A Taste Of Italy. Fiona McArthur
‘That will help,’ she murmured. This time when they connected the oxygen to the ET tube she slid down his throat, his little chest rose and fell and his skin quickly became pink all over.
‘Heart rate one hundred,’ Misty said when she ceased the chest compressions to count, and they all stood back as the baby began to flex, wince and finally attempted to cry around the tube in his throat.
‘I love the way all babies wish to live,’ Leon murmured. ‘It is their strength.’ He nodded at Tammy and gestured with his hand. ‘Slide the tube out. He doesn’t need it now.’ He felt the pride of her accomplishment expand in his chest and smiled at her as the little boy began to wail his displeasure. ‘Well done.’ He nodded his approval of her skill. ‘How did that feel?’
Tammy’s voice had the slightest tremor that matched the one in her fingers now it was all over. ‘Better now I’ve done it again. Thanks.’
Misty lifted the crying babe and carried him back to his mother, who sat rigidly up in the bed with her empty arms outstretched to take him.
Tears ran down her face and even her husband wiped his eyes as their baby cried and the mountain of fear gradually faded from their eyes like dye from new denim.
‘Don’t do that to Mummy, Pip,’ the dad said as his wife’s arms closed over her baby and she hugged him to her chest. Her husband’s arms came around them both and their heads meshed together in solidarity. The baby blinked and finally settled to squint at his parents through swollen eyelids.
The dad looked across at Misty. ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he, Misty?’
‘He’s good, Trent.’ She glanced at Tammy and Leon to include them. ‘A clot of blood was stuck in his throat. We’ll watch him for the next twenty-four hours but Pip responded well once the airway was clear. No reason to think otherwise.’
‘That was terrifying,’ the mother said with a catch in her voice.
Leon smiled. ‘Yes. Always. Of course this is the beginning of many frights this child will give you.’ He smiled again. ‘I know. I have a son.’ He bent and listened with the stethoscope to the baby’s little chest. ‘Your son sounds strong and healthy, and obviously he was born under a lucky star.’
His mother shivered. ‘How’s that lucky?’
‘A true knot in the umbilical cord is dicing with danger. The knot could have pulled tight much earlier when there was nothing we could do but he waited until it was safe to do so. And in such a good place as this.’
Misty and Tammy smiled and the parents looked at each other as if to say, Thank goodness we have a clever child.
‘If you excuse me, I’ll leave you to enjoy your family.’ He leaned across and shook the father’s hand, nodded at the mother and smiled at Misty.
‘I’m ready to come with you,’ Tammy said as she glanced at Misty for confirmation.
‘Go. I’m fine. Thanks again. Both of you.’
They left, shutting the door behind them, and when they reached the outside, Tammy inhaled the night air deep into her lungs and let it out as if her very breath had been hung with lead weights. ‘I hate that floppiness in a compromised infant.’ She shuddered with relief.
He could see that. Clearly. ‘Of course. Everyone does. You did well,’ Leon said quietly at her shoulder, and to his surprise he realised she was wiping at tears. Instinctively he pulled her gently into his chest and held her safe against him with her nose buried in his shirt. This time only for comfort and he was surprised how good it felt to be able to offer this.
But Tamara in his arms was becoming a habit. She felt warm and soft and incredibly precious within his embrace and the fragrance of her filled his head. His hand lifted and stroked her hair, hair like the softest silk, and the bones of her skull under his fingers already seemed familiar. He accepted he would find her scent on his skin when she was gone. Like last night. And the night before. And the night before that. The thought was bittersweet. ‘You did beautifully.’
Her head denied his approval and her voice was muffled by his shirt. ‘I should have done it earlier.’
‘You could not know there was an obstruction there. To decide to intubate is no easy decision. And the time frame was perfect because he was well per-fused while the decision was made.’
She unburrowed her head from his chest. Obviously she’d just realised she was in his arms again and wondering how that happened. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips.
‘This is becoming a bit of a habit.’ She said it before he could.
‘Hmm. So it is.’ He could hear the smile in his voice as she stepped back.
‘I’ll be more confident next time.’ There was no amusement to spare in hers. His arms felt empty, like the mother must have felt before she was given her baby, but he felt anything but maternal towards Tamara. Probably better that she stepped away because his thoughts had turned from mutual comfort to mutual excitement in a less public place.
He forced himself to concentrate on her concerns. ‘Do not disparage yourself. I’m impressed. Intubation is a skill that not all midwives have and very useful for unexpected moments. It was very brave of you to conquer your fears.’
She straightened and met his eyes. ‘I felt better once I knew you were there as backup.’
He was glad he could help. The streetlight illuminated the delicate planes of her face, the shadows lengthened her already ridiculously long neck and his fingers tensed inside his pocket where he’d sent them to hide because he itched to cup her jaw. Already his mouth could imagine the taste of her, the glide of his mouth along that curve that beckoned like a siren, but a siren unaware of her power. He drew a low breath and looked away. ‘I’m glad I was there.’
‘So am I.’ He felt she avoided his eyes this time and maybe it was better. ‘I should get home to Dad and Jack. They’ll be worried.’
He wasn’t sure either of them would be worried but he could tell she was uncomfortable and maybe a little aware of the danger she was in. Her night had been stressful enough without him adding pressure. ‘And I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Tamara.’ He wouldn’t.
‘Tammy,’ she corrected automatically. And then she smiled. ‘Goodnight, Leonardo.’ He liked the sound of his name on her lips.
The next afternoon Tammy and Misty stood beside Pip’s wheeled cot and stared down at him as he slept. ‘Lucky little guy.’
Misty shook her head. ‘It’s always when you least expect it. The labour was perfect, Pip’s heart rate all the way was great, and then I just started to feel bad, edgy for no reason, and I had to call you.’
Tammy gave a quick squeeze of her stepmother’s arm for comfort. ‘Your instinct has always been terrific.’
Misty rolled her eyes. ‘I did wonder if Trina’s birth from the night before had given me the willies and I was losing my nerve. You know, doubting myself by wanting to call you.’ She looked at Tammy. ‘You were great. I’m really pleased you came.’
‘Your turn to intubate next time. I’m pleased that Leon came as well. I know that if we do what we did, just keeping the oxygen and circulation going until they recover, we’re going to be fine. I know babies want to live.’
They stared down at Pip and Tammy went on. Voicing what they both knew. ‘The horrible thing is that every now and then, for their own reasons, babies don’t do what we expect. On that day I want to know we did everything we could. Maybe we could ask Leon about the latest resuscitation techniques before he leaves?’
Misty nodded. ‘I think everyone would be interested in a discussion and the practise too. I know your father would. We need to include it more, like we practise the emergency drills.’
That was the beauty of working