They hurried to the garage and got in the car. The panic was taut between them on the drive to the hospital. Tom kept squeezing Ali’s hand and trying to catch her eye. Ali stared down at her belly. Hoping.
But there was nothing.
Tom
Tom was able to remain calm from the moment Ali told him. He was calm when he phoned Ashford Hospital. He was calm when he told Ali what they had to do. He was calm on the drive to the Women’s and Children’s Hospital in North Adelaide. He was calm as he helped Ali out of the car and guided her past the row of smokers standing just beyond the No Smoking sign, through the sliding glass doors and into the hospital. He was calm as he worked out where the women’s emergency department was. He was calm as Ali answered a long list of questions and filled out a form with a million details. He remained calm right up until the triage nurse asked them to take a seat in the room with the other waiting patients.
That was when he lost it.
‘You can’t just leave us waiting here!’ he yelled. ‘What’s wrong with these people?’ He gestured at the dozen other people in the room, sitting silently, watching him. ‘Have they got fucking colds? Did you hear what we told you? Our baby might be dying!’
The nurse’s expression didn’t falter, a sign that she was accustomed to such treatment. ‘Please calm down, sir. I understand your concerns. We’ll call you through as soon as possible.’
Tom glared back at her until he felt Ali’s hand, so light it was almost insubstantial, on his arm. He took a deep breath and turned to follow her over to a pair of vacant chairs.
‘Ridiculous!’ he muttered.
His knee jiggled up and down involuntarily as they waited. How could they just leave them sitting here like this? He wanted to punish someone, anybody, but wherever he looked there were only innocent individuals, entombed in their own private worlds of worry.
‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’ he shot at Ali without thinking.
She turned to look at him. Her eyes were haunted.
‘Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’ He tried to put an arm around her, but she shrugged him off.
He retreated. Everything was going to be fine. Soon a no-nonsense doctor would find out there was nothing wrong with the baby, would even rib them a bit for coming to emergency.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a nurse appeared in the doorway. ‘Alison O’Hare? Come through.’
Before
When Tom was awoken by Ali’s hand taking his and guiding it to her smooth, warm flesh, he was smiling before he even opened his eyes. Her sex drive had only increased since she’d fallen pregnant. He blinked a few times until her face came into focus.
She was grinning, as if she’d been awake for a while. ‘I thought you might want to feel this. She’s been partying so hard she woke me up.’
Tom immediately splayed his hand over her belly. He’d been trying for weeks to feel the little flutters and bumps that Ali kept talking about, but so far the baby hadn’t moved when he was there. But now he felt it—a soft shivering just beneath the surface of her skin. His desire was replaced by something else; something stronger. Something that tugged at his heart with an exquisite sharpness. He loved this baby so much already.
He rolled onto his side so their bodies were touching, not moving his hand from her belly. ‘I’m kind of jealous that you get to experience this every day.’
She laughed. ‘You won’t be jealous when I’m pushing her out.’
He kissed her. ‘Yes, I will.’
Ali
The floor seemed to float beneath Ali’s feet as she followed the midwife through the double doors and into a large room, empty other than a row of beds made up with crisp white sheets. She was barely aware of Tom’s presence behind her, concentrating only on placing one foot in front of the other.
When the midwife turned to face her, Ali recognised her expression at once—it was the same one the midwives at Ashford Hospital had worn when she’d had the dilation and curettage after her second miscarriage. Pity.
A slow, creeping terror began to build inside her. The midwife asked her to get up on the bed. Her voice swam into Ali’s conscious as if from underwater. ‘It’s OK, you can stay sitting up. I’m going to try the Doppler on your belly and see if I can pick up a heartbeat.’
She switched it on and moved it slowly around on Ali’s belly. Ali felt Tom’s hand clasp hers. She strained to hear her baby’s heart beating over the white static, not daring to move in case she missed it. Several long minutes dragged by. The midwife’s expression didn’t change. Finally she removed the Doppler and set it down on the table beside the bed.
