Page 40 of Prognosis Do Over

It wasn’t right that they couldn’t be here to see their baby being born as they’d planned on doing. Or that they weren’t going to take him or her home from hospital. Lou wanted to kick the wall. She’d trade her soul at that moment to have them here in the room with her.

She felt a sob choke in the back of her throat at the same time as the most forceful contraction to date surged through her womb, and she bellowed in despair, leaning against the wall, tears streaming down her face as she railed against the fates and the pain cramping her belly.

Will had been watching her pace, feeling about as useful as udders on a bull. Every time he’d tried to comfort her she’d shaken her head and moved away. He wished he knew what to do. She didn’t seem that content, walking back and forth, in fact she looked miserable, but she seemed to want to be alone as well.

‘Lou,’ he said, rushing to her side. ‘Let me help you. What can I do?’

Lou felt the hot burn of tears trekking down her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to cry and breathe at the same time. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

Will heard her voice, thick with emotion. ‘Do you want me to rub your back?’

‘No,’ she said, choking on a sob that she couldn’t hold back.

Her slim shoulders shook and Will felt as if a knife was stabbing him in the heart as he put his arms around her shoulders. ‘You want an epidural?’

‘No,’ she wailed, disintegrating further into tears.

‘Pethidine?’

‘No,’ she sobbed, and shook her head, shrugging her shoulders so his hands fell away.

‘Lou, they don’t give out medals for bravery, here. Tell me — I must be able to do something! What do you want?’

Rage and impotence and worry and physical exhaustion rose inside Lou like a tidal wave. She turned to him, her blue eyes burning fiercely, tears brimming and then spilling down her face. ‘I...’ She took a deep breath. ‘Want...’ She took another. ‘My...’ She swallowed a sob and plunged on, her voice cracking. ‘Sister!’

And she didn’t bother holding back the tears or the emotion, sobs racking her body along with another contraction as she grunted her despair and grief.

Will felt as if he had been punched. He hadn’t seen her grief this raw, and he pulled her in close, whether she wanted it or not, and held her while she unburdened.

‘Jan was supposed to be here...’ Lou sobbed into his shoulder. ‘She was going to deliver her baby.’ Her breath caught on a sob and she coughed and spluttered briefly. ‘Martin was going to cut the cord.’

Will rocked her, at a loss for something to say. What could he say to make it better? To take away her grief? The birthing process was always an emotional journey, but for Lou it was bittersweet in the most poignant way possible.

‘I’m so sorry, Lou,’ he crooned.

‘Oh, Will,’ she sobbed. ‘I — oh, no! Here comes another one. I want it to stop, Will,’ she said, looking at him with her face screwed up in agony, her hands clutching his shirt and her chest heaving with the effort to stop the convulsive sobs and breathe through the contraction. ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’

‘I know,’ he said, rubbing her back as he supported her weight and absently kissing her forehead. ‘I know.’

Try as she might, Lou just couldn’t stop the tears. She felt weak and useless and powerless against the contractions. Her grief magnified her misery tenfold. Not even Will’s solid presence, the feel of his chest beneath her hand, the hard ridge of his collarbone beneath her forehead, could quiet her cries.

‘Make it stop,’ she begged, her voice muffled by his chest. ‘Make it stop, Will.’

Will had never felt so impotent in his life. He didn’t know what to do. Delvine had had an elective Caesar, so he was at a loss. But he’d do anything – give anything – top take away her suffering right now.

‘Bree?’ He looked at the unruffled midwife questioningly. Stop writing in that stupid chart and do something, damn it!

‘She’s in transition,’ she said quietly over Lou’s cries. ‘Feeling that you can’t go on is perfectly normal at this stage.’

‘How do I help?’

Bree smiled at the helpless-male look written all over the very competent Dr Galligher’s face. She put down her pen and walked towards them.

‘Lou,’ she said, ‘you need to stop crying and concentrate.’ Her voice was stern, devoid of emotion.

‘I can’t,’ said Lou, sobbing harder.

‘Nonsense,’ Bree said briskly. ‘There’s no such thing as can’t. Right, Will?’

---