still here. Why is everyone acting like we’re about to go up in smoke before tomorrow? Why do I need to stay in bed?’
‘Because we need your baby to stay exactly where she is,’ Oliver told her, coming further into the room. He had a bag under his arm and Ruby eyed it with suspicion. ‘Right now she’s in the perfect position to operate on her spine, and, no, Ruby, there’s not a single thing in this bag that will prod, poke or pry. But I would like to feel your baby for myself.’
Ruby sighed with a theatrical flourish and tugged up her nightie.
‘Go ahead. Half the world already has.’
‘Has she moved?’
‘Nah.’ She gave a sheepish grin. ‘I feel her myself. I’m not stupid, you know.’ And she popped her hand on her tummy and cradled it.
There was that gesture again. Protective. ‘Mine.’
Oliver sat down on the bed and felt the rounded bump himself, and Em looked at the way he was examining the baby and thought this was a skill. Ruby had been poked and prodded until she was tired of it. Oliver was doing the same thing but very gently, as if he was cradling Ruby’s unborn child.
‘She’s perfect,’ he said at last, tugging Ruby’s nightie back down. ‘Like her mother.’
‘She’s not perfect. That’s why I’m here.’
‘She’s pretty much perfect. Would you like to see a slide show of what we’re about to do?’ He grinned at Ruby’s scared expression. ‘There’s not many gory bits and I can fast-forward through them.’
‘I’ll shut my eyes,’ Ruby said, but he’d caught her, Em thought. She wasn’t dissociated from this baby. Once again she saw Ruby’s hand move surreptitiously to her tummy.
He flicked open his laptop. Fascinated, Em perched on the far side of the bed and watched, too.
‘This is one we prepared earlier,’ Oliver said, in the tone TV cooks used as they pulled a perfect bake from the oven. ‘This is Rufus. He’s six months old now, a lovely, healthy baby, but at the start of this he was still inside his mum, a twenty-two-weeker. This is the procedure your little one will have.’
The screen opened to an operating theatre, the patient’s face hidden, the film obviously taken for teaching purposes as identities weren’t shown. But the sound was on, and Em could hear Oliver’s voice, calmly directive, and she knew that it was Oliver who was in charge.
She was fascinated—and so was Ruby. Squeamishness was forgotten. They watched in awe as the scalpel carefully, carefully negotiated the layers between the outside world and the baby within. It would be an intricate balance, Em knew, trying to give the baby minimal exposure to the outside world, keeping infection out, disturbing the baby as little as possible yet giving the surgeons space to work.
There were many doctors present—she could hear their voices. This was cutting-edge surgery.
‘I can see its back,’ Ruby breathed. ‘Oh … is that the same as my baby?’
‘They’re all different,’ Oliver said. ‘Your daughter is tilted at a better angle.’
‘Oh …’ Ruby’s eyes weren’t leaving the screen.
They could definitely see the baby now, and they could see how the baby was slightly tilted to the side. Carefully, carefully Oliver manoeuvred him within the uterus, making no sudden movements, making sure the move was no more dramatic than if the baby himself had wriggled.
And now they could see the spine exposed. The telltale bulge …
‘Is that the problem? The same as mine?’ Ruby whispered, and Oliver nodded.
‘Rufus’s problem was slightly lower, but it’s very similar.’
Silence again. They were totally focused, all of them. Oliver must have seen this many times before, Em thought—and he’d been there in person—but he was still watching it as if it was a miracle.
It was a miracle.
‘This is where I step back and let the neurosurgeon take over,’ Oliver said. ‘My job is to take care of the whole package, you and your baby, but Dr Zigler will be doing this bit. He’s the best, Ruby. You’re in the best of hands.’
They watched on. The surgery was painstaking. It was like microsurgery, Em thought, where fingers were reattached, where surgeons fought hard to save nerves. And in a way it was. They were carefully working around and then through the bulge. There’d be so many things to work around. The spinal cord was so fragile, so tiny. The task was to repair the damage already done, as far as possible, and then close, protecting the cord and peripheral nerves from the amniotic fluid until the baby was born.
‘Is … is it hurting?’ Ruby breathed, as the first incision was made into the tiny back.
‘Is he hurting? No. Rufus is anaesthetised, as well as his mum. Did you see the anaesthetist working as soon as we had exposure? The jury’s out on whether unborn babies can feel pain. There are those who say they’re in a state similar to an induced coma, but they certainly react to a painful touch. It makes the procedure a little more risky—balancing anaesthetic with what he’s receiving via his mum’s blood supply—but the last thing we want is to stress him. Luckily the Victoria has some of the best anaesthetists in the world. Vera Harty will be doing your anaesthetic and your daughter’s. I’d trust her with a baby of my own.’
Ruby was satisfied. She went back to watching the screen.
Em watched, too, but Oliver’s last statement kept reverberating.
I’d trust her with a baby of my own.
The sadness was flooding back. Oliver had been unable to have a baby of his own—because of her. She had fertility problems, not Oliver.
He’d left her years ago. He could have found someone by now.
Maybe he had. Maybe he just wasn’t saying.
But he hadn’t. She knew him well, this man.
There’d been an undercurrent of longing in the statement.
They’d both wanted children. She’d released him so he could have them. Why hadn’t he moved on?
Watch the screen, she told herself. Some things were none of her business. Oliver was none of her business—except he was the obstetrician treating her patient.
She went back to being professional—sort of. She went back to watching Rufus, as Oliver and Ruby were doing.
The procedure was delicate and it took time but it seemed Oliver was in no hurry to finish watching, and neither was Ruby. Em couldn’t be, either. Her job was to keep Ruby calm for tomorrow’s operation, and that’s what was happening now. The more familiar the girl was about what lay ahead, the more relaxed she’d be.
And not for the first time, Em blessed this place, this job. The Victoria considered its midwives some of the most important members of its staff. The mothers’ needs came first and if a mum needed her midwife then Isla would
