The Prince And The Midwife. Robin Gianna
CHAPTER SIX
GABRIELLA CAIN ABSENTLY raked her fingers through her hair and stared at the messy room, fighting the deep fatigue that crept quietly into every aching muscle. Her second double shift of the week might be officially over, but as the labor suite department head she wasn’t about to leave the disarray for the next midwife to clean up.
Thinking about the twins she’d just delivered to a Hollywood actress and the new mother’s proud, beaming husband gave her an energy boost. The suite was a mess for a great reason—the birth of two healthy newborns. After all, just like a kitchen that was never cooked in stayed clean, a spic-and-span labor and delivery suite would mean no new little babies, and wouldn’t that be a sad thing?
Gabby finished putting new sheets on the bed, wishing her own at home were as nice as the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets The Hollywood Hills Clinic provided for its demanding patients, then topped it off with a fresh down blanket. The room was strewn with the various supplies she’d just used, and she figured it made sense to clean that up last so she could note what inventory she might be running low on and get them ordered tomorrow.
She folded clean blankets and stacked them inside the toasty warming cupboard. Crouching down to finally gather the things on the floor, the sound of the double swinging doors banging open and a gurney being hurriedly wheeled into the room had her pausing in surprise. The other, even more alarming sounds? A woman’s moans and the receptionist shouting her name.
“Gabby? Gabby! Are you in here?” Stephanie called.
“I’m here.” She stood and stared in dismay when she saw it was Cameron Fontaine lying on the gurney being steered by the hospital’s uniformed EMTs, who had doubtless brought her here by helicopter. The famous A-list actress, who was one of Gabby’s most difficult patients, and whose baby wasn’t due for months. “Cameron? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I think the baby’s coming. It’s way too soon, though, isn’t it? Oh, God, I’m so scared.” She jabbed her index finger toward Gabby, her blue eyes somehow wide with fear and imperiously demanding at the same time. “You’ve got to do something!”
Gabby’s stomach plunged. Yes. It was too soon, and she sent up a deep prayer that Cameron wasn’t in labor. That her baby would be fine. That her infant would be born healthy and alive. Her hands suddenly cold, she rushed over to wrap her fingers around Cameron’s. “All right. Try to relax. Let’s get you into the bed and see what’s going on, okay?”
“Just get it stopped! The baby has to cook in there a little longer, right?”
Somehow, Gabby forced a smile, wishing it were that easy. “I believe the proverbial bun in the oven actually bakes, not cooks,” she said lightly, proud that she’d managed to keep her tone joking and relaxed. “Let’s see what we can do to make sure she gets to rise a little longer, hmm? Try not to worry until we learn more. Maybe baby is just in a mood, wanting a little attention?” She hoped that was the case, and resisted adding that would mean the infant was a chip off the old block.
Cameron’s hand squeezed hers tightly, and Gabby frowned when she realized the woman’s breath seemed short and gasping as the EMTs carefully moved her to the bed. Thirty-two weeks along was definitely not the optimal time for a baby to decide to come into the world.
“Stephanie, get in touch with whichever OB’s on call and get them here, please.”
Stephanie gave a nod and ran out, and Gabby barely noticed the EMTs leaving too as she grabbed the blood-pressure cuff. “I’m going to get your vital signs, then do an internal exam, okay?”
“Will you be able to tell if the baby’s coming?”
“If you’re dilating, yes. Tell me why you think you might be in labor. Are you in pain?”
“Not...not exactly pain.” Cameron’s hands cupped her belly and her face scrunched up in an unflattering expression Gabby was sure hadn’t been seen on any movie screens by the actress’s many fans, which proved how distressed she was. “I felt a little crampy, kind of like the Braxton-Hicks contractions you talked to me about. And my belly got sort of hard, and when it didn’t go away I knew I had to do something right away and called the clinic.”
“You did exactly the right thing, calling for the helicopter to come get you.”
“Well, it seemed to take them forever!” She swiped her elegantly manicured hand across her frowning brow. “It was at least five minutes longer than when they came to get me after I hit my head, and every second that passed I got more worried. I called three times, and I think that made them finally hurry.”
A smile touched Gabby’s lips, as it was pretty easy to imagine how those conversations had gone. “Let’s see how baby is doing, all right?”
Gabby pressed her stethoscope to Cameron’s belly, and the sound of the baby’s steady heartbeat sent the breath she was holding right out of her lungs. Thank God, baby was still alive and moving. She snapped on exam gloves and what she found during the examination was a mixed blessing. “The good news is that your membranes are still intact, so no rupture there. Which means your labor’s not advanced, which is also good news. But your cervix is dilated two centimeters, so we’re going to have to do something about that.”
“Like what? And what do you mean, labor’s not advancing? Dilating means labor, right?”
Cameron’s voice had gone a little shrill, and who could blame her? Gabby knew she had to help her stay calm—the situation was scary, yes, but with luck it could be managed. “Dilation means early labor, yes, but it can be slowed or sometimes completely stopped with medication. I’m going to get an IV set up to give you a mag sulfate drip right away, and also keep you hydrated with saline and lots of water to drink. We’ll do a urinalysis to make sure there’s no infection, just to be safe. Then we’ll give you steroid injections to help baby’s lungs develop in case she decides she just can’t wait to get here. Please, try not to worry, okay? We’ll be doing all we can to keep her healthy.”
“I want to see Dr. Crane. When is she coming?”
Gabby had learned long ago to not be insulted by that demand, which she got from a lot of patients and their husbands. And when it came right down to it, she wanted the obstetrician to get there, too, in case the situation got worse instead of better. “I’ll find out.” She patted Cameron’s shoulder and smiled. “Try to relax. Easy to say, I know, but you don’t want your blood pressure all out of whack and make things tougher for baby, do you?”
“Could