Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal
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Susan glared at him and said, ‘I’m not lying down to have this.’
‘Sounds good.’ Simon crossed the room quietly and shook the harried man’s hand. ‘Simon Campbell. Obstetrician.’
‘Pete Wells, and my wife, Susan.’
Simon turned to Susan and touched her shoulder briefly while he glanced at her tight belly and then her face. ‘Hi, Susan. First baby?’ The woman nodded.
‘And what date is your baby due?’
‘Four weeks.’
‘And breech, you think?’
‘Was yesterday at ultrasound. We were on our way to Brisbane.’
‘Unless you’ve noticed lots of movements since then, your baby probably still is breech.’ He glanced at Tara. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘The plan was a Caesarean in Brisbane, but Susan wants to stand up for a vaginal birth. So I thought that seeing you’re here you could check and see where she’s up to, and baby will tell us what to do. Unfortunately, Susan has to lie down for a part of that.’
Simon grinned at her. ‘Interesting take. And I concur with it all.’ He looked at Susan. ‘You fine with those plans?’
‘Perfect. As long as you are quick. I never wanted the Caesarean.’
‘Ah,’ said Simon, as Tara helped Susan undress and reluctantly lie down for the examination. ‘A rebel.’ Simon quickly but thoroughly palpated Susan’s belly, stepped aside so Tara could also confirm the position of the baby, and then washed his hands and pulled on the sterile gloves. ‘Baby taking after the mum? I’ll be as quick as I can so you can stand up again.’
One minute later it was confirmed. ‘Yep, breech. In perfect position. And ready to come.’ He nodded at Tara. ‘Best get another person here for baby and we can send them away if we don’t need them.’
Tara crossed to the phone and called the switchboard then dragged a sheet-covered mat to the side of the bed in case Susan wanted to kneel down at some stage, and prepared her equipment. She’d never opened up sterile packs or drawn up needles so fast and excitement bubbled inside her. She was going to see her first breech birth.
Then Simon made it even more exciting. He spoke to the couple. ‘I guess I should tell you that my specialty is promoting vaginal breech births at the Central Women’s Hospital in Sydney, and if you don’t mind I’d like to talk Tara through this birth so she can practise her own breech deliveries.’
He looked at Susan and then Pete. ‘Is that all right with you?’ Susan ignored Simon but nodded at Tara while she pushed, and Pete reluctantly agreed. Tara slid the little ultrasound Doppler over Susan’s belly and they all heard the cloppety-clop of the baby’s heartbeat. Susan’s shoulders sagged with relief and she bore down with a long outward breath now she knew her baby was fine.
Simon went on. ‘If baby decides to do anything tricky, I’ll take over.’
Pete still didn’t look happy but Tara was beginning to think poor Pete didn’t handle stress well. ‘We’ll have to take your word for it,’ he said.
‘I guess that’s all you can do.’ Simon smiled sympathetically as he pulled a chair across and sat down beside Tara, who was perched on a little wheeled stool, leaning towards Susan. ‘Though I could give you my card and my phone to ring the Sydney ward but you might miss the birth.’
Because it was coming. A little pale crescent of buttock appeared as Susan breathed out and Tara felt the increase in her own heartbeat. OMG. She was going to cradle her first breech in a totally natural, peaceful environment and she didn’t even have to feel terrified because Simon was right there beside her and she felt anything but.
‘So Tara isn’t going to touch the baby at all until the last moment. Your baby is nice and relaxed at the moment and we don’t want to scare it by putting a cold hand on him or her unexpectedly. The heart rate is great and Tara will listen after every contraction to Susan’s tummy.’ Simon spoke in a very quiet conversational tone and Tara listened and obeyed every word without feeling like he was saying she didn’t know what to do. It was obviously a skill he’d mastered.
Simon went on. ‘Breech babies have the same mechanisms as head-first babies and once the hips are through it pretty well means everything is going to fit because the hips are roughly the same size as the shoulders.’
Tara hadn’t realised that. Now they could see the little swollen scrotum and penis and Pete gasped and grinned when he realised what it was. Tara couldn’t believe how fast everything was happening.
‘You’re doing beautifully, Susan,’ she whispered. ‘You’re amazing. Not long now.’
