Page 43 of Prognosis Do Over

She shook her head sadly. ‘No, Will. I don’t want you to be there but not be there. I’m scared at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll muddle through. For Jan’s sake. For the sake of my little niece or nephew. But I can’t do it with you hanging around in the background. It has to be all or nothing for us. Having you around and knowing it can never be is too hard.’

Will knew what she was saying. And he understood where she was coming from. She was right. Being friendly would be torture. ‘I know,’ he said miserably, kissing her shoulder. ‘I know.’

Lou felt a sudden incredible pressure inside, and pushed herself away from him, flailing her arms until she grabbed Will’s knees to balance herself.

‘What?’ Will asked. ‘What’s the matter Lou?’

‘I need to push,’ she said. ‘Now!’

‘I’ll get Bree,’ he said, moving out from behind her quickly, his long stride reaching the door in seconds.

And then it was action stations. Lou clutched Will’s hands, worried again, now that the arrival was imminent, about the babe’s prematurity. She pushed all the dreadful worst-case scenario thoughts to the back of her mind as she concentrated everything she had on pushing the baby out.

But still the dread persisted.

Was the baby going to be all right? Six weeks early. It was going to be small. Would it breathe okay when it finally emerged? Would its premi lungs be able to cope? Would it have to be intubated or spend time in the NICU or the special care nursery?

Her bond with Jan’s baby was already so strong that the mere thought that she might have to be separated from her niece or nephew was too horrible to think about.

Lou found it impossible to lie on her back, the pressure of the mattress causing excruciating pain in her lower lumbar region. So Bree placed a bean bag in the middle of the bed, threw a sheet over it, and Lou knelt in front of it, settled her bump into the soft cushion of beans and hugged her arms around the bag in a supported kneeling position.

Will also knelt on the bed, on the other side of the bean bag, opposite Lou, holding her hand, crooning encouragement and brushing her hair off her face. Bree was behind Lou, gloved, ready for the head to crown.

‘Nearly there. I can just see the head now,’ she said to Lou. ‘You’re doing so well.’

‘Tell me the baby’s going to be okay,’ Lou panted to Will, as one contraction eased and she waited for another to push some more.

‘The baby’s going to be perfect,’ Will said, wiping her face with a cool cloth.

‘No tube, no oxygen, brilliant Apgar’s,’ Lou chanted, trying to calm herself with positive thinking.

‘Quick suction, quick once-over, Apgar’s ten out of ten,’ he assured her, kissing her forehead.

‘Oh, God,’ Lou wailed, ‘here comes another one.’

‘One step closer,’ Will said, rallying her, his forehead against hers, preparing himself for her vice-like grip on his hand. She looked exhausted. ‘You can do it, Lou. Not long now. Big, big push.’

She looked at him mutinously until the pain forced her eyes shut. She gripped his hand and obeyed. Just as well they weren’t married, she thought as she drummed her feet against the mattress. Because at the moment she never wanted to see his peppy, you-can-do-it expression ever again.

After three more pushes the baby’s head had almost stretched Lou’s birth canal to the maximum. In one more push the head would be crowning, and, barring any complications, the baby would be here in less than two minutes.

‘Page the resus team,’ Bree said to the other midwife in the room.

She looked over the top of Lou’s head and nodded at Will. ‘Lou, the baby’s about to crown. I’ve paged the team and they’ll be here shortly. With the next contraction I want you to just pant — don’t push, okay?’

Lou heard her words and nodded wearily. She’d do anything if it meant the pain would be over soon. But, despite her exhaustion, her fears for the baby were uppermost. ‘The team is going to be here in time?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Any second,’ Bree assured her.

The team arrived thirty seconds later, just as the next contraction hit, and as soon as Lou heard their arrival she knew it was safe for the baby to come out. She shut her eyes as the pain built to a crescendo and concentrated on the impossible — not pushing.

‘Don’t push, Lou, pant,’ Bree demanded, her hand on the baby’s head, trying to slow the delivery a little to prevent any tearing.

Lou felt as if she was splitting in two. The stretching was unbearable, and there was a fierce burning sensation. God, she was going to die here on this bed. At least Will would be with her at the end.

‘Easy, Lou, easy. Don’t push.’

‘I’m not,’ she groaned. ‘It’s just happening.’

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