too big a loop, so we just have to keep the pressure off. I’m going to scrub.’
The room had been filling up while they talked, people responding to the crash call, and he turned to his SHO. ‘Get a line in, please, and give her oxygen, and terbutaline to slow the contractions if we can. Cross-match for two units as well, please. I’ll see you in Theatre, Liz. Don’t worry, we’ll soon have your baby out.’
He squeezed her partner’s shoulder on the way out, and Molly thought how like him that was, sparing a thought for the shocked young man standing paralysed on the sidelines, even in such a chaotic moment. He’d always seemed to have time for things others often overlooked.
Within a very few minutes Liz was on her way to Theatre, Molly’s gloved hand firmly pushing the baby’s head back away from her cervix, keeping the pressure off the cord to prevent the baby dying from lack of oxygen.
They didn’t have much time, but as long as she could keep that cord pulsating, the baby stood a good chance of coming through this unharmed.
Sam was waiting, and he wasted no time in opening Liz up once she was under the anaesthetic. Her partner, David, was hovering outside Theatre and had looked scared to death, but Molly didn’t really have time to worry about him.
All her attention was on holding that baby’s head back, during the shift across to the operating table, positioning Liz ready for surgery with the head of the table tilted downwards, and trying desperately to ignore the cramp in her arm and back from the awkward position she was in.
Finally she felt the pressure ease, and looked up to meet Sam’s eyes as he lifted the baby clear and handed it to the waiting nurse.
‘It’s a boy,’ he told Molly, throwing a quick smile in her direction before returning his attention to Liz. ‘Time of birth fifteen twenty-seven. He’s all yours, Molly.’
She straightened and flexed her shoulders, then, after clamping and cutting the cord, she took the baby immediately over to the waiting crib and sucked out his airways. His cry, weak and intermittent until that point, changed pitch with indignation and turned into a full-blown bellow, and she felt the tension in the room ease.
‘Apgar score nine at one minute,’ she said, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. She’d check again at fifteen thirty-two, by which time she was sure the slight blueness of his skin would have gone and he would score a perfect ten.
Relief made her almost light-headed, and she smiled down at the screaming baby, his colour improving and turning pink as she watched. His heartbeat was strong, his cry once he’d got going was good and loud, and his muscle tone and response to suction had been excellent.
It was a pity things had gone wrong so Liz had missed his birth, she thought, wrapping him up in heated towels and taking him out of the Theatre to David, but trying for a normal delivery would have been too risky. She’d known doctors who would have taken the risk, others who would have gone for the section without a second thought regardless of the circumstances.
Sam, thank God, didn’t seem to fall into either of those categories. He’d rapidly weighed up both options in the light of his examination, and had made what she felt had been the right decision. She felt able to trust his judgement—and that was a relief, as she was going to have to work with him.
She pictured his eyes again over the mask when he’d smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She’d always loved that about him, the way he smiled with his eyes…
‘Is everything all right?’ David asked, and she nodded, putting the baby in his slightly tense arms.
‘So far, so good. I’ve done a quick check and all the obvious bits are present and correct, and Liz is doing really well.’ She smiled up at David, but he didn’t notice. He was staring down in frank amazement at his son.
‘We’ve got a baby,’ he said, his voice faintly incredulous. Lifting his free hand, he stroked one finger gently down the baby’s translucent, downy cheek, still streaked with blood and vernix. The little head turned towards the finger, his rosebud mouth pursing, and Molly smiled, an all-too-familiar lump in her throat.
‘He’s hungry. She can feed him just as soon as she comes round, but in the meantime he just needs a cuddle from his dad. Just hold him and talk to him for a minute. He’d recognise your voice, he will have heard it from the womb. He’s a bit messy, but we won’t wash him until Liz has woken up and seen him, or it could be anybody’s baby.’
He nodded, and she took him through to Recovery to wait for Liz while she herself went back into Theatre to check on her.
‘Apgar up to ten?’ Sam asked, checking on the baby’s progress even as he worked on Liz.
‘Yes—he’s fine now. His colour was a bit off, but it’s not surprising.’
‘You did a good job,’ Sam said softly to her, and she felt her skin warm.
‘You aren’t making too big a fist of it yourself,’ she said with a smile, and he chuckled quietly under his breath.
‘You’re too kind. The placenta’s there, by the way.’
She studied it carefully, making sure no parts of it were missing and likely to cause the mother future problems, and nodded. ‘It’s OK.’
‘Good. Now, could you do me a favour, Molly, if you’re happy with the baby? Can you phone down to A and E and ask about the young woman who was brought in a couple of hours ago—query pregnant, no ID, unconscious in the car?’
‘Sure.’
She used the theatre phone, and discovered that the woman had regained consciousness and discharged herself.
Sam frowned, his brows drawing together in disapproval. ‘Did they scan her?’
She shook her head. ‘Not that they said. She came round just after you left her, and wouldn’t stay another minute. The police think she’d stolen the car, apparently.’
‘How bizarre. Oh, well.’ He shrugged and carried on with closing Liz while Molly checked the baby again. He was snuggled in his father’s arms, blissfully asleep now, and, judging by the look on David’s face, he wasn’t the only one feeling blissful.
Through the glass she saw Sam straighten up and flex his shoulders. He said something and the anaesthetist nodded, and he stepped back, handing Liz over to the anaesthetic team. Stripping off his gloves and mask, he came out to join them.
‘All done, and she’s fine. She’ll be with us in a minute.’ Looking down at the baby, he ran a finger lightly over the back of his tiny hand.
‘Hello, little fellow,’ he said softly. ‘Has he got a name?’
‘I don’t know. Lucy.’
Sam met David’s eyes and smiled. ‘That may not be appropriate, under the circumstances.’
David chuckled, his shoulders dropping with the easing of tension. ‘Perhaps we’d better think again. I don’t know, we were sure she was having a girl. Something about the heartbeat, Liz said. Probably an old wives’ tale.’ He pulled a face and swallowed hard. ‘Um—thanks, by the way. I’m really grateful to you all for getting him out safely. Liz would have been gutted—’
