are no cots. She’ll have to go to St Patrick’s.’
There were voices with no names and she felt dizzy as it dawned on her they were talking about transferring her baby.
‘You’re not taking her to another hospital.’ She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘It’s okay,’ the midwife said. ‘We’ll get you over there as soon as we can.’
‘I want to be with her.’
An IV had been inserted and Beth couldn’t even remember it going in.
‘Her blood pressure is ninety over fifty,’ the midwife called, then spoke to Beth. ‘What’s your normal blood pressure?’
She couldn’t answer.
Beth tried to explain that she’d been told at her checks that her blood pressure was on the low side but she couldn’t remember the numbers and there were little dots swimming before her eyes. Her lips had gone numb.
‘I’m just going to lay you flat,’ the midwife said, and Beth felt her head drop back. ‘Take some deep breaths.’
Again.
The only noise she could hear was the heart monitor on her baby and it sounded fast, though she wasn’t crying now and hadn’t been for a while.
Beth lay there trembling at the shock and the speed of it all.
A man who said he was a neonatologist came and told her that her baby was about to be transferred and that NICU was the best place for her now.
‘Can I go with her?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve got a lot of equipment and staff that will be travelling with her.’
‘I’ll not get in the way. I’ll just sit.’
He didn’t wait to explain further that she was in no fit state to sit.
‘Can I see her?’ Beth asked, but her baby was already being moved out and all she got was a tiny glimpse of red hair and the sight of tubes and machines and then she was gone.
It was very quiet in the cubicle after she left.
Mandy came in with another flask of IV fluid and it was checked with the midwife. ‘I’ve ordered an ambulance for you, Beth. It might be a while, though, they have to deal with emergencies first.’
Thankfully it was only fifteen minutes or so before she was being moved onto a stretcher.
The midwife would escort her and all that was left to do was thank Mandy, who gave her a smile.
‘I’ll ring before I leave in the morning and find out how your baby is doing. Do you have a name for her?’
‘Not yet,’ Beth said.
She’d had a couple in mind. Eloise was one, because it was close to her baby’s father’s name.
Beth could see Elias working away in Resus as she was wheeled past.
She was taken out into the night and loaded into an ambulance where she could hear the controller speaking over the radio.
It was a ten-minute ride through dark streets and soon she was being taken through corridors and then in an elevator up to the maternity ward. As she was wheeled along a corridor she could see signs for the NICU further along and knew her baby was there.
‘How is she doing?’ Beth asked as she was moved onto a bed.
‘As soon as we hear anything, we’ll come and let you know.’
She was told that over and over again.
Beth had never felt more scared and helpless in her life.
Neither had Elias.
At times he had questioned if he was a good doctor or there by default.
He had, of course, had the very best education at a top English boarding school.
And after his time in the military he had studied medicine at Oxford.
Everything had been, his friends had ribbed him at times, handed to him on a plate.
Tonight Elias had found out that he was a doctor.
A real one.
And a very good one at that, because somehow he’d just shoved his personal torment aside.
Delivering a premature infant when it wasn’t your specialty was scary at best.
But delivering that infant when you were sure it was your baby had had his heart racing so fast it had surely matched the baby’s rate at times.
Having then to tear himself away, having to focus on work when everything precious to him was in that room had proved agony.
Yet Elias knew that the neonatologist, even if he received a devastating personal call, would carry on working on the baby until a replacement arrived.
That was the position he had found himself in.
Oh, had Elias declared a personal interest in these two patients then the staff might have understood him stepping back.
But that would have helped no one tonight so he had pushed through as best he could.
His head felt as if it was exploding and he felt sick in his guts as he walked into Resus, where a mother was sobbing as her two-year-old convulsed.
Elias gave that two-year-old his focus.
He administered the right medication and asked all the right questions.
‘He was sick last night when he went to bed,’ the child’s mother said. ‘I thought that it was just a cold...’
‘He has a very high fever,’ Elias told her.
The little boy had stopped convulsing and now lay crying and confused as Elias sat down on the resuscitation bed.
‘Hello,’ he said to the little boy, who was disoriented and fretful. ‘Your mum is here...’ He nodded for her to come around the bed so that the little boy could see her. ‘My name is Elias, I’m a doctor at the hospital...’ And then he said what was important again. ‘Your mum is here.’
And he needed to be over there.
With his baby’s mum.
Yet he thoroughly examined the child, carefully looking at his throat and ears and listening to his chest.
He did what he had to do.
He was peripherally aware that his baby had been transferred because as Valerie came into Resus to get some equipment the doors had opened and he had seen an incubator being wheeled out.
He took some bloods
