Marion Lennox: City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle

‘Maggie?’

He was feeling his way in, wondering if he had the right apartment. There were four doors in this corridor and he’d got here by feel.

It’d be just his luck to have the wrong apartment.

‘I’m a doctor,’ he called, just in case some stranger was sitting bolt upright in bed, preparing to have a heart attack because of a prowler in their apartment. ‘I’m looking for Maggie. I’m looking for a pregnant woman in trouble.’

He sounded stupid, he thought, edging into the sitting room as he called.

The drapes were wide open and he could see the moonlit sea beyond. Then, as he drew further into the room, he saw there was another light source outside. Low light, hidden until now by the bulk of the settee.

He moved cautiously forward, hit his knee on a coffee table and swore.

‘Maggie?’ He tugged open the big glass door to see where the light from outside was coming from. ‘Maggie?’

‘Did you bring gas?’ a voice demanded from floor level, and the words were a series of breathless, pain-filled, gasps. ‘If you didn’t, kill me now. Oh, Max…’

She’d set up a birth centre. She was on the tiled balcony floor but on bed of sorts, a mound of soft bedding right at the edge of the terrace, where the open protective rails gave her a sweeping vista of the sea beyond.

There were candles everywhere. She was surrounded by a sea of light, a complete circle apart from the line of sight between her and the sea. The moon was hanging low, casting a silvery trail of moonbeams over the ocean. They looked almost a ribbon, reaching out to touch the woman on the cushions at his feet.

Apart from the hush-hush of the waves on the sand below there was complete silence. All this Max absorbed in a fraction of a second. And then…

‘Mmmmmmmmmpf…’

It was a long, low moan, so low that unless he was right next to her he’d never have heard it. For Max, who’d delivered a thousand babies or so, it was the quietest birthing moan he’d ever heard.

Forget the moonbeams. He was frantically shifting candles so he could get to her. He wanted so much to take her in his arms, but there was still a part of him that was sensible. ‘Obstetrician Goes Up In Flames’ wasn’t a headline he wanted to hit the newsstands any time soon.

Obstetrician? Maybe he was.

Indeed he was. For even as he took in what was happening, even as emotion hit him like a kick in the guts, his professional side was kicking in as well. Making him sensible; making him take the time to make the scene safe before he could kneel beside her and tug her into his arms and hold her close.

It took seconds and then he had her.

‘Mmmmmmmmmmmpf…’

Another contraction already…

He held her tight until it passed, and then he kept on holding her. Yes, he needed to be her doctor, but first there was an urgent need to be…Maggie’s man.

‘Max,’ she whispered, and he simply held her until the next contraction hit and beyond. Maggie’s man? Some truths were beyond question. Then…

‘No gas?’ she demanded.

‘I didn’t bring my bag,’ he said ruefully. ‘I ran.’

‘You ran.’

‘Dumb,’ he said. ‘Like you having your baby in the middle of a power strike. You didn’t think to call for help?’

‘I’ve called for help.’

‘To me?’

‘I called the ambulance. You’re not an obstetrician,’ she said, with a breathless attempt at dignity.

‘I’m an obstetrician. Can you bear me to examine you?’

‘Mmmmmmmmmmpf…’

‘That was a yes?’

He didn’t want to be Maggie’s doctor, he thought. He wanted to keep right on holding her. He also wanted a full birthing suite. A full obstetric team.

‘I did call…the ambulance…’ she repeated. ‘Hours ago. I hoped the ambulance could get through. I didn’t think you could.’

‘I’d have been here earlier if you’d phoned me.’

‘You want me to apologise for not phoning?’ she gasped. ‘You didn’t bring gas. I’m holding it against you for ever. Mmmmmmmmmpf…’

‘I’m holding you against me for ever,’ he said shakily, but he couldn’t. He had to set her down again on the cushions and be her doctor.

‘I’m…I think I’m going to push,’ she managed.

‘Try not to till I’ve seen.’

‘Then hurry up and see,’ she said, and moaned again.

‘You want to yell?’ he asked.

‘I’ll wake the neighbours.’

‘Someone might have gas,’ he said. ‘Did you think of that? If you yelled someone might have come and helped you.’

‘I only want you. Mmmmmmmmpf…’

The head…

‘Maggie, she’s crowning.’

‘Don’t care. Mmmmmmpf…’

‘You do care,’ he said, hauling the candles closer to where he needed to see. Then as another contraction rippled through and he realised how close she was to delivering, he suddenly changed direction, shifting candles, cushions, shoving Maggie’s whole makeshift bed and Maggie with it along the balcony so she was hard against the wall. So he could haul her into sitting position and leave her propped up, gasping, fighting, bearing down, so she could see…

So she could see her daughter enter the world.

And then… There was moment’s stillness. A moment’s peace where the world held its breath. Where even the moonlit sea seemed to hush. Until…

She screamed, a scream to wake every neighbour from Coogee to Bondi, a truly excellent birthing scream that came with that last triumphant push.

‘Slow… Slow…’ he said urgently, and she did, backed off, stopped pushing, while his fingers found…cord.

Not a problem-he had it free in seconds.

Oh, thank God he was here.

‘Go,’ he said, and she sighed and groaned and held her knees and pushed with one mighty heave-and managed to see…

As her baby daughter slipped into Max’s hands and into the world.

No one came. The scream that could have woken the dead evoked no response at all.

There was no sound at all as Max cleared the baby’s airway, checked her breathing, felt this tiny, perfect being come to life in his hands. Maggie’s daughter didn’t cry. She simply stared upward, dazed, incredulous, vernix-coated, slippery as hell.

And inside him, something that had been missing for a long, long time settled back into his heart and stayed.

What could ever be more perfect than this? This moment of birth.

And this birth was the best. Delivering Maggie’s baby… Quite simply he felt like the luckiest man alive, and as he slipped the tiny girl onto Maggie’s breast, watched the baby slide against her mother’s skin, saw Maggie’s hands cradle her daughter, watched her eyes fill with tears, saw the two of them mould into one moment of absolute perfection, he knew his world could never be the same again.

He knew he could never want it to be the same.

He didn’t speak. Instead he simply watched, and smiled and smiled and smiled.

Finally Maggie looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, and whispered simply, ‘Thank you, Max.’

‘It was my privilege,’ he said softly. ‘I believe that I love you.’

The world held its breath once more.

She stared at him for a long moment. Awed. Then slowly the corners of her mouth curved into a smile

‘It took only that,’ she whispered, and the world started again. Back on the beach the waves began again, life began again. ‘Oh, Max, my love. My heart.’ She was smiling and smiling, her eyes misty with love and with happiness. ‘For you to love me… How can you mean it?’

‘I never say things I don’t mean. Maggie, how can I not love you?’

She hesitated, and he saw her smile falter. ‘But…’

But? He didn’t want to hear a but-and he wouldn’t do anything to mess with that smile.