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She was quiet for a while, and Callie could see that Rhea’s eyes were filling with tears. Her nose was going red and she was really fighting the urge to cry. All Callie’s instincts told her to reach out and comfort her, to put an arm around her, to show her that someone genuinely cared. But it wouldn’t have been professional to break that boundary— and, besides, she wasn’t comfortable being that person just yet with Rhea. Any show of affection might have the opposite effect and send Rhea running for the hills.
So she sat quietly and waited, her gaze on Rhea’s face.
‘I don’t want it.’ Her voice was quiet and empty of emotion.
‘You don’t?’ This was what she’d suspected.
‘No.’
‘Then there are two options open to you, Rhea.’
Tears rolled down Rhea’s cheeks. ‘I can’t have an abortion. I don’t believe in it.’
‘Right … okay.’
‘I want to give it away. Get rid of it that way.’
It.
So impersonal. So unattached.
I called my baby ‘it’.
There had to be personal reasons for Rhea’s decision, but Callie truly felt that now was not the time to push for them. If Rhea wanted to give her baby away after it was born, that gave Callie six more months of learning about Rhea and working with her to find out what was going on and how best she could help her.
It was a big decision to give away your baby.
It was what I was going to do. Give the baby to Lucas and Maggie. Only it’s not ‘the’ baby now. It’s ‘my’ baby, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
Callie wasn’t sure. She and Lucas still hadn’t discussed properly what they were going to do to sort this. But they needed to. They were on the clock now and time was ticking. Should she still give the baby to Lucas? Was it even her decision to make?
Callie decided that once the booking clinic was over she was going to call the fertility clinic and ask to speak to one of the counsellors there. She, Lucas and Maggie had each undertaken individual counselling before agreeing to the surrogacy, but the situation had changed now. Everything was different.
I was going to give my baby away. Happily. I was going to do it for Lucas and Maggie.
Who was Rhea doing it for? What was Rhea doing it for?
‘Okay. We can talk about that. It’s a big decision.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Have you talked to your family about it?’
‘It’s not their decision. It’s mine. My body—my choice.’
‘Of course it is. I’m not denying that.’
‘Just put it in my notes that I’m giving it away. The Social can have it. I don’t want to see it, or hold it. Just get them to take it away and give it to someone who doesn’t know where it’s come from.’
‘Doesn’t know where it’s come from’? Why would she say that? Did Maria think that way about me? She never wanted me. Never wanted anything to do with me. Was my own mother like this young girl once?
‘I’ll put it in your notes. You do know that I’ll be here for you throughout this, Rhea? Any time. You’ll be able to call me, night or day. I’ll give you my contact details.’ She passed over a small card that had the hospital numbers and Callie’s own personal mobile number on it too.
Rhea stuffed it into her bag. ‘I don’t want anyone judging me.’
‘No one will do that.’
‘You don’t know what I’ve been through.’
‘No. But I’m hoping that at some point you’ll trust me enough to tell me.’
She meant it. Sincerely she meant it. And she hoped Rhea could sense that. It was at times like these that Callie’s job meant the world to her. It was at times like these when she felt she could really help someone—and this young girl clearly needed help for something.
If only she’d let me in. If only she’d let me help her so that another baby doesn’t grow up feeling like I did as a child. Unwanted and unloved.
‘Don’t you need to take my blood pressure or something?’
Rhea broke the silence and Callie nodded, glad that Rhea was offering her something.
‘Of course. I need to take blood, too.’
‘I brought this.’ Rhea reached into her bag and took out a small jar with a urine sample in it. ‘I washed it out before I used it.’
‘That’s great—thanks.’ She would need another sample if this one was more than two hours old. It was hospital policy. However, she wasn’t going to say that. Rhea had offered her a little something. That would have to do for now.
Rhea’s blood pressure was fine, as was her urine sample. Nothing out of the ordinary and all well within parameters. Physically, she seemed fine. It was just emotionally that something was off.
‘You know, I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better throughout this, Rhea.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t go thinking you’ll get me to change my mind.’
‘That’s not my place.’
‘No, it isn’t. No one has the right to judge me for giving this thing away.’
‘No, they haven’t.’ I was going to give a baby away myself. ‘But please don’t call the baby a “thing”. Call it what it is.’
Rhea stood up to go and slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘It’s a thing. It will always be a thing. It’ll never be anything else.’ And she stormed from the clinic.
Callie watched her go, bewildered and amazed. In some ways Rhea seemed so strong, but in others she was just a tiny young girl, terrified and afraid.
And what am I afraid of?
Callie’s hand went to her own stomach, as yet still unchanged in size. She didn’t even know she was doing it until her phone beeped a text message alert and she was brought back into the present. As she rummaged in her bag for her phone thoughts echoed through her mind.
Don’t go getting attached.
You have no idea if you’re keeping it either.
CHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT DAY Callie was scheduled to work on a twin delivery. She could see that Lucas was on duty that day too, along with the senior consultant Dev Patel, though she hadn’t seen him yet. They had four women in labour, most in early stages, and Callie had been assigned to a woman in her late forties, having her first babies. Callie hadn’t been expecting to work with Lucas, but he was already in the room.
‘There’s been some decelerations,’ he said, after saying hello and seeing her look of surprise.
Olivia Hogarth was on her knees, leaning over the back of the bed, panicking and almost out of control, showing real signs of not dealing with her labour at all. Every time a contraction came along a terrified look came into Olivia’s eyes and she began to huff and puff on the Entonox as if for dear life. Her husband, James, stood helpless beside her. He was at a complete loss as to what to do, but kept rubbing her back for dear life as she held on to the support of the bed.
‘Hi, Olivia, I’m Callie, and I’m going to be your midwife today.’ Callie leant round the back of the bed so Olivia could see her face and not just hear a random voice.
‘Hurgh!’ Olivia’s teeth gripped the mouthpiece and her frightened gaze practically begged Callie to do something. ‘Help me!’
‘Okay … slow, deep breaths … that’s it. Slow your breathing.’ Callie showed Olivia how to breathe in slowly through her nose for five seconds and then out through her mouth for five more seconds.
‘I’m all tingly!’ Olivia protested when the contraction was over. ‘Pins and needles.’
‘It’s because you’re not exhaling properly. Come on—practise with me whilst there’s no contraction.’
As Olivia practised Callie took a moment to glance at Olivia’s trace. There were some decelerations in the babies’ heartbeats. Not by much, but they were definitely there. Each time Olivia’s babies got squeezed by a contraction the heart-rate dipped, which meant they weren’t liking labour very much.
Callie wasn’t happy with the trace and glanced up at Lucas as he came to stand by her and judge it for himself.
Sometimes decelerations could be caused by there being a short cord, or a knot in the cord, or by the cord being tightly wrapped around the baby’s body. It didn’t mean that there was something wrong with the baby physically. But Callie knew it was never worth taking any chances. It was always best to call for help if you were working alone. If you weren’t sure you got someone else. Fortunately she already had Lucas there.
He stood beside her, dressed all in black, in tailored shirt and trousers, and she could smell his aftershave. Since she’d got pregnant smells and aromas had seemed particularly pronounced, and his was delicious today.
Callie glanced at him sideways as he concentrated on the trace. Her heart skipped a beat—palpitations? She’d never had those before—it had to be the pregnancy. She supposed she couldn’t help it, she thought wryly. He was a very attractive man after all. Hadn’t she watched a multitude of women fawn over him?
He was tall, broad and handsome. It was hard to think that the little boy she’d once known—the one with the spindly legs and constantly scuffed knees—had turned into this strong, mature, devastatingly handsome man. It never mattered what was going on in her own life—her mother letting her down yet again, her mother lying to her, someone treating her badly—she always brightened when she saw Lucas. He was her pillar. Her rock. Her safe place in stormy seas. He’d always been there for her and she hoped he always would be. Especially now. Now they were having a baby together—even if it wasn’t in the traditional way.
He looked really good today. Fresher and brighter-looking than she’d seen him look these last few weeks. Maggie leaving the way she had, and admitting to an affair, had shaken them both. But even though Lucas had been shocked by the end of his marriage, he’d thankfully not been devastated. He’d coped with the change in his life amazingly well, and she couldn’t help but admire him for his courage and resilience—as everyone did.
She could only assume that seeing the scan yesterday had perked him up. Either that or he’d managed a great night’s sleep! His eyes were bright and blue, like cornflowers in a summer meadow, and there was colour to his cheeks. He’d even shaved! These last few weeks he’d been beginning to look like a mountain man.
She liked the fact that he looked bigger and stronger. It made her feel safe and protected, and she knew he’d move heaven and earth to do anything to help her at the moment.
Callie couldn’t help but wonder what this pregnancy was doing to her? Her emotions and responses seemed hyper-aware, with all these hormones floating about, and she knew she needed to be careful that she didn’t let them carry her away. He cared for her because they were good friends. Nothing more.
He’s just my friend. Yes, he’s the baby’s father, but it’s not like we slept together, is it? It was all done in a petri dish in a clinic—nothing romantic.
But just thinking about sleeping with Lucas made her cheeks flush with heat.
She knew she needed to focus on her patient and deliberately stepped away from him. Thoughts about sleeping with Lucas were dangerous and she’d never allow them to surface.
Olivia finished puffing on her gas and air and looked panicked, her eyes open wide. ‘What’s wrong? Is it the babies?’
