responsibility for making the right choice here.
‘The cord’s pulsatile,’ she told him. ‘And Claire’s fully dilated.’
Aiden nodded. If they were in hospital right now, an assisted delivery with forceps would be the fastest and safest way to get this baby out. With Sophia using two fingers to push on the baby’s head, the cord was being protected and the blood and oxygen supply was still adequate. She knew what she was doing, this midwife. Intelligent-looking woman, in fact, which probably explained the anxiety he could see in her eyes. She had to know exactly how dangerous this situation was for the baby.
Her hand was probably already aching, although Aiden couldn’t detect any signs of discomfort. Could she keep this up until they arrived at the hospital? The other option was not to slow down a natural delivery but to try and speed it up. To get the baby out fast enough to avoid potentially devastating complications from lack of oxygen. She was still looking at him and he got the feeling she was following his train of thought.
‘She’s also exhausted,’ she added. ‘Labour’s been a bit protracted. That was why I called for an ambulance in the first place. I’m not sure …’ Sophia bit her lip as her words trailed to an inaudible whisper. She hated feeling indecisive and it rarely happened, but a baby’s life was at stake here and there was another option. But if they encouraged Claire to push and she was too tired to be effective, they would have to wait for another contraction and they could end up in a much worse position, with the baby’s head cutting off any oxygen supply. The baby could end up with severe brain damage. Or it could die.
The weighing-up process was lightning fast but agonising. Sophia found she was holding the gaze of the paramedic. Light brown eyes, a part of her brain noted. Unusual. It was a calm gaze but it was intelligent. He knew what the issues were. It was also confident. Crinkles appeared near the corners, like a smile that didn’t involve a mouth. There was a good chance they could pull this off.
It was Aiden who broke the eye contact. He crouched beside the bed so that he could look up at Claire who had her forehead resting on clenched fists.
‘How tired are you, Claire?’ he asked.
‘She’s stuffed, mate.’ It was Greg who responded. ‘We never thought it was going to be this hard, you know?’
But Aiden didn’t seem to be listening. He was holding Claire’s frightened gaze now.
‘The best thing for your baby is going to be getting born as fast as possible,’ he said. ‘And we can help but you’re going to have to do most of the work. Do you think you could do that?’
‘I want to push,’ Claire said with a sob. ‘But I’m scared.’
‘We’re here with you. How ’bout we give it our best shot with the next contraction?’
‘O-okay. I’ll try.’
‘Good girl.’ He was smiling at Claire now and the mix of approval and confidence in his voice was compelling. Sophia could have felt defensive about having someone else make that decision for her, but instead she was as ready as Claire to put every effort into making this work. She believed it was the right decision. It would work.
Who was this knight in shining armour who’d ridden up on a motorbike instead of a horse just as things were turning to custard? This paramedic with his warm brown eyes and streaked, golden-blond hair that made him look like a surfer.
When the next contraction was due a couple of minutes later, they turned Claire onto her back again and Sophia released the pressure holding the baby’s head away from the cervix and the cord. The clock was ticking from that moment on and the three of them, Aiden, Sophia and even Greg—who couldn’t help but catch the urgency—coached Claire into giving everything she had. And then a bit more.
‘You can do it,’ Aiden told her firmly. ‘Push, push, push. Keep going. Push.’
‘Crowning,’ Sophia confirmed. ‘Keep going, Claire.’
‘You’re doing great,’ Aiden continued. ‘But don’t stop. We can’t wait for another contraction. This is it. Push …’
‘Can’t …’ The groan was agonised.
‘Yes, you can. You are doing it. You’re awesome … One more push, that’s all we need.’
Good grief, this man had the most amazing voice. Sophia could feel her own abdominal muscles clenching. She wanted to push—how ridiculous was that?
‘Oh, my God …’ Greg’s voice was choked. ‘I can see him, Claire. Our baby.’
Sophia could see him, too. Could touch and help him into the world, but she’d lost track of how many minutes it had taken since the blood and oxygen supply had been cut off by the pressure of the baby’s head and body on the prolapsed umbilical cord.
The baby was limp and blue. It looked lifeless.
Her heart sank like a stone. This had been the wrong decision, then, to let imminent labour progress instead of stalling it and trying to get Claire to hospital before she delivered. This was her patient and her responsibility. How could she have allowed this man she’d never even met before to come in and take charge the way he had? It would be unthinkable to lose a baby like this.
But the motorbike-riding paramedic was by her side, with a kit unrolled and resuscitation gear at the ready and she hadn’t yet lost faith in the calm confidence he displayed.
A tiny bag mask to deliver oxygen. Fingers that looked so large against a fragile chest delivering compressions that were gentle but effective.
‘Come on, little guy. You can do it. You’re gonna be fine …’
The words sounded incongruously casual but Sophia could see the intense concentration in the paramedic’s eyes. The fierce determination to save a tiny life.
And there was movement. A gasp as lungs expanded for the first time. A warbling cry. Skin colour that was changing from a deathly blue to a much healthier pink. Arms and legs beginning to stir.
‘Hey … welcome back, little guy.’ Aiden’s hands cupped the baby to gently lift and place the newborn boy against his mother’s skin. Both Claire and Greg had tears streaming down their faces. There was an overpowering sense of both relief and joy but fear hadn’t been banished yet.
Sophia was watching anxiously. With the level of resuscitation needed, the baby would have still been under intense monitoring in a clinical setting, not being held and touched like this by his parents.
And then Aiden’s gaze shifted away from the infant.
‘Apgar score nine at five minutes,’ he murmured. She could swear there was a ghost of a wink accompanying the report. He knew how anxious she was and he wanted her to know that he was still doing his job—that the baby was being carefully monitored. Sure enough, she could see him resting a finger lightly on the baby’s upper arm, taking a brachial pulse. She could stop worrying and focus on Claire. She could deal with the delivery of the placenta and check for any tissue damage.
The emergency was over, almost as quickly as it had appeared.
The ambulance would be arriving within minutes and then they’d have the bustle