‘I think it’s better if we arrange for you to have an ultrasound. They’re a bit more accurate than these old things.’ She placed a hand on Ali’s shoulder; it was surprisingly gentle after her businesslike manner. ‘You two wait here. The sonographer will be with you shortly.’
Ali stared, unseeing. Tom’s hand still clutched hers, but she barely felt it. Silence shrouded them.
‘The baby’s probably just lying in a weird position,’ Tom ventured after a while. ‘The ultrasound will pick it up.’
Ali didn’t respond. Part of her resented him for feeding her own hope.
Finally, the sonographer appeared with the midwife. He was Vietnamese, slight of frame, with a hank of black hair that flopped over his forehead in a way that made him seem boyish and approachable. The name tag pinned on his shirt told her his name was Hieu Van Nguyen. Ali wondered how to pronounce it. Hew? Hey? Hwey? Not knowing bothered her.
‘Hello Alison, I’ll be doing your ultrasound.’ He tried to fill the empty space with pointless words. Tried, perhaps, to put off the inevitable. ‘If you’d like to come with me, we’ll go to the ultrasound room.’
Tom helped her down from the bed, and he and the midwife flanked her as they followed Hieu out of the room and down a warren of hallways. The room he led them to was smaller, with only one bed and the familiar shape of an ultrasound machine.
‘How many weeks are you, Alison?’ Hieu asked.
‘Thirty.’
‘OK, if you’d like to get up on the bed, we’ll get started.’
Ali wished he’d stop saying if you’d like to, as if there were a choice. Of course she wouldn’t like to. She’d like to go home with a video of her baby girl squirming around and the knowledge that in ten weeks’ time, she’d be giving birth to a healthy child in the private hospital they’d chosen.
As Hieu spread the cold jelly over her skin with the transducer, her fear grew, building into a tornado inside her. Tom was leaning forward, staring hard at the ultrasound screen, but she couldn’t bear to look. After what seemed like an age, Hieu cleared his throat, and Ali wished she could slow down time, hold up her hands to stop the tidal wave that was about to crash over her.
‘I’m very sorry, Alison.’ His words were a shower of individual, stinging pellets. ‘I can’t detect a heartbeat and there’s no movement.’
The blow knocked the breath out of her and she covered her face with her hands. Through the roaring in her ears, she heard Tom speak, trying to make sense of what had happened.
‘What do you mean? She’s…?’
‘I’m afraid your baby has died.’
‘There’s nothing you can do to… to restart her heart?’
‘I’m so sorry.’
There were a few seconds of silence, then Tom heaved a great, choking breath. ‘FUCK!’ His voice was unrecognisable, guttural with pain. ‘Fuck fuck fuck!’
Ali flinched with every expletive, as if they were aimed at her. Bitter bile rose in her throat, and she leant over the side of the bed and vomited. The involuntary act must have jolted Tom out of his rage, because Ali felt his hands on her head, pulling her hair away from her face as she retched. When her stomach was empty and there was nothing left to bring up, she remained hunched over the edge of the bed. If she looked up, if she made eye contact with Tom or Hieu or the midwife, it would all be rea
l. She would have to face the truth. It was the sight of Hieu’s vomit-spattered shoes through the blur of tears in her eyes that finally made her sit up.
‘Sorry about your shoes,’ she said dully.
Tom
Tom cradled Ali in his arms as the midwife, Belinda, cleaned up the mess on the floor with quick efficiency, leaving behind a tang of antiseptic that prickled in his nostrils. He felt like throwing up himself. How could this have happened to them? Such a tragedy didn’t fit with Tom’s keen sense of justice. They’d already lost two babies. They were good people. They loved each other and they’d done all the right things to bring this child into the world.
The long, silent minutes slid by in a haze of misery. Ali was frozen, her body stiff, as if she were the one who’d died. She didn’t speak. Tom was still waiting for the truth to sink in, but instead a numbness crept over him. This just didn’t make sense. The sonographer must have made a mistake. He buried his face in his wife’s hair, wished he could disappear into her.