‘Okay.’ Susan sounded strained but not frightened and Tara could feel the swell of emotion she felt at every birth at the miracles women could perform. It was all happening like clockwork. The pointy bottom seemed to be curving out sideways before it stopped and swivelled and Tara looked at Simon to ask if she should flick the leg out but he just smiled and shook his head.
The buttocks came down a little further and the foot lifted and sprang free. The other soon followed until baby was standing on tiptoe on the mat as his mother followed her instincts and crouched. Now the whole belly of the baby and the stretched umbilical cord could be seen.
‘This is where we make sure the baby doesn’t decided to spin the wrong way, but most of the time they drive better than we do.’ Sure enough, the baby’s body straightened, the stretched little chest lengthened, until there was just the top part of the baby inside.
‘I can’t stand it,’ muttered Pete, as he twisted his fingers together, and Tara cast him a sympathetic look.
‘I want to kneel,’ Susan panted, and Tara cast a look at Simon.
‘Just hang on for one sec, Susan. I’ll move out of the way. You’re almost there.’ Tara pushed the chair away and knelt beside Susan as she turned sideways and with her reduced height the baby settled into a strange sitting position but with the movement the head slowly appeared, the little face flopped forward as the baby was born and Tara reached out and caught him before he fell forward onto his tummy.
‘Well done,’ Simon murmured with a definite thread of exultation in his voice. Tara felt a rush of emotion stinging her eyes as she dried the little body until the newborn screwed up his face and roared his displeasure.
She could see Simon’s satisfaction in her management and she’d never felt so proud in her life. There was time for one brief glance of shared excitement and then it was back to the job.
‘I’m just going to pop baby through your legs and you can see what you’ve had, Susan.’ There was a flurry of limbs and cord and then Susan had her baby in her arms as she knelt upright. The face she turned to the three of them was exultant with fierce pride and joy. ‘A boy. My vaginal breech birth boy. I knew I could do that.’
‘Magnificently.’ Simon shook his head with a twinkle in his eye that said he’d never grow tired of these moments, and Tara felt like she wouldn’t want to sleep for a week she was on such a high.
Pete was in shock, and a little on the pale side as he flopped back into a chair Simon pushed up to him, while Susan was helped back up onto the bed by Tara. The new mum lay back with a satisfied smile and baby was just plain curious about the world and maybe even a little hungry.
They thanked the other doctor who had quietly arrived as unneeded back-up and he left. A few minutes later, after checking that all was well with Susan and the baby, Simon left too.
Tara leant against the doorpost, keeping watch that all was well now that she’d backed out of the circle of mother, father and child, and just soaked in the magic.
She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the experience that Simon had given her. Not just with his innate love of teaching and promoting breech birth to his less-experienced colleagues, but the ambience and peaceful joy of the occasion, because everyone, including her, had felt safe, and imbued with the faith that they’d had everything needed for the occasion. Her glorious moment! Because Simon had been there.
She’d never experienced anything like it. How could one man make that difference? It was a gift she hugged to herself.
Two hours later Susan was tucked up into bed for a well-earned rest but her eyes were wide and alert, baby Blake was tucked up in his little cot sound asleep beside his mother, and Pete snored gently in the big chair beside the window.
Susan and Tara looked at each other and smiled.
‘I wish I could sleep,’ Susan said dryly.
‘It’s the adrenalin from the birth,’ Tara said quietly. ‘Your instinct is to stay alert so you can snatch up your baby and run. You’ll slowly calm down and drift off to sleep soon.’
‘Thanks, Tara,’ Susan said sincerely. ‘From the first minute I saw you I knew everything was going to be fine.’
Tara had too. But Simon had ensured it really had gone well. He’d been amazing and she’d tell him so. ‘I’m so glad. And thank you.’ They grinned at each other as Tara gently shut the door to keep out the noises that might wake them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SIMON DROPPED IN before the afternoon midwife arrived to see how Susan was faring.
‘She’s great. Talking about going home tomorrow. You going in to see her? Baby is awake and Pete’s gone home.’
Tara was at the desk, completing Susan’s patient notes. She went to stand and he put his hand up. ‘Stay there. I’m just saying hello and I’ll pop out to see you when I’ve finished.’
