Page 1 of The Village Midwife
1
No day as a midwife was the same as any other. That was one of the reasons Zoe loved her job so much. That and the joyful reward of helping to bring new life into the world. Even when things didn’t have a happy ending, she felt a deep sense of purpose from the comfort and advice she was able to give.
This damp, gloomy Manchester day started at 5 a.m., when one of the mums in her care, Molly, went into labour two weeks early. It was Molly’s first, and she’d been nervous all along, repeatedly asking Zoe to be at the birth. Zoe couldn’t always make it for various reasons to do with shift patterns and schedules, but she’d promised that she would be there if she could.
It was lucky that Zoe had already been awake when the text had come through, watching from her window as the neighbour’s cat danced along a garden fence and then chased something into the hedge, as the rest of the street slept and the sky began to lighten.
Ritchie was dead to the world, mouth open as he drew in a noisy breath which made her smile, but then Zoe’s husband had never struggled with sleeping. It had been a constant source ofamusement and sometimes contention over the years of their marriage, but now she was glad. It was bad enough that she faced a working day running on coffee and adrenaline, but it didn’t seem fair that he’d have to as well. They’d joked about inventing some kind of mega alarm to wake him when their baby arrived and it was his turn to do a night feed, and he’d agreed in all seriousness that she’d probably have to get him up, but she’d decided that made no sense. If she had to rouse him, then that meant she was already awake and so she might as well feed the baby anyway.
Since she’d become pregnant herself, the need to pee had started to disturb her far too often. And then, as soon as she was up, the morning sickness might set in, or if not that, something else would have her wide awake and struggling to drop back off.
It was Zoe’s first pregnancy, and it was funny to think that even though she cared for other pregnant women every day as a career, her own experiences often took her by surprise. She knew very well how debilitating morning sickness could be, but to experience it first-hand had made her realise that even the mildest cases could be seriously disruptive for everyday life. She was well aware that being pregnant could affect everything from hair and skin to how often someone needed the toilet, but she still hadn’t quite been prepared to see the changes in her own body. She knew about mood swings but had reflected with shock on her own reaction when husband Ritchie had forgotten to stack the dishwasher one evening earlier that week. It was all at once territory so familiar to her and yet a strange new world. Exciting, yes, but she felt she was on a learning curve as big as the expectant mothers she cared for, despite her training.
Now, the vast, glossy-walled corridors of the hospital were quiet as Zoe marched towards the labour suites. It was tiring, of course, even more so in her current state, but she still loved the building during the early hours. It was far more peaceful thanduring the day, with only the most crucial functions going on, barely any visitors, less noise from the city outside the windows, and many of the patients sleeping. Still, she could hear some commotion already coming from the room where Molly was being attended by a colleague. It was clear Molly was struggling.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here so soon,’ Linda, the other on-call midwife said as Zoe stepped into the room.
‘Yeah, I was already awake.’
‘Ah…’ Linda gave a knowing smile. ‘And how are you feeling? Apart from not sleeping?’
‘Not too bad. Knackered, of course,’ Zoe replied briskly as she washed her hands at the sink. ‘I just keep thinking, if I’m like this now, what am I going to be like in six months?’ Without waiting for a reply, she took herself over to Molly and rubbed her hand with an encouraging smile. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I don’t know,’ Molly said weakly. ‘Is it normal for it to hurt this much? I thought that was only when you’re pushing.’
‘There’s no two labours the same,’ Zoe said. ‘I wish I could tell you it will get easier, but nobody can say that for sure. But keep thinking about how wonderful it will be in the end. And once it’s all over, we quickly forget how bad it was.’
‘Is that a big fat lie to make me feel better?’ Molly grimaced.
‘No,’ Zoe replied gently. ‘That much I can tell you with confidence. This time next week, all this pain will be a distant memory.’
Linda shot her a sceptical look.
‘All right,’ Zoe added with a slight smile. ‘Maybe it will take a bit longer than a week. But I absolutely promise it’ll be worth it.’
Linda gave her another look, and Zoe recognised this one too. Perhaps she shouldn’t always be tempted to make promises like that, but when she was with a woman so obviously in need of encouragement and reassurance, she tended to resort to whatever promise would get her through. It didn’t always endwell, and she knew that. But she wasn’t about to issue a caveat like that to a young woman who was going to struggle to make it through the next few hours as it was. If it helped to tell Molly that everything would be fine and that there would be a happy ending, then she was going to, no matter how much her colleague might disapprove.
By ten that evening, Molly had barely progressed. Zoe had called for consultant assistance an hour earlier than that, but even the midwifery team’s combined efforts coupled with the doctor’s considerable expertise hadn’t managed to get the birth back on track.
‘Heart rate’s dropping,’ Zoe said, glancing at the monitor. There was no reason to panic – she’d dealt with situations like this many times before. But later, when she thought back to that day, that moment stuck in her mind. Something pricked at her senses, some presentiment, something that told her the day wasn’t going to end well. If she’d known then what she’d later discover, would she have done anything differently?
The consultant nodded. ‘Right, let’s get theatre prepped.’ She turned to Molly, who was barely able to see straight after the barrage of different painkilling drugs she’d received. ‘We want to make sure you and baby are safe, and things are getting difficult, so we’re going to get you ready for a caesarean. OK?’
Molly gave a weak nod. Zoe reached to smooth her hair away from her face. She’d never given birth herself, but she’d seen enough of them to know that at this stage Molly would likely have agreed to anything. She’d want it over, to finally hold her baby in her arms and forget the ordeal that had been necessary to get them there.
In the back of her mind, even though Zoe felt sympathy for Molly, even though she’d seen first-hand how tough it could be,there was still a kick of excitement as she thought about the baby growing in her own belly – how, in a little over five months she’d be looking forward to holding her own child in her arms.
‘Nearly there,’ she said with an encouraging smile. ‘The worst is over.’
‘But I want to do it myself…’ Molly whimpered and then started to sob with such obvious exhaustion there was hardly a sound in it. ‘I feel like I’ve failed…’
‘You’ve done all you can do,’ Zoe said. ‘You’ve been through more than any person ought to go through today – remember that. You’ve been amazing, but now it’s time for us to do what we get paid for. It’s only a little help to get you to the end.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Not a bit. It can’t possibly hurt any more than anything else has today, right?’
Molly let her head fall back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. She’d been in and out of lucidity like this since they’d upped her painkillers. Zoe mopped her brow and then looked up to see a pair of porters race in to assist the team into theatre.
