Baby for the Midwife: The Midwife's Baby / Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Midwife / Countdown to Baby. Anne Fraser
road if we don’t beat them there.’
He scooped her up in his arms and she cringed. ‘Your beautiful suit.’
‘It’s only a suit.’ He grinned down at her and incredibly his eyes were golden and caring and she suddenly felt her baby had a chance, even though the odds were stacked against them.
Another contraction coiled viciously through her and she moaned. This was terrifying.
Max carried her swiftly to his black limousine. White ribbons fluttered on the long bonnet and the JUST MARRIED placard sat proudly on the boot.
Georgia shifted in his arms as she twisted her neck to see. ‘Not this car, Max. The seats.’
‘To hell with the seats. At least we have room and the windows are tinted.’
Max’s chauffeur’s usually impassive expression faltered as Max deposited the wrong woman in the wedding car.
‘Newcastle Hospital ASAP. I’ll pay the speeding fines,’ Max said over his shoulder as he climbed in after her. He pulled shut the door before he sat opposite Georgia and shrugged out of his jacket.
The car accelerated away from the kerb and Georgia fell back in a heap. Max leaned across from the facing seat to help her balance.
‘Can you check and tell me if you can feel the umbilical cord?’ He smiled sympathetically at her and suddenly it was OK. They were a team working together to help save a baby—her baby.
With difficulty she knelt on the soft leather seat, closed her eyes mortified as a rivulet of pink fluid disappeared down the back of the seat, and hitched up the wet satin creation designed by a leading Sydney fashion house.
That morning, when she’d struggled with clipping her thigh-high stockings to the garter belt, she’d thought it a shame no one would see the pretty lace of the belt. What a joke. Once she got to the hospital, everyone would be looking at her.
As she slipped her hand down into her panties she knew what she would find—she could feel it beating like her own heartbeat except slower. Sure enough, a loop of umbilical cord fell into her hand.
Before she could confirm her finding to Max, the next contraction was on top of her and with this pain the urge to push was overpowering. It couldn’t happen this quick! They were supposed to stop the labour until they could get her to operating theatre and do a Caesarean section to save her baby.
‘Ma-ax,’ she wailed and she grabbed his hand, put her chin on her chest and pushed, unable to stop herself.
Still calm, his voice was kind. ‘There’s no time for modesty. You know that, don’t you, Georgia? Let me see.’
Max’s face was composed but in that moment she saw the stressed beat of the vein in his temple and she knew he doubted her baby’s chances despite his calm voice.
The look of surprise on his face made a tiny shaft of hope slice through the pain to imprint on Georgia’s thoughts.
‘First baby?’ His eyes met hers in question.
‘Absolutely. Probably last,’ she gasped.
He smiled at that and sat back. ‘Well, your baby is ready to come and is almost here. Let nature finish the job, Georgia.’
That was all she needed to find the rest of her strength and with the next pain fast on the heels of the last she concentrated from deep within herself and willed her baby to fly out into the world before the lack of oxygen from the compression of the cord could take away her life.
When she opened her eyes Max was unwinding the cord from around the baby’s neck and lifting her towards Georgia, and incredibly a miniature angry red face screwed up to emit a bellow that almost lifted the roof off the car.
Max laughed and she blinked and looked again at this tiny roaring child of immense determination and began to shake in shock.
‘My God.’ Max wiped his eyes on his upper arm and then grabbed his suit jacket and rubbed her baby dry before he leant forward to slip the bodice strap off Georgia’s shoulder to allow one side of her dress to fall to expose her skin. ‘Here, keep her warm.’
Still chuckling, he placed the baby against Georgia’s bare skin, flipped the jacket over to the dry side and tucked it around them both.
‘Congratulations,’ he said, and shook his head in disbelief. ‘I’m afraid her father missed her arrival.’
Georgia shuddered. ‘We didn’t miss him.’ Her baby was still slightly wet and slippery and still roaring her head off and Georgia soothed her little round head that hadn’t even had time to change shape for the journey through her pelvis.
‘Poor baby.’ She ducked her head and kissed her downy cheek. ‘Do you have a headache from your quick trip?’
Max listened to the soft maternal whispers from a woman he barely knew and felt incredibly touched by a scene he’d seen so many times in so many circumstances—but never like this.
‘I think you might be right about her headache.’ Max shook his head again and the smile on his face felt bigger than any he’d had in the last few years. This birth brought back the notion that there could still be immense satisfaction in his chosen profession.
He’d known he needed to get back to the grass roots of it all and away from the consultancy, and board meetings, the constant demand for more hightech medical apparatus and the financial headaches and heartaches that being head of the obstetric department left him with.
This new position promised exposure to the real world of obstetrics again. While a percentage of his duties would remain administrative, there was an expectation he would work in each hospital to gain insight into the obstetric viability of each facility.
If he was honest, that was the carrot that had got him into this marriage mess in the first place. This moment in time had proved how much more re-warding hands-on obstetrics was for him but he’d have time to think of that later.
Georgia’s baby finally quietened and after a quick glance to ensure all was well he suggested to his driver that he slow the car to a reasonable pace as they finished the forty-minute drive to the hospital.
This Georgia, she was something special to have come through this with a calmness and serenity that should have been shattered, especially as, being a midwife, she’d known the complications that could ensue.
Unexpectedly the loud sound of rhythmic sucking could be heard and Max felt the smile widen on his face again.
‘Umm. Isn’t breastfeeding supposed to be noiseless or does this child of yours do everything spectacularly and with high volume?’
‘I think she’s loud. I should call her Thor—or Thoreen.’
‘Speaking of “thor”, are you?’
‘Very funny.’ She shook her head at him and for the first time in many years he felt like a child rebuked by an adult and his lips twitched.
She got over it quickly, though. ‘Now you mention it, what are we going to do with the disaster down here ruining your upholstery? I don’t suppose you have two cord clamps and a pair of scissors?’
He stripped off his elegant neckpiece. ‘I do have a cord tie.’
She giggled and then covered her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I’m feeling light-headed with relief and I’m being silly.’
He pulled a snowy white teatowel from the bottle compartment and folded it. ‘Pop this between your legs.’ He handed the towel to her. ‘Let’s just settle for that one knot in the cord with the tie and we’ll bundle it all up still connected and they can sort it out at the hospital. Are you bleeding?’
She shook her head. ‘Not since she started to feed.’
He marvelled at the wonders of nature without the usual drugs given at the end of labour. ‘Thor looks about five pounds. How