Tara nodded and carried on, wanting to have it all completed before the end of her shift. There was a mountain of paperwork when a baby was born, let alone when the woman arrived not expecting to have her baby with them, and she was transferring all the information they’d had faxed after the event from Brisbane.
But she still had to thank Simon and she didn’t want him to leave without having the chance.
When Simon reappeared he had Blake with him. ‘Susan’s gone to the loo and Blake was complaining.’ He carried the baby like a little football tucked onto his hip and his large hand cradling the baby’s head with relaxed confidence. There was something incredibly attractive about a man comfortable with small babies and Tara hugged the picture to herself. Not that she was doing anything with it—just enjoying it.
Simon bounced the little baby bundle gently, feeling his weight. ‘He’s heavy.’
‘Seven pounds on the dot.’
‘Impressive for a breech.’ He smiled at her. ‘So were you.’
Tara could feel the heat in her cheeks. She hadn’t been the amazing one. He’d instilled confidence in all of them, even the nervous Pete, so what was it about this guy that made her blush like a schoolgirl? Seeing that even when she’d been a schoolgirl she’d never blushed? ‘I didn’t do anything except put my hands out at the end, but I really appreciated the chance to be hands on, hands off. Thank you. And Susan was amazing.’
‘It’s okay, Tara. You were good because you didn’t do anything. You did so well.’
‘I can see why it’s hands off now.’ She changed the subject. Had never had been able to deal with compliments. Probably because she hadn’t received that many in her life. She inclined her head towards Blake. ‘You always been this good with babies?’
He grinned and she tried not to let the power of the smile affect her. Losing battle. ‘I was a couple of years older than the eldest sister and Mum had three more pretty fast. So I guess I did get good with babies. I enjoyed helping with the girls and Mum was pretty busy by the time she had Maeve. I wasn’t into dolls but it was always going to be obstetrics or paediatrics.’
He looked at Tara. Tried to see into her past. ‘Were you a girly girl?’
Hadn’t had the chance. ‘What’s a girly girl?’
‘Dress-ups. A favourite doll?’
There had been a couple of shared toys she’d been allowed to play with but not her own. ‘After my parents died I never owned a doll. So I guess not.’
His brows drew together but thankfully he changed the subject. ‘What time do you finish?’
‘Three-thirty.’
‘Fancy another swim?’
Simon studied the strong features of the woman across from him. He became more intrigued the more he saw her. His four sisters had all been spoilt by everyone, including himself, and secure in their knowledge of their own attraction. Even Maeve in her current circumstances dressed and acted like the confident woman she was.
But Tara favoured the unisex look of jeans and T-shirts and now he knew that at work, despite the choices of the rest of the staff, she even favoured shapeless scrubs.
But in her plain black one-piece swimsuit she couldn’t hide the fact she was all woman. A delightfully shapely woman with determination to the little chin and a wariness of being hurt that seemed to lurk at the back of her eyes.
An orphan. And a loner perhaps? ‘Tell me about your childhood.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m interested.’
A wary glance and then she looked away. ‘Nothing to tell.’
‘Are you always this difficult when people want to get to know you?’
A clash of her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘So did you always live in an orphanage or did you have foster-parents?’
‘Both.’
He waited and she gave in with a sigh.
‘I preferred the orphanage because at least I knew where I stood.’
He would have thought an orphanage would be way worse but he knew nothing. Hadn’t ever thought about it. Didn’t actually like to think about it when he looked at Tara. ‘How so?’
‘Being a foster-child is tricky. You know it’s not permanent, so it’s hard not to be defensive. If you let people get to you it hurts too much when you have to leave.’
He knew he should drop it, but he couldn’t. ‘Don’t some foster-parents stay with the same children?’
Her face gave nothing away. ‘I seemed to find the ones who shouldn’t be foster-parents.’
He felt a shaft of sympathy for a little lost Tara. Found himself wanting to shake those careless foster-parents. It must have shown on his face.
‘Don’t even think about feeling sorry for me, Simon.’ There was a fierceness in her eyes that made him blink.