After what seemed like hours, a figure darkened the doorway. Tom lifted his head from Ali’s and took in the middle-aged woman with sandy grey-blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed too brilliant for the situation. A stethoscope hung from her neck and she carried Ali’s case notes like a shield. He sat up straight, and Ali followed suit.
‘Alison, Tom.’ The woman stepped into the room. ‘I’m Kathy, one of the doctors here. I’m so terribly sorry, but I’ll need to scan you again to confirm the absence of the foetal heartbeat.’
They said nothing as the doctor went through the motions that had filled them with such excitement for every other ultrasound. In a calm, even voice, Kathy assured them that they weren’t to blame, that pregnancy loss was tragically common, that it was usually caused by genetic or other defects, and that she recommended they have an autopsy performed on the baby, but in many cases it was impossible to determine the cause of death.
Nothing she said seemed relevant to Tom, because he was still hoping for a miracle, that the sonographer had been wrong and the baby was still alive.
When Kathy replaced the transducer in its cradle, it was Tom she looked to first. ‘I’m so sorry, but we need to discuss your options for giving birth to your baby.’
Tom started. After the initial shock of the news, it hadn’t occurred to him that Ali would still have to go through that. He darted a look at her. Her eyes were glassy. She appeared unable, or unwilling, to speak. He cleared his throat. ‘What are the options?’
Kathy’s blue eyes were soft with compassion. ‘You have three choices. We can induce you right away and you can give birth to your baby naturally. This will involve taking tablets to stimulate labour, which you’ll take every four hours until you’re in active labour. Unfortunately there’s no way to predict how long this process will take… for some women, it happens quite quickly, but for others it can take a few days. There are a range of pain relief options we can use to make the process as easy as possible for you. Alternatively, you can have a Caesarean, or you can go home for tonight and think about your options. Personally, I recommend the first option, but the decision is entirely up to you.’
Tom looked at Ali again. Her expression hadn’t altered. She looked almost catatonic. He rubbed her back in small circles, but her body was a board; hard, unyielding. Tom couldn’t understand why she had to go through the trauma of giving birth. Why couldn’t they put her under, like the procedure she’d had last year when she’d miscarried?
‘Honey?’ He patted Ali’s shoulder. ‘What do you want to do?’
Ali didn’t respond.
Kathy gave Tom a sad smile. ‘I’ll come back in half an hour.’
She’d just reached the door when Ali spoke. ‘Let’s get it over with. Whatever you recommend is fine.’
Her words came out in a harsh bark that sliced through Tom. He found it difficult to concentrate as Kathy went into the process of the induction in greater detail.
When she’d left the room, Tom tried to catch Ali’s eye, but she wouldn’t look at him. ‘We should probably let our families know what happened.’ His words may as well have dropped below the surface of a swamp. Tom wished he could pull his wife against him, but there was a force field of rejection around her that he did not dare attempt to penetrate. He had the feeling that if he broke physical contact with her now, she’d float away and he’d never be able to bring her back. So he kept hold of her hand as he eased himself off the bed and fumbled in his pocket for his phone.
‘Tom, darling, what a surprise!’ The warmth in his mother’s voice made Tom want to hang up so he wouldn’t have to tell her. He dropped Ali’s hand and drifted away across the room.
‘Mum.’ He faltered. ‘I’ve got some bad news.’
‘What’s happened? Are you OK? Is it Ali?’ Her voice was panicked. Tom imagined her hand rising to cover her mouth, as it always did when she was worried.
‘It’s the baby,’ Tom said. ‘The baby stopped… the baby died. We’re in the hospital now.’
‘Oh Tom, darling, I’m so sorry.’ Her words came out in a rush. ‘Do you want Dad and me to come?’
Tom hesitated. In his inner core, where his boyhood self remained, he wanted to say yes. He wanted nothing more than to allow his mother to wrap him in her arms and make the hurt go away. But as he glanced back at Ali, he knew what the answer had to be.
