The Midwife's Special Delivery. Carol Marinelli
faded, Ally instantly regretted her words. Rory didn’t have a mother; in fact, Rory didn’t have any relatives. An only child, his mother had died when he’d been small and his father had lost his battle with cancer just before Rory had left to go to America. Ally had no idea of the circumstances of his mother’s death. Rory had only referred to it a couple of times and had always been horribly awkward with her afterwards, insisting that he was well over it, that it had all happened years ago. But, still, her thoughtless comment had clearly hurt and that had never been her intention.
Lord, how she wished somehow that she could take it back!
‘I’m sorry.’ Her apology was as embarrassed and as wooden as his response. ‘I should have known better—I just didn’t think…’
‘It’s no big deal.’ Rory shrugged those wide shoulders as if the words had barely registered, but his eyes told her otherwise. ‘I’ll go and see how Lucy’s doing.’
Gently he examined her, sitting down on the bed beside her and talking comfortingly as he performed the rather uncomfortable procedure. Ally watched as the rapport he had so easily created with his patient the moment he had walked into the room grew. Lucy was clearly comfortable with her doctor and that was incredibly important—Ally knew that more than most. In the public health system, rarely did patients get much of a say in what doctor would deliver them. Often, as the doctor arrived for the delivery, there wasn’t even time for more than the briefest of introductions. This matter had been addressed at Bay View by the midwifery team, a group of midwives allocated to each patient, looking after the mother during her pregnancy, so that in most cases a familiar face was present at the delivery. But even if Rory’s face wasn’t familiar, this morning it was very welcome. Dean was listening carefully as Rory explained his wife’s progress.
‘She’s almost there, Dean. Just encourage her to keep pushing. You’re both doing a great job.’
‘Don’t go too far.’ Ally smiled as Rory stood up, no doubt realising there was a good half-hour’s work before the baby came and ready for a bit of TLC and catching up with Win. ‘We might be needing you soon.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Rory said easily, picking up a newspaper Dean had bought from the mobile trolley, sitting down on the two-seater sofa in the corner and turning directly to his horoscope. ‘Do you know what you’re having, Lucy?’
‘A baby,’ she gasped, ‘hopefully.’
‘A Pisces,’ Rory corrected, ‘which is the same star sign as me—so you can’t go wrong.’
And of all the things she’d remembered, this was one thing Ally had almost forgotten. Forgotten that unlike most doctors Rory didn’t just arrive for the grand finale but actually enjoyed the last act. It could have been annoying, a doctor peering over his newspaper every now and then and telling a labouring woman to push over the pain, but somehow it was comforting. That a doctor was here made Lucy feel safe, that he hadn’t dashed off and told her the end was in sight. It helped Dean, too, because if Rory thought this display from Lucy was absolutely fine, then maybe, just maybe, it was.
‘Time to get dressed.’ Standing up, he pulled on his gown and gloves but didn’t intervene, just stood behind Ally’s shoulder observing quietly as she attempted to deliver a rather large shoulder. At that moment, Ally was grateful for his calm presence. She felt a tiny beat of panic as she wondered if maybe this baby was too big, if this shoulder was ever going to free. ‘Finger behind,’ Rory murmured, and it wasn’t an instruction, more encouragement when so many doctors would have taken over. ‘Got it.’
She could almost feel his smile shining over her shoulder as the baby’s shoulders were delivered and the baby uncurled, crying before the rest of its body was even out.
‘What is it?’ Lucy cried, as Ally placed the tiny bundle onto its mother’s stomach. She was grateful that Rory didn’t answer, just rubbed the babe’s back as mum and dad had the pleasure of finding out. ‘A girl,’ Lucy gasped. ‘We’ve got a girl.’
‘Congratulations.’ Rory smiled as the baby’s body pinked with each and every lusty breath, angry fists flailing as Lucy pulled her in closer. ‘She’s beautiful.’
She really was.
Ally felt her eyes fill as they always did as a new life gave a bewildered blink at the world it had entered. She relished those couple of moments of naked beauty before she wrapped up the babe. Dark strands of hair were plastered to the infant’s head, round blue eyes fixed on her mother’s, and Ally was in no rush to break the spell. Taking a blanket from the warmer, she wrapped it around mother and daughter as Dean held them both close. She quietly got on with her work, the placenta being delivered easily as the baby suckled.
‘I’ll come back in a while,’ Rory said, slipping away, dimming the lights as he left.
Even that small gesture touched her. Clearly he remembered how she liked to work: the curtains were still drawn and that was exactly how Ally liked it for morning births—the woman had laboured all night, and for a little while the darkness was still welcome. Later either she or Dean would welcome the new day in for the new arrival. Ally tidied up as best she could, recording her two patients’ observations as unobtrusively—completely happy with the newborn’s progress. Her skin was a healthy pink, her eyes wide as she vigorously suckled. All too soon Ally would have to weigh her, measure her, check her over, then call the paediatrician to do the same. All too soon, the babe would be bathed, the hair that was plastered to her head would become soft and fluffy, the creamy vernix—mother nature’s version of cold cream—that covered her now would soon be washed away, but for now she was as new as a newborn got and Ally wasn’t about to break this very special moment.
‘How are you doing, Lucy?’ Ally checked, smiling at the tired, delighted new mother who was too mesmerised by her daughter to even look up.
‘She’s OK?’
‘She’s perfect,’ Ally said softly, answering every mum’s question. ‘We’ll check her over properly later, but for now she looks wonderful. How are you feeling, Lucy? That’s important, too.’
‘Tired,’ Lucy admitted, then gave an almost apologetic grin. ‘I’m starving, actually.’
‘Why don’t I give Win a call and get the pair of you some breakfast? While you have that, I can weigh and check over this gorgeous girl of yours.’
‘Can I hold her for a moment longer?’
‘You can hold her for as long as you want.’ Ally smiled. ‘Win’s not as fast as she used to be, so breakfast might take a while!’
Win, as always, timed it perfectly! Just long enough to give Mum and Dad that first long cuddle and just short enough for them not to feel guiltily relieved when Ally took their precious baby off for its myriad of tests while they tucked into tea and toast Win-style—although the eggs Rory had promised were no longer on the menu. Since Rory had last been here, things had changed. Meals were delivered directly from the kitchens, and even though the fridge groaned under the weight of the free-range eggs Win brought in from home, for health and safety reasons they could only be eaten by the staff. As Ally headed into the staffroom for a well-earned cuppa, she found Rory doing just that!
‘How are they?’ Rory looked up from his mountain of eggs and toast.
‘Great. Hugh, the paediatrician, is in looking at the babe now.’ Heading for the kettle, Ally’s tone was dry. ‘I’d hate to know your cholesterol level, Rory. It must be through the roof.’
‘Actually, it’s very low.’ Rory laughed.
‘I doubt it,’ Ally said, pouring herself a drink and picking up the newspaper—deliberately not turning to the horoscope section, even though she normally did every other day. ‘I cleared away two pizza boxes last night.’
‘Life’s bloody unfair like that sometimes.’ Rory rained more salt on his eggs as he chatted. ‘When I hit the big three-o I decided to take my own advice and get myself checked over properly.