And apologise. ‘Sorry. I think my sisters had it too much the other way with people looking after them. I’ve always been protective. If you ask Maeve, too protective, and I guess I got worse when the truth came out that I really only had half the right.’ It wasn’t something he usually burdened others with twice but maybe unintentionally he’d trodden on Tara’s past hurts and felt he should expose his own.
Of course Tara pounced on the chance to change the subject and he guessed he couldn’t blame her. Served him right.
‘So how old were you when you found out you had another father?’
The way she said it, like he had been lucky, if you looked at it from her point of view when she didn’t even have even one father and he had two. Even privately complained about it. Novel idea when he’d been a cranky little victim despite telling himself to get over it.
He brought himself back to the present. ‘After my dad’s first heart attack, that would be the man I thought was my real dad, I heard my mother question whether I should be told about Angus. Not a great way to find out. Nineteen and I hadn’t been given the choice to know my real dad for the whole of my childhood. And to be still treated like a child.’ He hadn’t taken it well and had half blamed Angus as well for not knowing of his existence.
‘So how’d you find him? Angus?’ Tara had looked past that to the interesting bit. Maybe he should have done that too a long time ago. She made him feel petty and he didn’t like it.
‘It was more than ten years ago, but at the time it all seemed to move too slowly. Took six months. He was on some discreet medical assignment overseas and the government wouldn’t let me contact him. Then he came to see me and brought me here to meet my grandfather. It must have been a family trait because he hadn’t seen his own dad for twenty years.’
‘Louisa’s husband?’
‘Yep. Apparently Angus and Grandfather Ned fought over my dad’s relationship with my mother, and when they ran away together and it didn’t work out, he never came back here.’
She didn’t offer sympathy. Just an observation as she glanced around. ‘It’s a very healing place.’
‘Well, Angus brought me here to get to know him. And this was where he met Mia.’
He wondered if that was why he hadn’t been able to commit to a relationship in the past. To fully trust people because even his own parents had betrayed him. He shook his head. Didn’t know where all that angst had come from, it certainly wasn’t something he’d talked about before, and if he’d stirred this kind of feeling in Tara by asking about her past, he could see why she didn’t want to talk about it. When he thought about her life he felt incredibly selfish and self-indulgent complaining about his own.
She’d said Lyrebird Lake was a healing place. Maybe it was. Did that mean his coming here with Maeve meant it was his turn to move on? He mused, ‘I don’t know if it’s the place or the people, but whenever I visit it seems when I leave here I’m usually less stressed.’
She laughed and he enjoyed the sound. ‘Even if you lose some of your holidays to fill in for your dad and unexpected breech deliveries.’
‘They’re the good bits.’ And he realised it was true. He smiled at her. ‘The really good bits.’
‘Like today.’ She smiled back and the way it changed her face made him think of a previous conversation. Tara’s glorious moment. She certainly looked the part.
He caught her fingers. ‘Today has had some very magical moments.’
He smoothed the towel out of her grip and let it fall and gathered up her other hand. He half expected her to pull away but she seemed bemused more than annoyed. He tugged her closer until their hips met. Liking the feel of a wet Lycra mermaid against his chest, unconsciously he leaned in and her curves fitted his like they were designed for each other. He looked down at her long, thin fingers in his bigger hands, stroked her palm and felt a shiver go through her.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.
He had to smile. ‘Enjoying another magical moment.’
Looked down into her face and then there was no way he could stop himself bending his head and brushing her lips with his. Watched her eyelids flutter closed and the idea that this prickly, independent woman trusted him enough to close her eyes and allow him closer filled him with delight.
Lips like strawberry velvet. A shiver of electricity he couldn’t deny. ‘Mmm. You taste nice.’
Her turn to smile as she opened her eyes and ducked her head to hide her face but he couldn’t have that. Wouldn’t have that as he slid one finger under chin, savoured the confusion in her eyes and face and then leant in for a proper kiss. She was like falling into a dream, soft in all the right places, especially her lips.
As she began to kiss him back there wasn’t much thinking in his mind after that but a whole lot of feeling was going on. Until abruptly she ended it.
Tara felt as if she was floating and then suddenly realised she was kissing the man everyone loved. Who did she think she was? She pulled away and turned her back on him. Picked up the towel she’d dropped. Didn’t know what had happened—one minute they’d been flirting and teasing, probably to get away from the previous conversations, and then he’d confused the heck out of her with the way he’d looked at her—and that kiss!