Lucas pulled out the long white roll of paper and checked through the tracing with Callie. He gave a tiny nod. ‘Olivia, Baby A seems to be a bit upset after each contraction and Baby B doesn’t look too happy either. It may just be because of the reduced room in your uterus and the contractions, but I’d like to be on the safe side.’ He turned to Callie. ‘When was her last examination?’
She checked the notes. ‘Four and a half hours ago. Would you like me to do another?’ They tried to examine women vaginally every four hours during labour. This usually gave the cervix plenty of time to show the changes every midwife and mother wanted to feel.
Lucas turned the full beam of his attention on the mother. ‘Sure. Olivia, we’d like to examine you, if possible, see how you’re getting along. Is that all right?’
‘Of course.’
Lucas looked at Callie and nodded.
‘I’ll be as gentle as I can …’
Callie washed her hands and then put on gloves, settling herself on the side of Olivia’s bed as she did so. She felt as much as she could, her fingers sweeping the edge of the cervix, her eyes on Lucas.
He kept checking with Olivia to make sure she was all right and apologising for any discomfort she might be feeling, but Olivia was quite stoical. The most calm she’d been since Callie had met her. Perhaps she could cope better with men around, supporting her, rather than another woman?
As Callie removed her gloves she smiled. ‘You’re making good progress. Eight centimetres.’
‘Eight!’ Olivia began to suck in gas and air again as another contraction hit, so she didn’t notice Callie take Lucas to one side of the room.
‘I’m concerned there’s some extra blood in the birth canal,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to panic her, but I think we need to put a continuous CTG on her and the babies and keep it monitored.’ CTG was cardiotocography—a technical way of recording the foetal heartbeats as well as any uterine contractions.
‘Yes, we need to be alert for any signs of possible placental abruption.’ He kept his voice low.
Placental abruption was a life-threatening condition in which the placenta detached itself from the uterine wall before birth, causing heavy bleeding and potentially fatal consequences for both mother and baby if not caught in time.
‘Possibly.’
‘Okay. I want to move her to Theatre, just in case.’
‘I’ll ring Theatre to let them know we’re coming.’
And just as Callie said this blood soaked into the sheets around Olivia’s legs.
Her husband, James, leapt to his feet. ‘My God! What’s going on?’
Callie and Lucas leapt into action. There wasn’t much time. They had to act fast. They quickly unplugged Olivia from the monitors, grabbed the ends of the bed and began to wheel her from the room.
Lucas kept his voice calm, yet firm, as he gave an explanation to James and Olivia. ‘Your wife’s bleed may mean the placenta has detached early from the wall of her womb. We need to do an emergency Caesarean to get the babies out safely.’ Lucas’s controlled, assertive voice was an oasis of calm in a situation that could so easily be filled with panic or fear.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ The colour had gone from James’s face.
Olivia looked pale and clammy and her head was beginning to loll back against the pillows.
‘Just follow us. It’s going to be a general anaesthetic, so you won’t be allowed into Theatre, I’m afraid.’
They began to push the bed from the room and head up the corridors towards the operating rooms. Lucas called out to passing staff to help and they responded to his firm authority and helped them get Olivia to Theatre.
‘And the babies?’
As they reached the theatre doors there was a large sign stating ‘Staff Only Beyond This Point’ and James slowed to a stop, looking lost and hopeless.
Lucas turned back briefly and laid a reassuring hand on James’s arm. ‘We’ll do our best for all of them.’ And then he and Callie pushed Olivia into Theatre, leaving James behind, bewildered and in shock.
They didn’t like to do it, but James was not their first priority at this point. Time was critical now, and they couldn’t waste it by stopping to talk it through with Olivia’s husband. They could debrief him afterwards.
It was a mad rush of preparation. They’d not had time to call Theatre, so the first the theatre staff knew of an emergency coming was when they wheeled Olivia in. But they were such a well-oiled machine that they all knew what to do.
Within minutes, they had Olivia under general anaesthetic, drapes up, and Lucas was scrubbed and ready to go. The theatre staff were used to emergency sections, and they all liked working with Lucas, who was calm and fair and friendly—unlike some of the other doctors who operated. Lucas could just give a look and everyone would know what he needed. His authority was not questioned, and everyone in his team looked to him for guidance.
‘I’m going to perform a lower segment section.’ He pointed the scalpel to Olivia’s skin and in one quick yet sure movement began the emergency operation.
Callie stood by the side of the bed, her heart pounding, her legs like jelly. She really disliked occasions such as this. Emergencies. If she could have her way then all babies would be born normally, without danger, without the need for Theatre. Babies were meant to arrive in calm environments, with music softly playing in the background, and then to be placed in their mother’s arms afterwards for that all-important cuddle and skin-to-skin contact.
General anaesthetics and emergencies took away all of that. Babies were separate from their mothers until the mother was awake enough to hold the baby without dropping it, and sometimes that initial important breastfeed was missed because the mother was unable to do it, or the baby itself was too drowsy from the cross-over of the drugs the mother had had.
