘I just do.’

  ‘I wish I could be so sure.’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘Positive. We have to be positive.’

  Claire nodded, not trusting her voice as she held the cotton ball over the puncture site in the crook of her arm. The nurse fixed it with surgical tape.

  Campbell drove Claire home, reciting his positive-thinking mantra while she tried to ignore her dread and the motion of the car and concentrate on not throwing up.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said as he turned off the engine, ‘Robyn has a point about looking after yourself. You do look … Well, you’ve looked better.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ she said, feeling less queasy now the car was stationary.

  ‘Maybe you should take the next couple weeks off work. Eat, sleep and pamper yourself a bit. Come and stay with me. I’ll treat you like a queen.’

  It sounded like bliss. A fortnight being cocooned in his love and attention. But she couldn’t allow such intimacy yet. She didn’t trust herself not to blurt out her feelings, and she was determined to keep them secret at all costs. She needed him to keep thinking she didn’t love him because once she told him, there would be no going back.

  ‘I appreciate your concern.’ She smiled gratefully. ‘But I’ll go mad if I’m not occupied. I really need work to keep my mind off the test. I promise I’ll take care of myself … really. And there’s Mum to consider …’

  ‘All right, then. I don’t agree with you but I understand.’

  He smiled at her and ran his index finger down her cheek. Silence filled the car as their gazes locked. He placed his hand on her flat stomach. Claire felt her insides contract followed by a flare of sexual desire. It had been a while since they had been intimate. The sudden need to feel him deep inside her shook her to the core.

  ‘Promise me you’ll look after yourself and my baby,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I promise,’ she said, and crossed her heart.

  * * *

  Campbell found the next two weeks interminable. They dragged by, and he could only imagine how much worse it must be for Claire. He ran into her quite a lot at work, and was cheered by how much better she was looking.

  No one could accuse her of having that glow that so many pregnant women had but she looked healthy. She was laughing more and she seemed to be eating almost every time he saw her.

  Campbell was saddened that he was denied access to her changing body. He desperately wanted to see the differences in her shape as his baby grew inside her. It wasn’t anything sexual, more primal. This was his baby and he wanted to be there to see her stomach blossom and her breasts become fuller and feel the first stirring of foetal movement. Staying away was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  He refused to think about the results in any other than a positive way. He couldn’t explain why he felt so certain, he just did. And the times his thoughts did wander down the negative track, he knew it wouldn’t matter to him. You love for better or worse, right? In sickness and in health?

  All he knew was that he wanted to be with her and their baby. The test results would decide his fate, too. They both had a lot riding on them.

  * * *

  It was Friday. The appointment with Robyn Laidley was on Monday. Claire, who had managed quite well to keep herself busy this last fortnight, just couldn’t distract her mind from the imminent results.

  She took a phone call from Brian Craven, updating her on baby Charlotte’s progress. She’d had the breathing tube removed yesterday and had done well overnight. Charlotte had really turned the corner. Claire decided to go up and see her. At least it would be a distraction—a happy one at that.

  Campbell was there when she arrived, holding the baby and blowing raspberries on her tiny fingers. Claire instinctively cradled her still flat stomach. He would be a terrific father.

  ‘Claire,’ said Lex. ‘Come and hold our precious girl.’

  Claire joined the circle, acutely aware of Campbell’s intimate stare. She held out her arms for Campbell to place Charlotte in them. Their gazes locked, a heat rising between them. Claire moistened her dry lips and watched Campbell’s eyes dilate with desire.

  ‘Hasn’t she grown?’ Lex chatted away obliviously.

  Claire had trouble focusing her attention on the baby. Seeing Campbell reminded her of the desperation she felt about her situation. Worse than that, it seemed to be pushing them together. She should be discouraging this sudden heat between them, but Monday loomed large and he was the only other person who knew what she was going through.

  ‘I actually managed to try a breastfeed with her this morning. She’s amazed everyone. She’s our little fighter,’ gushed the proud mother.

  Claire smiled and nodded and mumbled the odd appropriate reply, but as wonderful as baby Charlotte’s progress was she was tuned into a different wavelength.

  Campbell and Claire left together, chatting inanely about Charlotte. They got into the lift, and their conversation petered out. They stood
side by side, close but not touching.

  ‘Come back to my house for the weekend.’ Campbell spoke into the silence.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed.

  They smiled at each other, and he took her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm. The look in her eyes told Claire he was about to slam her against the wall and ravage her. She felt her breath quicken in anticipation, but the lift pinged and the doors open and people crowded in.

  Claire couldn’t explain it. She just had to see Campbell. As much as she knew she should stay away, he was the only person who understood. She had the weekend off and she couldn’t bear the thought of having all that time on her hands. She needed to forget everything this weekend, and two days in his company would be a very pleasant distraction.

  * * *

  Claire’s father was pleased when she rang him to inform him of her plans. He’d sensed she was struggling with something but had tactfully decided not to push. He knew his daughter would tell him when the time was right. He was relieved that she was getting out of the house for a while. She’d given up too much of her life helping him with Mary.

  Claire and Campbell travelled in his car to the apartment in silence. Their thoughts were separate but similar. They both knew that destiny was running their lives and there was nothing they could do to stop it. The sense of impending fate hung over them like a thundercloud. They needed each other to navigate a way through the next couple of days.

  Campbell pushed the door open and pulled Claire into the room and into his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry. I tried to stay away,’ he whispered, and he held her and murmured words of love. He felt so helpless. What did you say to someone who was facing demons few people faced? All he could offer her was the solace of his embrace, as she had offered hers when he had needed it. He hoped it was enough for this moment.

  She pulled back a little so she could see his face.

  ‘Me, too. I’m sorry. I’m not being fair to you…’

  ‘Shh. It doesn’t matter. I love you. I’ve always loved you.’ He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and kissed her there gently.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I wish it was enough.’