temperature stability.’ Her smile became reassuring rather than amused. ‘I know she looks tiny and fragile and that her arrival was a bit unexpected…’
‘You have no idea,’ Max murmured.
‘And I know you’re worried about Ellie,’ she continued, ‘but this is a way to help everybody, including—maybe especially—yourself.’
‘Oh?’ Max was listening now. He needed to help himself. Fast. ‘How, exactly?’
‘You’ll be doing what Ellie can’t do at the moment, which is caring for her baby. You could well make a big difference medically for this little one.’ She was watching him and a tiny frown line appeared. ‘If you’re really not comfortable, then I can get one of the nursing staff to do it, but it’s far better if it’s a parent. It can be a way of bonding that could make all the difference to the stress of the next few days.’
Max had the sensation of being trapped in a kind of glass box. He was being watched. By the paediatrician and her registrar. By the nurse who was hovering near the crib. Even by other nurses in this unit as they went about their own tasks. They all seemed to have paused right now to hold their breath and see what he was going to do.
They all believed that he was this baby’s father and what kind of a father wouldn’t want to do something that might help his kid? If it became obvious that he had no need—or, let’s face it, desire—to bond with this infant, people might start asking questions. Gossiping at the very least, and the less any of this was talked about the better. For Ellie’s sake.
Which was how all this had started, wasn’t it?
He really would have to be more careful next time, he decided with a wry inward smile as he found himself nodding and then being guided to the comfortable armchair rolled into this corner of the PICU.
A nurse took the layers away from the baby. They left her with a nappy and her hat on, an oxygen saturation monitor clipped to a minuscule toe and some unobtrusive sticky dots and soft wires that connected her to a cardiac monitor. She was mostly naked, Max noted with some alarm. Small and pink and awkward-looking, with stick-like arms and legs.
‘Keep her prone and upright,’ the paediatrician advised. ‘The nurses will keep an eye on you both and levels are set for an alarm to go off if the oxygen levels or cardiac rhythm need interventions.’
Max had sacrificed the neck of his T-shirt so that he didn’t need to discard any of his own clothing. The vertical cut allowed him to fold the neckline down so that the baby’s face would be uncovered. He heard the whimper of the baby as she was picked up.
Good grief…he really didn’t want to do this. Was it too late to back out?
An alarm began to sound. A slow bell that pinged ominously. Maybe the baby didn’t like the idea, either. Her heart rhythm was jumping erratically.
‘Does she need to go back in the crib?’ Max tried not to sound too hopeful.
‘Let’s see how we go for a minute or two.’
With an inward sigh, Max held up the bottom of his old, soft T-shirt while a nurse positioned the baby and then covered her. A layer of the leather jacket came next and then she helped him put his arm in the right place for support. He felt awkward. Uncomfortable.
He could feel the baby wriggle against his chest, moving tiny limbs as if in protest. He could feel the miniature chest heaving as she attempted to breathe and cry at the same time but the effort seemed exhausting and the movements diminished.
Max took a cautious glance downwards and found the baby’s eyes were open. So dark they looked black and they were fixed on him. He took a deep, careful breath and let it out very slowly.
‘Look at that.’ The paediatrician sounded delighted. ‘Heart rate’s coming up and it’s steady.’
They waited another minute as Max sat as still as humanly possible.
‘Looking good,’ came the expert verdict. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Max.’
‘Ah…’ He watched as staff began to disperse. To stop watching, even, from all over the unit. Any second now and he would be virtually on his own. ‘How long should I stay here?’
‘The longer the better,’ a nurse said cheerfully. ‘As long as you can, anyway.’
Max tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed. In and out. He could feel the baby breathing. In that first long, quiet minute of being left to himself he could even feel the baby’s heart beating. A soft, rapid ticking against his chest. Almost on top of his own heart.
Weird.
He opened his eyes and tilted his chin so he could look down again.
The baby was still awake. Still watching him with a curiously intent gaze that managed to look utterly bewildered at the same time.
‘Mmm,’ Max murmured sympathetically. ‘I know just how you feel. But don’t worry. We’ll get it all sorted out in no time.’
‘Whoa! What are you doing?’
‘Oh, man…’
Rick, closely followed by Jet, had come into a now dimly lit PICU to find Max still in the armchair, with a tiny baby nestled on his chest beneath his leather jacket.
‘Shh…don’t wake her up.’
Rick’s eyebrows were sky high. ‘I bumped into Jet as he was coming out of the big people ICU,’ he said in a stage whisper. ‘Thought I’d come and say hi and…’ His grin widened. ‘I’m sure glad I did. Wouldn’t have missed this for quids. What are you doing?’
‘Being a kangaroo,’ Max muttered. ‘Go away.’
Jet was looking at the monitors. ‘Kid looks stable enough,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you put it back to bed and we’ll go get a coffee or something.’
Max sighed. ‘Because every time I try and put her down she goes into a bradycardia and the oxygen levels drop.’
The nursing staff hadn’t missed the arrival of Max’s friends. More than one of them was finding a task that necessitated getting a lot closer to this extraordinary scene. Three large men and one very small baby.
‘She loves her daddy,’ the closest one said with a smile directed at Rick.
He smiled back. ‘And who wouldn’t?’
The nurse giggled. Max could swear she even batted her eyelashes at Rick. He sighed again.
‘What’s the story, Jet? How’s Ellie doing?’
‘On dialysis,’ Jet said grimly. ‘Renal function hasn’t picked up yet and there’s still some concern about her lungs. They’re going to keep her sedated and on the ventilator, at least overnight.’
‘Prognosis?’
Jet shrugged. ‘She’s hanging in there. Could go either way.’
Max swallowed.