‘That’s OK. We’ll be all right.’
His mother sniffed and Tom could hear the tears in her voice when she spoke. ‘I hope Ali’s mum will be there for her. No girl should have to go through that without her mother.’
Tom looked at his wife again. Ali wasn’t a girl anymore, and Hazel was the last person she needed at a time like this.
‘I’d better go, Mum,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you again when we’re home.’
After he’d hung up the phone, Tom wanted to go to Ali, to comfort her, but it felt like there’d been a wall between them ever since he’d made that stupid comment in the waiting room. He remained where he was, standing in the corner of the room, until Belinda poked her head around the door.
‘Alison, Tom, how are you doing?’ The midwife’s voice was warm, full of compassion. ‘Come with me, we’ll go up to the labour ward.’
Belinda kept up a steady chatter in a low tone as they followed her down the long corridors. Tom could tell she was doing her best to distract them from the other pregnant women they passed. He dug his fingernails into his palms until it hurt. His emotions bubbled up inside, threatening to overwhelm him, but he pushed them down.
Keep it together. Step up. Take responsibility.
He moved up beside Ali, his hand on her back, trying to shield her from the curious looks of passers-by. It was a strange kind of comfort, to set himself this goal. He dared not think ahead to what lay at the end of this corridor.
Ali
Ali was numb as Belinda led them into yet another room, with a bed in the middle and an armchair on one wall under the single window. A door in the opposite corner opened into a bathroom. Belinda turned and put her hand on Ali’s arm.
‘All the other deliveries are happening at the other end of the ward, so hopefully you won’t hear anything from here.’
Oh god, Ali thought. They have a special room, just for this.
The sound of normal labour, the sound of healthy newborn babies crying. Sounds she was never going to hear.
‘Here are your first lot of tablets,’ Belinda went on. ‘Hold them under your tongue until they dissolve.’
Ali stared at the two tablets sitting in the small plastic cup. They were small, hexagonal, innocent looking. She held out her hand.
As the tablets disintegrated under her tongue, their astringent taste mixed with her saliva and spread through her mouth. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to throw up again. Finally, when she could no longer feel the chalky substance under her tongue, she swallowed with a grimace.
‘Well done.’ Belinda handed her a glass of water, which sh
e’d filled from the plastic jug on the table beside the bed. ‘Now, what would you like to do about pain relief? We can arrange an early epidural, or morphine via IV with a patient-controlled analgesia. The second option is a good one because not only can you control your own pain relief but it can also help you sleep while you wait.’
‘Nothing,’ Ali said.
‘But…’ For the first time, Belinda looked uncertain. ‘There’s no need for you to go through the pain considering what’s happened.’
But Ali didn’t want to turn the pain off. She wanted to feel every last twinge while her baby was still a part of her. ‘Thank you, but I don’t want anything.’
Belinda looked dubious. ‘OK, well remember you can change your mind at any time. You’re due for your next lot of tablets at 10pm. Make yourselves comfortable. Can I bring you anything? Do you want the television on?’
Ali shook her head.
‘We’ve called your obstetrician,’ Belinda continued. ‘She’ll be here once she’s done with her patients at Ashford.’
Ali tried to smile, but the expression felt wrong on her face. It was only as Belinda disappeared that she noticed Tom slumped in the armchair, watching her. She’d almost forgotten he was there.
‘Sorry, did you want the TV on?’ she said.
‘Nah, that’s OK,’ Tom said.
‘We can if you want.’
‘See how we feel later, hey?’
Ali had the perverse urge to laugh. Later, she would be giving birth in circumstances neither of them could ever have imagined, and here they were having a polite conversation about whether or not to watch television on the tiny little screen that hung from the ceiling.
They’d often speculated on what it would be like in the labour ward, whether they’d argue, what snack foods they’d pack to get through the first stages. After the miscarriages, Ali had never quite managed to shake the worry that something would go wrong with this pregnancy, but she couldn’t have predicted this. Stillbirth was something that happened to other people.
Misconception Page 2