Her lips felt dry beneath the paper mask. She glanced at Lucas, admiring the concentration in his gaze, his composure. Despite the emergency, he knew exactly what needed to be done and how. But as she stood there Callie realised she was beginning to feel a little bit woozy and hot.
The rush from Olivia’s room and pushing the bed through the corridors wouldn’t normally have taken its toll, but now that she was pregnant she felt a little more fragile than normal. She still felt out of breath from the sprint and her brow was becoming sweaty, as was her top lip. Her stomach began to churn like a washing machine, as if she was about to be sick.
It wasn’t the sight of the blood. That sort of thing never bothered her. Nor was it the controlled tension in the room.
No. This was something else. She didn’t feel right at all. She looked at Lucas over her mask in a panic, hoping he’d look up. See her. Notice that something was wrong.
She could feel something … a weird sensation beginning to overcome her. If she could try to focus on his calm, reassuring face she felt it might help, but her vision was going a bit blurry and the noises in the room—the beeping of machines—began to sound distant and echoing.
As she felt herself sway slightly she put one hand on the bed to steady herself. Lucas looked up from his work and frowned.
‘Callie? You okay?’
But his words sounded as if they were coming from far away. She blinked to clear her eyesight, felt her heart pound like a hammer and then heard a weird whooshing noise in her ears. A black curtain descended and she went crashing to the floor, taking a tray of instruments down with her.
‘Callie!’
Lucas was unable to catch her. She’d been standing on the other side of the operating table and there was a patient between them. Instead he had to stand there, horrified, his scalpel poised, as she collapsed onto the floor and lay there, despite the best efforts of the scrub nurse to try and catch her.
Her arms were outspread, her eyes closed.
I need to concentrate on my patient first. Her life is in my hands. I’ll have to let the others take care of Callie.
The situation killed him, but what could he do? Just focus on delivering Olivia safely and then he could check on Callie.
How did I not see she looked pale? he berated himself inwardly.
The anaesthetist couldn’t move either, but two other theatre assistants got Callie up onto a trolley and wheeled her from the theatre. He watched her go, his heart in his mouth, his mind whooshing with a million thoughts. But he pulled it back.
I need to be professional. Callie’s in good hands. I know that. I can’t do anything here but look after my patient.
The staff were great. They knew the situation—knew Callie was Lucas’s surrogate, and knew how much it must be hurting him not to be with her—so they all did their best to help him work quickly, so he could be with her.
Lucas had to think fast and concentrate. All he wanted to do was leave Theatre and go and check on Callie, but he knew he couldn’t! His professional integrity told him to stay with his patient. Her life and that of her babies were on the line.
Once into the uterus, he was able to deliver both babies quickly. They came out crying, which was great. A glance at the monitors assured him that Olivia was doing fine, despite the emergency.
A few moments later the theatre assistants returned.
‘How’s Callie?’ he asked, busy removing the placentas.
‘Coming round. We left her in the staffroom with one of the midwives looking after her,’ the assistant called, her back to him as she assessed the babies at the Resuscitaires.
‘How are the babies?’
‘Pinking up—we’ll get there,’ confirmed the paediatrician, and then there was a lusty cry and Lucas was able to let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He glanced at the anaesthetist at the head of his patient.
‘Sats ninety-seven per cent, BP dropped. But she’s stable … she’s good.’
That was good to know. He’d expected Olivia’s blood pressure to drop with the bleed, but if she was stable then it looked as if both mother and twins were going to get through this.
Once both the placentas were out Lucas began to stitch, sewing together all the layers of muscle and fascia that made up the abdomen, finally closing Olivia’s lower belly about forty-five minutes after he’d first had to open her.
It had been nearly thirty minutes since Callie’s collapse and he was desperate to see her. His stomach was in knots, but he sewed quickly and efficiently. He kept clenching and unclenching his jaw as he thought of all the things that were worrying him.
Why did she faint? Was it a faint? Or something else? Perhaps she’d not eaten properly that morning? There had to be a reason, and he intended to do a full medical checkup on her when he got out of Theatre.
Why was everything going wrong? Having a child was meant to be one of the happiest times of his life! Yet it was all such a mess. He still didn’t know what was going to happen after the birth, and now Callie had collapsed. He hated not being able to be there for her and he wanted to be. Every step of the way.
Finally Olivia was ready to go through to Recovery. The assistant and porters wheeled her away and he thanked the staff, seeing their appreciative smiles and nods, then scrubbed clean, quickly changed his scrubs and hurried off to find Callie.
He found her looking pale and ashen in the staffroom, feet up on the chairs and her hands shaking as she nursed a hot sweet tea.
He rushed straight over to her, kneeling by her side and feeling her forehead. ‘Are you all right?’
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