She could still feel the crush against his solid expanse of damp chest and was surprisingly still dazed by a kiss that had gone from gorgeously warm and yummy to scorching hot in a nanosecond.
And she’d thought he was a little stand-offish! This wasn’t going anywhere, except a one-night stand, maybe if she was lucky a one-month stand. Well, she’d been as bad as him. She sighed and turned back to him with a smile that she’d practised over the years that shielded her from the world.
‘Guess we’d better get back.’
He narrowed his eyes and there was a pause when she thought he was going to get all deep and personal or apologise, but he didn’t. Thank goodness.
She just wanted to finish drying off and walk back to the manse. Maintain the reality that she was playing with a toy that didn’t belong to her and if she kept touching it she’d be in deep trouble.
Simon really wanted to hold her hand, it would have been … nice? But Tara had tucked her fingers up under her elbows in a keep-off gesture that he couldn’t help reading. Maybe he had come on a bit strong but, lordy, when he’d kissed her the second time the heat between them had nearly singed his eyebrows off. The thought made him smile. And grimace because it obviously hadn’t affected her the way it had affected him. Did she realise the power those lips of hers held?
When they arrived back at the manse the kitchen was in chaos. Simon figured out that Louisa had cajoled Maeve into helping her assemble the Christmas tree and mounds of tinsel and baubles lay scattered across the kitchen table and cheesy Christmas tunes were playing in the background.
The manse had a big old lounge room but he knew every year Louisa put the Christmas tree up in the kitchen because that was the place everyone seemed to gravitate to—and this year was no different.
Simon loved the informality of it, unlike his mother’s colour-co-ordinated precision, and he enjoyed the bemused expression, mixed with a little embarrassment left over from their kiss, on Tara’s face as she looked round at him.
‘Excellent timing, Simon,’ Louisa said, as she handed him an armful of tiny star-shaped bulbs on a wire and a huge black plastic bag. She gestured vaguely to the screen door and he inclined his head to Tara and opened the door for her. The long post and rail veranda looked over the street and then the lake.
‘Outside is where it really happens.’ Good to have something to fill the silence between them. Awkward-R-Us. He waved the roll of bulbs at Tara and set about repairing the damage he’d done by kissing her.
‘This is the start of the outside contingent. My job is to help Dad put these up when I’m home.’ He pulled a little stepladder along behind him until he reached the end of the veranda and climbed up. Started to hang the tiny lights as far as he could reach before he climbed down again.
Tara was still looking bewildered and maybe still a little preoccupied from their kiss at the lake. He was sorry she was feeling uncomfortable, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. He wanted to do it again. Instead he carried on the conversation because she sure wasn’t helping. ‘These go along the top wooden rail. You can see them from down the street. Looks very festive.’
‘I imagine it does.’ She closed her eyes and he realised she was doing one of those breathing things he’d seen her do before and when she opened her eyes she was the old Tara again.
She smiled, so she must be okay, and he felt inordinately relieved. ‘I’m not experienced at decorations. Put a few up in the ward last year when I worked Christmas week. Santa Claus was a big hit with the mums and their new babies.’
Now, there was a fantasy. Maybe he could dress up as Mr Claus and she’d sit on his knee. Naughty Simon. ‘Santa has potential for lots of things.’ He could feel the smile in his voice and packed that little make-believe away for later. Then he realised that, of course, she’d missed out on family Christmas for most of her life too. Not a nice thought. ‘I’m guessing he didn’t visit the home?’
She looked at him with disgust. ‘Don’t go there, Simon. I’m fine. They looked after me and I was never hungry. Lots of kids can’t say that.’
Okay, he knew that, but there was more to being cared for than food in your belly, he thought as he hung each loop of Christmas lights over the tiny hooks under the eaves, and winced again at how easy his own childhood had been.
He glanced towards the kitchen, where his sister stood watching Louisa tweak the tree.
Maeve had been loved and cared for and told she was wonderful since the day she was born. A lot of the time by Simon because he’d thought the sun shone out of his youngest sibling. Though that wasn’t doing him much good at the moment.